“I’ll find it,” I said, standing up.

The plane took a sudden, stomach-churning drop.

My feet left the floor for a fraction of a second before I slammed back down, my knees buckling.

“Hold it steady, Gerald!” Malachi yelled.

“I can’t!” Gerald screamed, his voice cracking with pure terror. “The wheel is pulling to the left! It’s pulling me!”

“Fight it!” Malachi said. “Use both hands!”

I looked at the altimeter.

Twenty-six thousand feet.

The numbers were rolling down rapidly.

My chest felt tight, a dull ache spreading behind my ribs.

The air in the cockpit was growing heavier, smelling of sweet chemicals and hot copper.

“Twenty-four thousand,” I announced, my voice sounding distant to my own ears.

“The speed is climbing,” Malachi warned. “Two hundred and ninety knots. Gerald, ease back on the yoke. Slowly. Slowly!”

Gerald pulled back with a jerk.

The plane’s nose pitched upward, and we were slammed into our seats by the sudden G-force.

“Not that hard!” Malachi gasped. “You’ll tear the tail off!”

“I’m sorry! I don’t know what I’m doing!” Gerald sobbed.

He was sweating profusely, his expensive suit soaked through.