Gregg Manning

Thirty Seven Below Gregg Manning

With an ear deafening roar the front of the cockpit exploded inwards. The laminated glass disintegrated and was propelled back into the cabin like pellets from a shotgun cartridge. Both Dave and Terry were peppered from head to knees as the small pieces of glass embedded themselves into their bodies. Terry had two white objects protruding from his stomach. These had been propelled forward from the body of the eagle at such a speed that they were almost as clean as if they had been boiled. Only a very pale pink tinge belied the fact that these were bones. In less than a second the 737 had been turned from a modern sophisticated airliner into a pilotless piece of junk hurtling along at five hundred miles an hour. The front of the plane was now a gaping hole like the open mouth of a flying dragon. The windshield was completely gone and much of the surrounding structure was in tatters and bits were still being ripped away by the wind howling through the cockpit. Many of the controls were gone and wires had been exposed. The beautiful majestic eagle had been reduced to fourteen pounds of bird fat that was now coating the inside of the cockpit and the two men.