Read by Greg Page
It was the loudest noise he had ever heard. So loud, that even though he was a hundred and fifty feet below ground, Pettigrew’s survival instinct kicked in. In one involuntary movement, he’d left his chair and was squatting on the floor, head covered by his arms, the way he’d been trained. The expletive that shot from his mouth was the same as that found on black box flight recorders, the last word said by pilots of stricken aircraft before they hit the ground.