“We are almost at the breathing limit,” Malachi said. “Grace, get ready for the ram air.”

I stood up, holding the back of the observer’s seat to steady myself against the turbulence.

I looked at the overhead panel.

The array of lights was dizzying, a sea of green, white, and amber switches.

“Where is it?” I asked.

“Middle column,” Malachi said, his eyes glued to the windshield as the dark clouds began to thin. “Look for the section marked *L-PACK* and *R-PACK*. Below that.”

I scanned the labels.

*RAM AIR.*

It was covered by a small, red plastic flap.

“I see it,” I said.

“Wait until we hit ten thousand,” Malachi said. “Otherwise, the cabin will depressurize too fast.”

“Twelve thousand,” I read.

“Ten thousand,” Malachi called out a moment later. “Now, Grace! Pull it!”

I flipped the red plastic cover up and pulled the metal toggle switch down.

A loud, rushing roar erupted from the vents.

It sounded like a vacuum cleaner running right next to my ear.

A blast of freezing, damp air hit my face.