Out Of The Blue by Josh Lanyon

Author:Josh Lanyon
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: gay historical fiction, gay fiction, gay romance, m/m fiction, m/m romance
ISBN: 9781937909178
Publisher: Just Joshin' Publications
Published: 2012-07-10T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter Three

There was no dawn patrol the next morning. The early morning rain rumbled down drowning the distant thunder of the guns and turning the château windows silver.

Bat had walked back from the lodge at first light, Digs trotting beside him. He breakfasted in the mess on croissants and hot coffee then spent the rest of the morning in the blue room napping and reading Riders of the Purple Sage while Digs snored next to the bed. Having slept deeply and dreamlessly the night before, Bat felt strangely peaceful now.

Just before noontime he went down to the mess. The lads — already restless with inactivity — were smoking and talking and playing cards; “Roses of Picardy” was playing as usual but for once no one was singing along.

Bat was both a little relieved and a little disappointed that Cowboy was not there. Not that he had much time to think about it. Mac was pouring him a drink as Ambrose approached with two uniformed youths in tow.

“Replacements,” Ambrose told him, with a jerk of his head. “Burns and Pickering.” To the shining-eyed fliers who snapped twin salutes and gazed at Bat with near awe, he said, “Captain Bryant. A Flight’s leader — and the best fuckin’ pilot in 44 Squadron.”

“Gentlemen,” Bat said. “At ease. We don’t stand on ceremony here.” Immediately the replacements began chattering about what an honor this was and how eager they were to begin showing the old Huns...

Bat glanced inquiringly at Ambrose who, interpreting his look correctly, said, “Eighteen hours for Burns. Pickering has sixteen.”

“But we’re fast learners, sir,” Pickering put in quickly. “Top of our class.”

“We will go up tomorrow, won’t we, sir?” Burns added anxiously.

“You’ll be going up this afternoon if the weather clears,” Bat said.

The replacements beamed and Bat nodded pleasantly, took up his glass and moved down to the end of the bar where Tubby joined him a short while later.

“You know, old man, you’re going to have to do something about Heath,” Tubby informed him.

Bat looked up from The Sunday Times — collected and posted faithfully from home each week by Lady Edith Rowe, the girl he supposed he would marry if he survived the war. Since that was highly unlikely, he didn’t worry much about it. Besides, Edie was a nice enough girl. A bit ... aggressive, perhaps.

“What about Heath?” Bat inquired.

“You know damn well what about it. He’s loafin’ up there. We all know it. I can’t think why you’ve let him off the hook this long.”

Bat’s jaw tightened. Yes. He knew. He could feel Heath’s fear every time they went up. He knew that sick dread well — had gone through something similar after the first time he’d been shot down.

The trick was not giving yourself time to think about it.

And of course Bat was far more afraid of letting down his family, his name, his country than of being killed. Heath — well, things were rather different for Heath.

“Are you saying I’m not doing my job?” Bat asked coolly.

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