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On a Dark Horse	By : TarnishedArmour Category: G through L > Jericho Views: 1536 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Jericho is wholly owned by CBS and those affiliated with & responsible for the production and creation of the show. I make no profit from the use of said fandom, except warm-fuzzies from reviews.

Chapter List
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Timestamp: Same as chapters 1 & 2, Bombs + 3; some events tweaked from original timeline
A/N: Okay, this is not a Mary Sue, even though first blush kinda looks that way. Believe me, Aylah's going to have some serious issues, but she's not an airhead, either. The practical side of Johnston is what I'm invoking here, not some latent bad-boy streak. Any lines recognized from the show are for continuity & establishing character/events.
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The number of doubletakes the people of Jericho made when they say Johnston, Jake, Jonah and some girl they didn't recognize walking down the street together was amusing. The shocked silence that followed their entry was more than a bit disturbing. Even Mary couldn't think of anything to say in greeting.
"Ah, Mary," Johnston said, his tone easy as every. "I need four glasses and a bottle of Black Label, if you have any left."
Mary blinked, then actually stuttered. "S-s-sure, Mayor Green." She didn't start moving until the four started walking to a booth next to the Main Street window. Her hands were shaking and she stared at them as she fumbled through motions she had made second nature over the years.
Jonah and Johnston settled into their seats easily. Jake and Aylah slid in first, leaving the older men the ability to exit quickly, for whatever occasion arose.
"Place hasn't changed much," Jonah commented, looking around. "Mechanical bull is gone."
"Not that you ever rode it," Johnston replied, leaning back. "Seem to recall you didn't like ridin' much."
"I prefer machines. Less attitude." Jonah did not get along well with horses, much to Johnston's amusement.
"Says the mechanic," Aylah added, "who happens to restore muscle cars as a hobby. How much more attitude can you get than a vintage engine that needs to be rebuilt?"
"You know cars?" Jake asked, curious again. What was it about women that kept him so interested in, well, everything? Other than the obvious, of course. There was always that, but he wasn't really looking for that.
"Mm. Among other things," Aylah said, leaving the subject where it was. Jonah wouldn't.
"She's too modest. Mechanical and electrical engineer, working in Rogue River for the manufacturing complex. Top of her class," he added, a tug at his lip indicating more than a little pride.
"Really?" Now Johnston was very interested in the information she had available. "We'll talk about our options for the town," he paused as Mary arrived. "Thank you, Mary. 'Preciate it." He took the unopened bottle of Black Label and placed the glasses around the table. With an obviously practiced wrist, he poured shots around.
Jonah and Johnston lifted their glasses. "The deal," Johnston said.
"The deal," Jonah echoed. They touched glasses and drank simultaneously, the almost determined background noise fading out into silence as Jake and Aylah completed the tradition that was as old as the town itself.
"Heard and witnessed," they chorused as they raised their glasses and drank. Aylah hissed as the whiskey burned its way down her throat and exploded in her stomach. She really needed to eat something.
A sudden spate of static & Mandarin forestalled any comments about the whiskey from the four people in the center of the town's attention. Faces snapped to the televisions and eyes widened in horror as a map of the U.S. with blinking red rings filled the screen. The man in suit and tie was secondary to the sight of those concentric circles expanding and collapsing over and over again.
"My God," someone whispered.
"What language is that? Korean?" another anonymous comment.
"I think it's Chinese," a lady added.
"Mandarin," Hawkins said, looking at the screens, then away as Mary grabbed for her radio.
"Move it back! We had something…" The picture faded out, then back in again as the men on the roof moved the huge dish back a few inches. Jonah and Johnston sprang up from their seats, the open bottle forgotten as they moved toward the front of the room. Gray Anderson somehow appeared from the crowd behind Jake and Aylah.
"Question is," Jake said to no one in particular, "are they just reporting it, or are they behind it?'
"We need more information," Johnston said, absently as he marked locations. Damn-couldn't see Washington D.C. Was it still there?
"We'll put together a team to go out on the main highways. North, South, East, and West," Jake was still speaking as he walked over to the map that had been out on one of the tables near the bar. It was a Kansas map, and that was enough.
"I'll go," Gray offered, looking at the four main highways. "I'll head toward Topeka."
The conversation continued and someone made a comment about the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. Aylah was half listening to the men, which now included Jonah and Johnston, and added her own to the conversation.
"Pity we don't have any pilots around here," she said, staring at the static, hoping the images would return.
"What?" Gray looked at her oddly, thinking she was drunk. In fact, she almost was. Whiskey on an empty stomach for a woman who almost never drank was lethal.
"Pilots. You know, the people who hop into airplanes and then depend upon said mechanical contrivances to defy gravity? Ring a bell?" She turned to look at the tall, bald man. It was dislike at first sight. "And who are you?"
"Gray Anderson. I own part of the salt mine. You are?" He didn't think much of this little snippet chiming in on a conversation that was going to be important to the whole town. Pilot? Who needed a pilot? They needed information.
"Aylah Wilson." She looked at Johnston, dismissing Gray out of hand. "Know anyone who can fly older commuter planes or cropdusters?"
Johnston wasn't saying anything. He was just looking at Jake. So was Jonah. Neither of them looked happy.
"Why? There's no ATC," at Aylah's questioning expression, Jake clarified, "Air Traffic Control. It'd be-" He stopped suddenly. The word suicide had been on his tongue, but her question finally clicked. "The airport. The small planes-they don't run on computers. Especially the older dusters-and we've got plenty of fuel for them."
Jake started for the door, Aylah a step behind him. When he stopped on the sidewalk and looked around, she called him. "Hey, Jake? Need a car?" She jingled the keys in the air meaningfully.
"Yeah, thanks." He reached for the keys.
"Take me with you." She moved the keys out of his reach.
"Why?" Jake was surprised enough to stop his reach. He looked down at the girl, at least six inches shorter than he was.
"So you'll have someone who can help you check out the plane. I may not know aviation systems well, but I can spot mechanical problems in complex systems, check pressures, the usual. I can also figure out how to work the tower radio so you can call back." She was being patient, but this boy was enough to try the patience of a saint, and Lord knew she was hardly that.
Jake smiled suddenly. "Makes sense."
Aylah snorted. "If you'd thought before you started running, you'd've figured this much out, too." She headed for the car she'd driven to town, then tossed Jake the keys after unlocking her door. When he raised his eyebrows, she added wryly, "No lunch." She folded herself into the passenger's seat and closed the door.
"Lightweight," he teased as he slid into the driver's seat. He reached over and snagged Jonah's sunglasses from the dash.
Aylah raised her eyebrows, and her expression clearly asked if he knew what he was doing in commandeering Jonah's good shades.
"Gets brighter in the air," he explained, grinning as he saw half of Bailey's empty out onto the sidewalk. The irritated expression on Jonah's face made it worthwhile. The irritated expression on his father's helped him decide to at least give a little explanation for the sudden departure. He turned to drive down the wrong side of the street and stopped in front of his father. "Aerial survey first. Then, when I get back, we'll talk about what the best routes to take out of town. The planes here are small enough that, if I stay low and in local airspace, I won't affect anything the military may have going."
"Good idea, son. Keep the flight short. How much time will you need to prepare for the flight?"
"Probably two hours to pick the plane and give it a pre-flight once-over. If there are any problems, I'll have to choose a different plane and then start the check again. I'd say no more than four hours before I'm in the air." Jake was clicking over his checklists in his head. "Rained much lately?"
"What?" Johnston was thrown by the question. "What does that-look, you do what you need to do and if you're not in the air within those four hours, we'll send Old Man Adams down there to help you. He's run the airport for years. We'll get a camera, so maybe you can snap a few shots out the window..."
While Jake and Johnston were talking, for information and the benefit of the spectators, Jonah had walked around the back of the car. His car. He tapped the glass.
Aylah rolled down her window and Jonah leaned down, resting his forearms on the door. His familiar face filled the open window and when he spoke, his voice was unusually quiet.
"Aylah?" It was the only question Jonah would ask, and he didn't need to say anything else.
"Going to help check the systems, make sure the tower radio is working." Jonah would understand the rest of it. She was going to keep an eye on Jake, make sure she tracked his plane, just in case. "Also so that I can run for help, if we need it. Will you be here or at your place?"
"Here for a while yet. I'm going to send Billy for the boys, explain things to them on the edge of town. We'll be working on a few other things, so you may have to wait for a response." The low, rough voice held a note of concern.
"What?" She questioned his tone of voice, not his words.
"You fix planes, too?" The question was almost humourous. He knew better.
"I can spot rusty engine parts and poorly connected lines as well as any, Big J. Besides, you need to be here for the boys today. If anything needs to be done, we'll get word to Old Man Adams. If he can't figure out a way to fix it or make it right, it's beyond hope…and then I can scavenge for parts." Once again, Aylah was ahead of the game.
"My favourite little mercenary," he murmured, more than a bit proud of her thinking ahead. It was so much like what he'd done with his businesses…
"My favourite outlaw," she replied, blowing him a kiss.
Before he stood up, he levelled a look at Jake. "Take care of her."
Jake blinked in surprise when Jonah didn't even wait for a reply. It felt like five years ago, when Jonah could count on him to take orders like that without hesitation. He didn't know if it bothered him or not that he would feel that old connection falling into place now. In a way it galled, but after so many screw-ups, it felt good, too. No one really looked to him to get things right-not around here. Not until Hell came to Earth. He forced the emotions aside and concentrated on what he needed. With the weather information he'd needed and more than one person volunteering to help, should they send word to Bailey's-one even offered to climb the water tower and keep a line-of-sight on the airfield for them!-Jake was ready to go.
When he stepped on the gas and pulled away from the curb and the crowd, the questions in his head had nothing to do with the planes and everything to do with the girl--woman--beside him.
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On a Dark Horse