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duck and protect our skulls with our arms.
    The cart goes too, cutting off their screams as it crashes into them at the back of the plane.
    I don’t need to see them to know that they are all dead, but I look anyway.
    The three of them are at the very back of the plane, in a heap of obscenely contorted limbs splattered with blood. I can’t see much of Gordon, but Mr. Hendersen’s body is bent at the waist in an impossible position that has his face pressed to the floor between his ankles. The edge of the now upside-down cart has come to rest on the side of Emily’s battered head. Her eyes are wide open and staring. One of the cart’s wheels spins another time or two, then slows to a stop.
    â€œDad!” yells Axel. “Dad! You okay? You answer me!
Dad?
Daaaaaaaaaad!
”
    The plane climbs higher.
    The cabin lights flicker and then die, leaving us in absolute darkness except for the light strips down the aisle.
    Outside our windows, that malignant black void seems to have come alive. It undulates, pulsing against the plane and revealing patches that are lighter than others. Part of it seems to glitter, but I can’t tell if it’s a trick of the dim cabin light or signs of the sun trying to break through.
    I have two frantic thoughts:
    The darkness wants to come into the plane.
    We must not let it come into the plane.
    The speakers chime and the pilot’s voice, cheery over the moaning of the injured men in the cockpit with him, comes over the speakers again. “Folks, I’m experiencing mechanical difficulties up here, but I don’t want you to worry. I’ve got everything under control.”
    The speakers are quiet again.
    Beneath our feet, we feel the unmistakable rumble of the landing gear easing down, into position, as though we’re circling the Atlanta area for our final approach. One astonished beat passes, and then Captain Cummings’s intentions become clear even to our panic-dazed brains.
    The passengers’ terrified uproar fills the cabin.
    With all the commotion, I almost miss the moment when the plane slows and the force pressing me back into my seat eases. But suddenly we’re sitting like normal airplane passengers again rather than imitating astronauts on liftoff.
    Resistance drags on the plane for several excruciating beats and it hangs, suspended, for the length of time it takes for my heart to stop. And then it begins to lose altitude.
    My stomach drops and then goes weightless as the plane’s nose levels off and then dips toward the sea. I am paralyzed and numb, buried so deeply inside myself that the chaos all around me is nonexistent.
    â€œBrace yourself!” roars Carter. He gives his seat belt one last yank to make sure it’s tight, bends at the waist and wraps his hands around his head, watching to make sure the rest of us do the same. “Crash position!”
    â€œCrash position!” echoes Gray, smacking me on the arm to make sure I’ve got it. “Pass it on!”
    We’ve got it. The mantra rises up all around me, battling with the sobs and Espi’s cries for her mother, and everyone I can see rests their torso on their legs and protects their head.
    I shake with a fear so powerful that my teeth begin to chatter. I cannot make them stop, and when I try to clench my jaw, I catch the inside of my cheek and taste the coppery tang of blood.
    This is it, isn’t it? I am going to be dead five minutes from now. We all will.
    My mind focuses on two things:
    My seat is a flotation device, and there is one row between me and the door.
    We fall and fall. The descent lasts for so long that I can almost convince myself that God has changed his mind and this is not happening after all.
    And then, quite suddenly, someone in the cockpit begins shouting. “Pull up!
Pull up!
”
    A miracle happens. The plane’s nose tips up. Resistance drags the plane, making it shudder and slow. The engine goes silent. We