Excerpt from The Last Pilot by Benjamin Johncock, plus links to reviews, author biography & more

Let's give it a try, Yeager said.

They walked back into the hangar, climbed up to the cockpit and tested the technique. No one saw.

Looks good, Harrison said. How you gonna get down the ladder though?

One rung at a time. Either that or Ridley can piggyback me.

You bring the paint?

Sure did.

Let's get on with it, case any brass show up.

*   *   *

The sun moved west a foot an hour. The sky was empty and long. Pancho stood outside, cigar burning between her teeth. The flight was scheduled for ten. Inside, Glennis sat up at the bar. Pancho took one last pull then put the cigar out on the rail and went back inside.

Get you anything, sweetie? she said.

No, Glennis said. Thanks, Pancho.

You okay?

Glennis looked up.

Never know how many places to set for supper, she said.

They sat and waited.

How's his side this morning? Pancho said.

Says it aches, but the vet fixed him up pretty good, least for today.

The radio was on. It was almost ten. Technicians were preparing the flight.

Gracie, Pancho said.

Glennis turned around.

Hey, Glennis said. I was coming to see you later.

She slid from the stool and the women embraced.

Thought I might as well be here, Grace said. Hi, Pancho.

You want a drink? Pancho said.

I'll have a beer.

Grace, honey, I'm so sorry, Glennis said, sitting back down. Jim told me last night.

It's fine, Grace said, really.

Let me come over later.

Sure, that'd be nice.

Pancho put a bottle down in front of her.

I just want this over with, Glennis said.

Almost ten, Pancho said. Sure you don't want nothin?

Beer'd be good I guess, she said.

On me. Both of them, Pancho said, reaching beneath the bar and passing her a bottle.

Glennis stared at the bottle of suds, turning it clockwise with her fingertips.

There's this thing, she said, happens time to time. Sure wish it didn't. Don't know how I see it, but I do; I always do. I'm on the airplane with him. He's strapped in, door locked, waiting for the drop. And I see, over his shoulder, the pressure fall on the fuel gauge. Needle drops fast, to zero. Only he doesn't see it, so I tell him, Chuck, your fuel pressure's dropped, you need to call for an abort, but he can't hear me, so I shout at him to check his dials—which, course, he does anyway—and I feel so relieved. He turns everything off and calls for an abort over the loop. Tower hears him, Jim and Kit flying chase hear him, boys in the NACA truck hear him—I hear him—but the B-29 pilot up there—and I never know who it is—doesn't hear him. He's accidentally

Excerpted from The Last Pilot by Benjamin Johncock. Copyright © 2015 by Benjamin Johncock. Excerpted by permission of Picador. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.