Last Flight Amelia Earhart Novels & Stories

I accepted their condolences with a numb smile, unable to say any more words other than "thank you." As the last of the mourners turned to leave, the silence of the cemetery was broken only by the sound of their footsteps fading away. Soon, only two people remained: Lilian and Leo. I felt a hand on my shoulder and turned to see Lilian standing beside me. Her eyes were red and puffy, but she held herself with a quiet strength. Lilian bent over, holding a bunch of flowers in her hand. Her hand trembled as she laid the flowers on Raya's grave. Her eyes were filled with tears, but she refused to let them fall. She took a deep breath, trying to find the right words to say.

**03:00** The countdown glowed like a digital death sentence. Three remaining minutes. Three innocent lives hung in the balance. One impossible, devastating truth. Lorrie stood entirely frozen in the center of the fractured room, the air thick with smoke and pulverized glass. Her mind violently rejected the words that had just left Amelia’s mouth. *"You're the last living heir of the Van Arlen family."*

She cried again when Axel swung the tire iron rebreaking the bone. “Oops, it slipped..” Axel gave innocent eyes to me causing me to raise an eyebrow at the crazed lunatic. “It’s a flight plan,” Chester came up to us, the clipboard having pages turned over. “A small crop plain to fly from Peru to Gary… Teddy, I’m sorry man… but it was to take off twenty minutes ago.. we missed her.” Chester gave me a sympathetic look.

Apparently, one of her father’s, billionaire publisher and investor, Lester Bartholomew, jets had malfunctioned and crashed sixty-two miles outside Fort Peck Indian Reservation around the Montana mountains in Willow Springs County. The twenty-seven-year-old heiress was going to Seattle, Washington. One of Ava’s older sisters, Diana Bartholomew lives in Seattle. It is assumed Ava was going there to visit her. The pilot’s and the flight attendant’s bodies were found among the scorching, smoking wreckage. Ava’s was not. So, it is assumed that she’s alive out there somewhere.

"Not those eyes." We continued working through the night, chasing digital phantoms. Every lead hitting a dead end. Every path circling back to the same conclusion—Amelia Alvarez didn't exist before three years ago. At dawn, I stood by the window, watching the city slowly wake. The sky bleeding from black to deep blue to the faintest hint of orange. I hadn't seen a sunrise sober in years. "You should get some sleep," Raul said behind me. "Not until we figure this out." I turned back to him. "The plane crash—we are absolutely certain Estella was on board aren’t we? I mean Marco confessed. The FBI confirmed everything.”

With that, I had no option but to use a public plane while trying to connect to Amelia. I rented a car from a local shop and drove downhill to the nearest airport to book a flight, mind-linking Amelia again to see if she had discovered where Lorenzo was taking her. 'Amelia', I tried to connect, but all I heard was silence. What if she had finally left America and the mind-link had stopped working? I sped up, clenching my jaws. I tried again. 'Amelia', and this time, I heard her tearful and scared voice. 'Are you alright'? I quickly asked.

Then, it hit her—yesterday, I had mentioned about going abroad to visit Mom and Dad. She hadn't paid it any mind and just brushed it off like one of my fleeting moods. Another alert lit up her screen. It was a breaking news bulletin. Just 30 minutes ago, a flight bound for Mérida crashed. There were zero survivors. Today was the last time she'd ever see me. Quinn collapsed and slid to the floor as a raw, guttural sound ripped from her chest. … Twelve hours later, I landed safely on foreign soil. Dad stood waiting as his eyes welled up with tears while Mom burst into tears and pulled me into a hug.

Hawaii (the assistant) rushed in, her face white as chalk, phone trembling in her hands. "Kai… Alan…" she whispered. They both snapped their eyes to her. "There's been a crash." Time stopped. "A—A crash?" Alan's voice dropped to a whisper. Hawaii nodded, shaking. "The morning flight leaving Honolulu—the one Julia was supposed to board. It went down after takeoff. The news just broke." Alan staggered back like he'd been punched. Kai's eyes widened, then narrowed with instant denial. "No. She changed flights. She didn't get on that one."

She gave Mia a warm hug and told her, “Call me if you need anything.” Mia hugged her too. She then lent them a convertible to drive to the airport. “Goodbye,” She escorted them to the gate, waving her hand. Amelia waved her hand back. They then drove off. It was a sunny afternoon. The sky was blue. The wind was soft. And there were large clusters of white clouds drifting above their heads. Everything seemed to be at peace and beautiful. They didn’t speak to each other for a long time. They had completed their mission and earned the right to a happy life. But Amelia felt wrong to be happy. At least, not when she was still in Switzerland.

Still… I made a mental note: the next time we were alone, I was going to strip the sarcasm from her mouth and remind her exactly what last night meant. Even if I didn’t understand it myself. Four hours later, we touched down at Van Nuys Airport, the L.A. skyline a jagged halo beyond the fogged windows. Charlotta stood wordlessly, collected her bag, and stepped toward the door before I did. Harley gave her a wink as we disembarked. “Don’t work her too hard, Moore,” he joked. “Or do. She’s tougher than she looks.” She didn’t even blink. And neither did I.