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

He did some calculations, thinks it could work.

What if the motor gets stuck trim-up or trim-down?

Then you got a problem.

Yeager grunted. What if the airflow overwhelms the motor and stops the tail from pivoting?

Then you got another problem, but nothing different than what I had today.

Could rip the damn tail off as it's pivoting too.

You got insurance, right?

Me and Ridley call this part the ughknown. He really thinks it'll work?

Tested the hell out of it today. Worked just fine. Point nine-six Mach. Felt a bit ragged, but it'll keep you in the air.

Anything else?

The windshield frosted over at one point.

It frosted? It usual' fogs. I just wipe it away.

That cabin's so damn cold. I took my gloves off, tried to scrape it, nearly lost my fingers.

How'd you land?

Kit was flying chase and talked me down blind. Said I must have been sweatin pretty hard to ice the shield like that.

Yeager chuckled again.

Listen, Yeager, Harrison said. That's the best damn airplane I ever flew, but it'll bite you hard in the ass when you least expect it.

One damn thing after another.

Yeah.

Get Russell to put a coating of Drene shampoo on the windshield tomorrow; that ought to sort it out. Best antifreeze there is.

Harrison nodded. You want another?

Hang on, here's Pancho, Yeager said.

Well, Pancho said. Look at this: my boys.

Rum was good, Harrison said.

I know. Yeager, you ol bastard, where's Glennis?

She's coming. Jus sorting out the babysitter.

How's Mickey and Don?

Doin good.

Those are fine boys you got there, Yeager, you hear me? Don't screw them up by doing something stupid like getting crunched.

She looked at Harrison.

When you gonna do the right thing like Yeager here? What have you got to show for your miserable existence on this rock?

Well, maybe when I reach the grand age of Yeager here I'll think about it.

I'll have a drink for that, kid, Yeager said.

They're on the house for you fellas tonight, Pancho said, so you can both shut up.

You're a peach, Yeager said.

A real peach, Harrison said.

And you two are a couple of miserable sons-of-bitches, but you're the fastest men in this room so I'll get Billy to bring you something over.

Thanks, Pancho.

She moved on.

Billy! Scotch for the two pudknockers in the corner. The good stuff.

Billy brought the drinks.

Shit, Harrison said.

What?

Doesn't matter.

Grace coming over?

Yeah.

You think Pancho's gonna keep goin on about kids?

He nodded.

Don't sweat it. Get outside, catch her as she comes in.

I'll see you, Chuck.

You bet.

Harrison started toward the door. A sharp sound cut through the noise and the singing. Pancho was standing on the bar, banging two empty beer bottles together.

Listen up, you sorry bunch of peckerheads. They say there's a demon living at Mach one. Well, maybe there is, maybe there ain't; all I know is Harrison and Yeager make you all look like goddamn mouse farts in the wind.

The bar roared.

Either that or the air force don't care if they get clobbered, a loud voice said.

Who said that? Pancho said. Gene May. Might have guessed nothing but horseshit could come out the mouth of a civilian pilot.

The screen door banged against the wall. Harrison looked up and saw his wife standing in the doorway. She stepped inside, leaned against the wall and folded her arms.

You young fellas, May said. What makes you think you can fly faster than sound itself?

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.