A loud, metallic clonk sounded from somewhere deep beneath the cockpit floor, followed by the high-pitched whistle of escaping air.

The green cabin pressure indicator on the center console plunged into the red zone.

At the same instant, the cockpit door behind us began to rattle violently.

Someone on the other side was throwing their entire weight against the reinforced panel.

“Grace!” a muffled voice screamed from the galley. “Open the door! They’re fighting out here!”

I looked at Malachi, whose small hands were desperately fighting the heavy, pulling weight of the yoke.

“I can’t hold her, Grace,” he sobbed, his small body shaking. “She wants to dive.”

I stood up, my head spinning from the thinning air, and looked at the lock on the cockpit door.

The brass deadbolt was vibrating so hard it was a blur.

Outside, the sound of glass breaking and passengers screaming rose above the roar of the wind.

My hand reached for the override switch on the wall.

If I opened that door, the panic from the cabin would flood inside.

If I kept it closed, we would die in here alone.