The plane bucked as turbulence hit, jolting me from my book. Outside the window, shadows swallowed the light. I hated these bush plane flights, but dad counted on my monthly visits.

A deep, ragged cough broke through my earplugs. My attention snapped toward the pilot. Another cough wracked him, and he swayed. Panic clawed my gut. No co-pilot.

Only the pilot and two other kids on this flight. The twin ten-year-old boys also from a split household, making their monthly custody pilgrimage. My eyes snagged on theirs.

The plane tilted as the pilot slumped forward.

No time. I ripped off my seatbelt and dove into the co-pilot seat.

“What do I do?”

His left hand clutched his chest, his face twisting in pain. He mouthed “autopilot,” and his eyes fluttered shut.

“Then what?”

Behind me, one of the boys cried out, his voice cracking with terror. “We’re gonna crash.”

It hit me like a punch. I’d flown with my dad but never flown. Now, I had to.

My gaze swept over the controls. AUTO. A green light.

I pressed the radio’s push-to-talk button. “MAYDAY, MAYDAY, Air Traffic, the pilot is . . .down.”

“Roger, emergency declared. Who’s in control of the plane?”

“I am. AUTO is on.”

“What are you flying?”

“A Piper, from Anchorage. Two other kids onboard.”

“How old are you?”

“Fourteen.” My voice wavered, but I clenched my jaw and steadied my breathing. Like my dad had shown me.

“Understood. Look for ALT and KNOTS. Read them.”

“6,500 feet. 120 knots.”

“Do you see the GPS?”

Panic surged as I searched, frantically locating the blinking dot on the screen—a straight line guiding us toward “Yes.”

“We’ve got you on radar. Can you locate the landing gear lever?”

“Found it.”

“You’re almost there. Stay steady. Slowly reduce power by pulling back on the throttle. Ease the yoke back slightly to lift the nose. Adjust the flaps to 30.”
A gust slammed the plane sideways. Behind me, a boy whimpered, “Will we die?”

“Not today.” I whispered fiercely, gripping the controls tighter.

The runway loomed ahead, impossibly narrow, but stretching endlessly toward safety. My hands shook uncontrollably.

“You’ve got this. Just a little more.”

The wheels kissed the tarmac.