Artificial Horizon - A César Fernando Basa x Reader story

XXXVIII - Decision Height

Decision altitude (DA) as per FAA, or Decision height (DH), is a specified altitude or height in the precision approach or approach with vertical guidance at which a missed approach must be initiated if the required visual reference to continue the approach has not been established. Decision altitude is referenced to mean sea level and decision height is reference to the threshold elevation.

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I wake up at the sound of distant bombing. The ground seems to ripple like some earthquake; that if it hadn't been for the sound of chaos, I'll definitely consider it as an act of God than as an act of man. It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust in the pitch-black darkness that envelops the room. Often times, I keep a light by the bedside table switched on even as I sleep; hence, it is a surprised that no sight of a glow can be hinted. Not to mention that it is an apparent case that didn't only involve the room right now, even the view of the neighborhood and the city is in darkness as seen from the windows. The only consistent light had been the full moon shining brightly against the black background, accompanied with a number of stars.

Keeping my ears attuned, I realize that it isn't only the whistle of planes flying overhead and the bombs being dropped that can be heard in the distance; even the sound of the otherwise beautiful tune of church bells now feels like a screeching sound as it rings.

It sounds so wrong to say that "It has begun"; for the war had been going on for years, and the Philippines is just a silent observer for those times. It isn't also fitting to say such thing when the first strike had been yesterday as the north was bombed by the Japanese. And it seems chaos is spreading south with what is going on right now.

Another series of the planes' engines roar overhead, and I definitely close my eyes in some prayer that the whistle of a bomb dropping will not be so audible. It didn't, as it just heads on to its target. The sound of the bomb exploding from the distance leads me to slowly open my eyes and catch a small glimpse of a bright light appearing in the dark sky, slowly receding as flames rise and the blackness of the night blends with the smoke.

Siguradong Nielson iyon, ano? I ponder. O Zablan kaya? O Nichols?

The closest airfield from our location right now is definitely Nielson. But it doesn't mean that Zablan and Nichols will be spared from the bombing itself, too. And also, not the neighborhood itself. Of course, the Japanese could easily just play the card that they don't know or even care about the civilians; as long as they make notice of their territory that this is battleground. That no place will ever be safe as they establish dominance in here. They are really planning to tell the Americans that no one's going to stop them for acquiring what they are truly after for.

I lightly bite my lower lip, and once again hear the sizzle of an aircraft. I settle into that respective routine of closing my eyes and holding my breath, slowly opening my eyes and breathing out in relief when the sound of the bomb exploding had been heard from afar than to see myself in what may awaits everyone in the afterlife. I don't think that seeing the darkness of the room and feeling César's heartbeat and breathing against mine is how the end of life will be.

Pero siguro may chance na ganoon ang dulo, ano? I ponder. That, immediately after death, we are brought to a plane where we'll definitely be happy. And my happiness had been here with me right now.

I sigh another time after hearing three or four bombs that I know will be a common occurrence; that when it happens, everyone had already managed to find a way to bomb shelters. For now that there hadn't been any centralized response to such things, everyone holds their breath and mutters prayers that they'll not be finding the bomb dropping on top of us. And, slowly, I turn my head to César.