“If we stay at this altitude, the gas will kill them,” Malachi shot back. “My dad’s notes say we need to get below ten thousand feet. Once we are there, the air outside is thick enough to breathe. We can open the outflow valves.”

“He’s right,” a weak voice mumbled from behind us.

I turned my head.

First Officer Danny Cole was stirring in the observer’s seat.

His eyes were bloodshot, his lips blue, but he was trying to sit up.

“Danny,” I said, kneeling beside him. “Can you stand? Can you take the seat?”

Cole shook his head weakly, his hand clawing at his collar.

“Can’t… can’t focus,” he whispered. “The gas. My head is spinning. I can’t see the screens.”

He slumped back, his chin resting on his chest, but his hand pointed toward the ceiling.

“Ten thousand,” Cole gasped. “Get to… ten thousand. Ram air… switch.”

“Where is the ram air switch, Danny?” I asked, shaking his shoulder gently.

He didn’t answer. His eyes closed again, his breathing shallow and ragged.

“I know where it is,” Malachi said. “It’s on the overhead panel. Under the environmental controls. It has a red guard.”