Ethan, we lost number two. We lost it. I've got it. I've got it right. Rudder, help me.
Right. Rudder. They both stood on the rudder pedals, fighting the yaw. The airplane trying to twist itself out of the sky. We're single engine now.
We're single engine. That's fine. I've flown single engine. We can do this on one. Kalin, don't let go.
Keep it coming. Keep the nose where I put it. We're descending too fast. I know. We're not going to make the runway.
We're going to make the runway. Ethan's voice was pure iron, pure command, the voice of a man who had been in the valley of the shadow of death before and walked out the other side and knew the way. 20 m. Give me a number, Kalin. Air speed 190 and falling altitude 8,000.
We're okay. We're on profile. One engine's plenty. Just hold what you've got and believe me. The airplane shuddered.
Dropped caught. 15 mi. Talk. 15 mi. 6,000 ft.
185 knots. Ethan, the runway. It looks so short. It's long enough. It's exactly long enough.
10 mi. Now we're committed. This is the approach. This is the one. There's no going around on one engine.
So this is it. This is the whole ball game. Delaney. He raised his voice toward the door. Get him.
Braced. Brace for landing. Brace now. Behind the door. Delaney's voice rang out through the cabin sharp and clear.