Ack-Ack Macaque Read Online Free Page B

lap.
    “Sorry, sir.”
    The Mess Officer returned with a bottle of rum, which he set down without a word.
    Ack-Ack Macaque said, “Now, do you want a drink, kid?”
    Mindy gave a shake of her head. She had green eyes and very short ginger hair. No make-up. Ack-Ack Macaque picked up the bottle and pulled out the cork with his teeth. He spat it onto the floor.
    “Well,” he said, “if you don’t want a drink, what do you want?”
    The girl squirmed in her chair. Her cheeks were flushed.
    “I know you lost a wingman yesterday.” She hesitated, trying to gauge his reaction. “And I hoped...”
    Ack-Ack Macaque sloshed rum into his glass. The neck of the bottle clinked against the rim. He was aware that the pilots on the surrounding tables were eavesdropping on the conversation, even as they pretended not to.
    “You hoped I’d let you fly with me?”
    Mindy swallowed hard.
    “Yes, sir.”
    “How old are you?”
    “Sixteen, sir.”
    Ack-Ack Macaque gave her a sceptical look. She flushed a deeper shade of crimson. “All right, all right. I’m fifteen. But I know how to fly a kite, and I know when to follow orders, and when to keep my mouth shut.”
    Ack-Ack Macaque scratched at a sudden itch. He hoped he hadn’t picked up fleas again.
    “Where are you from, Morris?”
    “Glasgow, sir.”
    “Have you ever killed anyone?”
    The girl frowned.
    “I don’t understand.”
    Ack-Ack Macaque picked a crumb of bread from the hairs on his chest, and popped it into his mouth.
    “Have you ever been in a dogfight?”
    The girl leaned forward excitedly. “No, but I’ve racked up hundreds of hours of flight experience on simula—” She stopped herself. “On training aircraft. I’ve racked up hundreds of hours on training aircraft.”
    Ack-Ack Macaque sipped his drink. He looked at the freckles on Mindy’s nose. Something about her youth made him feel very old and very tired.
    “I don’t need someone who’s just going to get themselves, or me, killed.”
    “Oh, I won’t, sir. I promise you that.” She looked up at him with eyes the colour of a summer meadow. “Please sir. This means a lot to me.”
    Ack-Ack Macaque sighed. She wasn’t the first rookie pilot to want to fly with him. After all, he was the most famous pilot in the European theatre. The kids treated him like a grizzled old gunslinger: someone against whom to measure their own skills and nerve. Over the past few months, many had tried to keep up with him, and many had died as a result. He couldn’t remember all their names. They came, flew with him for a while, and then died. Some got sloppy, others over-confident, and some were just plain unlucky. But they all died eventually, leaving no more impression on the world than if they’d never existed in the first place. All trace of them vanished. Nobody grieved for them, and he seemed to be the only one able to remember that they’d ever been there at all.
    He looked around at the young, fresh faces sat at the other tables. They could be called to fight at a moment’s notice. Many of them would die in the hours and days ahead; yet few seemed the slightest bit perturbed. They behaved as if they were on holiday: laughing, joking and flirting. Over drinks, they casually compared the number of kills they’d made as if discussing the scores of an elaborate cricket match. How could they be so blasé in the face of almost certain death? How could life mean so little to them? For all the impression they made on the world, they may as well have been shadows.
    He put down his glass and reached again for the bottle. As he poured, he looked at Mindy.
    “Do you ever feel like you’re the only real person here, and everyone else is just pretending?”
    The room fell silent. The music stopped. Mindy sat back in her chair. Her eyes leapt left and right, as if unsure what to do. Nobody else moved. Nobody breathed.
    Ack-Ack Macaque looked around at their frozen faces.
    “What’s the matter?” He lowered the