“The air is getting bad,” Gerald gasped, coughing suddenly. “It feels… thick.”

I inhaled deeply and felt a strange, metallic sting at the back of my throat.

The air conditioning vents above us were whispering, but the air coming out felt warm and sweet.

“The filters,” I said, looking at the environmental control panel on the overhead. “The flow rate is dropping.”

“My dad had notes on this,” Malachi said, his breathing getting shallower. “In his flight bag.”

He nodded toward the black leather bag sitting on the floor behind the captain’s seat.

“Get the notebook, Grace,” Malachi said. “The one with the yellow cover.”

I reached down and unzipped the heavy bag, my hands shaking so much I could barely guide the zipper.

Inside were charts, manual binders, and a small, worn notebook with a yellow legal pad tucked into the front pocket.

I pulled it out and opened the first page.

The handwriting was neat, precise, and filled with diagrams of the aircraft’s systems.

“What am I looking for, Malachi?” I asked, scanning the pages under the dim emergency light.