Page 47

Brian keeps his eyes on the gauges. “Pressure’s still dropping. We need to shut it down.”

“Do it.”

Colston works through the checklist while Brian confirms everything from behind us. When it’s time, I pull the condition lever back and feather the prop.

The difference is immediate.

The sound of the engines changes, the smooth roar turning uneven as number three winds down, and the whole plane pulls hard to the right.

My boot goes down on the rudder.

Hard.

The pressure shoves straight up my leg as I fight to keep the nose where I want it. My thigh starts burning almost immediately, and the yoke suddenly feels twice as heavy in my hands.

“Engine three secured,” Colston says beside me. “No fire indication. We’re cleared straight back.”

“Good.”

I adjust the trim until the pressure eases enough that I’m not trying to hold ninety thousand pounds of airplane straight with one leg.

Then I look over at Colston.

He’s already watching the instruments again, completely locked in.

This is why I trust him with my life.

“Let’s get her home.”

Three engines will get us home, but the plane feels heavier with number three shut down, and I have to keep pressure on the rudder the entire way back to stop the nose from wandering.

By the time Lakeland comes into view, my right leg is burning.

Colston handles the radio and keeps an eye on everything I can’t while I line us up with the runway. He’s quiet now, feeding me exactly what I need and nothing else.

“Approach looks good.”

I adjust our heading as we descend, keeping my eyes moving between the runway and the instruments.

Then a gust hits us from the right.

The dead engine is on that side, and the wing drops hard enough to make my stomach jump. I shove the rudder down and correct with the yoke, muscling the plane back where I want it.

Beside me, Colston doesn’t react beyond tightening his grip on the controls in front of him.

“Airspeed’s good,” he says. “You’re right on centerline.”

“I’ve got it.”

The runway fills the windshield.

Fire trucks and ambulances are waiting off to the side with their lights flashing, but I barely register them. I’m too focused on getting ninety thousand pounds of airplane onto the ground without making their day any more interesting.

The main gear hits with a solid thump.

I keep us straight, bring the remaining engines into reverse, and feel some of the tension finally leave my shoulders as we slow.

By the time I turn us off the runway, my thigh is shaking from holding the rudder pressure.