“I need help,” he gasped.

“Grace, grab the other yoke.”

“Pull back when I say pull.”

I stepped over to the co-pilot’s seat.

I sat down and gripped the heavy black controls.

They felt cold and incredibly heavy.

I could feel the wind fighting against the metal skin of the plane.

It felt like trying to hold a wild animal by its horns.

“Three hundred feet,” the voice said.

“Keep it level,” Malachi said.

“Don’t let the right wing drop.”

“If it drops, we cartwheel.”

“I’ve got it,” I said.

I pulled back with all my strength.

The plane stabilized slightly, but the vibrations were intense.

“Two hundred feet,” the voice said.

Through the rain, I could see the individual lights of the runway now.

They were bright green and red.

“One hundred feet.”

“Get ready to kick the rudder,” Malachi said.

“I’ll handle the pedals, you hold the yoke.”

“Fifty feet.”

The runway was right under our nose, but we were still flying sideways.

“Thirty.”

“Twenty.”

“Now!” Malachi yelled.

He stomped on the left rudder pedal.

The nose of the giant plane swung violently to the left, aligning with the centerline.