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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
- 5
- 6
- 7
Timestamp: Bombs + 4
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Aylah woke alone. She winced as she lifted and turned to check the time on her watch. Nine fifteen. A quick check of Jonah's side of the bed revealed that he'd been up for a while, long enough for the heat to fade from his pillow and sheets. Carefully, she levered herself into a sitting position. The cool air across her back made her shiver, but her hair soon covered the exposed skin. She looked at her arms. Round scars dotted from her shoulders down to her wrists between the longer scars and long-faded welts from the many beatings she had endured, showing where her stepfather had used her to put out his cigarettes.
She wasn't going anywhere today. As it was, she had to move carefully to stretch out. Jonah had been careful with her, and once he'd started, she'd been surprisingly more willing than she'd thought, but it had still been too long and she felt every underused muscle and overstretched tendon protesting her unexpected enthusiasm. It took her more than five minutes to stretch out enough to stand and move to the shower. The heat would finish loosening her up enough to finish her morning routine. She'd get dressed in her jeans and one of Jonah's long-sleeved shirts.
And then she'd have to go get breakfast. It was too much to hope the men had already gone to town to pick up the last of the supplies, the town radios, routes they needed to check, and the information Jake had gathered yesterday. With her luck, they'd just be sitting down to eat, too.
So long as they left her alone, she'd manage. Better yet, she'd lock herself in the garage and shop, take inventory, and look over the manuals and references she had available. Did Jonah still have her textbooks? Even though they were several years old, they were still good. Mechanics hadn't really changed, even though some of the information in the electric engineering texts was outdated now. Between inventory and looking over what Jonah had for an in-house library, she could keep occupied for at least three days.
Maybe she could manage to avoid even Jonah, if she played it right.
When she finally left Jonah's room, she was moving easily, hips swaying and her gait loose as only a well-pleased woman's could be on the morning after.
Stevie saw that walk and decided he'd have to tell Mitchell that no, Jonah wasn't kidding about Aylah being his woman. But Mitchell probably wouldn't listen. He'd tell Noah, too.
*****
Jonah lead the way into town. He'd left Aylah sleeping, knowing she'd want time alone. He rode alone, Noah and Mitchell in the next car; Leon and Billy bringing up the rear. Turned out Mitch had a mild concussion, two cracked ribs, and some deep bruises. He'd been paired with Noah to keep him from doing something incredibly stupid, like planning revenge. Noah was good about keeping Mitch calmed down, but the boy was getting too hungry for power. Chances were, he'd have to do something permanent soon.
In the conference room, Johnston had had his secretary, Jake, and a volunteer, Heather Lisinski, putting up the information from the photos Jake had snapped. The high school photography teacher, Mr. Kenneth Blane, had taken the time to develop the rolls of film that night. Then the three had stayed up with Johnston to interpret the images--until Gail had come in and threatened Johnston with various humiliations if he didn't get home to bed. Finally, three hours after Johnston had gone home, the others finished their notes and decided to camp out in the shelter downstairs. That had been near dawn. If Eric hadn't remembered that he and Jake had sometimes stayed there all night as kids, Johnston would've called out a search party to find them that morning. As it was, they'd just finished recording and posting the information when Jonah and his 'volunteers' came in.
"Jonah," Johnston said, nodding to the man in the lead. "Boys," he said, acknowledging the others.
"Johnston," Jonah returned the greeting, almost friendly. Behind him his men nodded and muttered, "Mayor Green" by way of greeting. One of them added, "Who's the fox?" It was Leon. Jonah stifled the impulse to strangle the boy--he thought with the head below his belt far, far too often.
Heather's eyes grew wide at that comment and she looked at Jake, who was standing next to her by the photo-map they'd laid out. He just shook his head at her to stop the question that was written all over her face, and said aloud to Leon, "She's spoken for. Find your own."
"Jake Green," came a hoarse, hateful voice. The sound made Jake tense.
"Mitchell," he returned, calm and cool. Jake wouldn't start it, but he'd finish it, and to hell with the truce.
"Easy, Mitch," Jonah cautioned, not even turning. Then, addressing Johnston again, "Nice spread. Get enough information to make it worthwhile?"
"Actually, not quite," Heather said before Johnston could reply, gathering a sour look from the man she preempted. "We have information for the visible areas, but," she used the magical teacher's reach to rapidly and clearly indicate three areas that were too heavily forested to get good information, "there are some areas where we can only use best guess. Most of that is on the back roads, but here and here, both on I-70, there are some places that could be used to conceal several standard trucks, if not larger vehicles."
"Like Humvees?" That from Noah, a voice of reason--he really wanted to be able to come to town whenever he liked. He was getting too damned old for finding a new place every three or four years.
"More like semis, military transport vehicles, and small tanks," she said. "But, there are six abandoned gas stations on each road, and it's reasonable to figure that most of the pumps require electricity, so if you have to get more fuel, taking a hand pump and a length of garden hose would be a good idea."
"I doubt that will be necessary, Heather, but thank you for the extra information," Johnston said, drawing the attention back to the routes he had mapped out. "The two car groups will be heading north and south, with a more comprehensive sweep of the roads. Gray Anderson and Shep Cale are preparing to take east and west, but as straight-shots, without detours. Now, if you can manage to cover these areas…"
Jake glanced over at her and murmured as Johnston took over the conversation from there, continuing with details as they stepped away from the photographs. "Stripping wires, rebuilding ventilators, and now how to siphon gas. Is there anything you don't know about?"
"How to make a good martini," she said, grinning up at him with wide, innocent eyes. "And I'm absolutely awful at poker."
Jake grinned. "I'll have to remember that," the wicked spark in his eyes making hers widen even more. He watched as she blushed and looked away. For someone he'd met on a bus filled with second-graders--not the recommended singles' meeting place--she'd certainly captured his attention. But…why? He liked wild blondes more than tame brunettes like Heather. Jake Green and an elementary teacher? He was just wishing. There was no way she'd be interested in him, anyway. He was too much of a screw-up. Even if she was interested, she wouldn't be after she got to know more about him.
He turned back to the conversation between Jonah and Johnston. There was something about the way they were talking that nagged at him. He couldn't quite figure it out, though.
After about two hours of hashing out the exact assignments, supplies they'd have--which now included hand pumps and some cut lengths of garden hose, thanks to Heather's suggestion and Jonah's practicality--the men turned to the photograph map.
While Johnston and Jonah briefed the boys about exact information they'd need, Heather and Jake had created an overlay using plastic wrap and dry-erase markers that Heather had scavenged from the whiteboard in the sheriff's office. She had marked south in green while Jake had worked on tracing the routes for the north in blue. They'd used simple black for the straight-lines Shep and Gray had claimed. Things they'd like to know, but weren't critical were marked in brown, and critical information points were marked in red. Heather knew how to organize. If she hadn't, she'd be insane within a week of dealing with the kids in her classes.
Jonah had to stifle a laugh as he saw the return route to town for the southern group, down Oates Street and culminating at Oates and Main, terminated in a green smiley face with curly hair and dimples. Heather waited while Jake flagged the potential trouble spots on the north side, then piped in with the problems she saw with the south side.
"Oh, and be really careful here," she said indicating a dirt road she used as a shortcut to Hayes for cheaper supplies for her science lessons. "This road is only half paved, and when it asphalt ends, there's usually a washed-out section. Avoid going over about thirty-five through here," she pointed to a spot about halfway down the photograph.
"How bad?" D'Shea asked. He hadn't travelled that way in a long time. Actually, he couldn't remember that road. Hank and Tyler, were shaking their heads, muttering and asking each other if he knew that section of old back road.
"Well, if you're lucky, you'll just have a flat. If you're not, you'll end up knocking the engine from the mount, snap an axle, and end up with two flats. If you take that section over about 35, you'll end up with all of the above, some nasty body damage, and probably flip the car. In that case, I hope you wear seat belts, 'cause otherwise you'll be in a world of hurt." Her almost perky tone, accompanied with the authoritative way she spoke about damages to their cars and them, made the four men blink.
"So why do we want this information?" Jonah asked, amused by the way her obvious nervousness had faded while she spoke to them. What was it about her that reminded him of Aylah? Rather, what Aylah could have been, given different circumstances.
"Because that route takes about forty-five minutes off the drive to Hayes, and practically no one ever uses it anymore." She paused. "And given the gas mileage I get, it's worth it."
"Well, if that's all you need from here, we'll load you all out and let you get started," Johnston said, interrupting Heather's tendency to add in too much information.
Jonah looked at his boys. "Anything else? No? Then let's get this done." The men started for the door, snagging their backpacks on the way. When the last one was out the door, Jonah turned to the mayor. "Johnston, the pumps and hoses?"
"I'll get them," Heather piped up. Johnston almost growled when he glared at her this time. "What? We keep them at the school. I found the pumps while I was rearranging the science supplies and separating out the outdated shop tools."
Jake just shook his head. He didn't want her to keep talking any more than Johnston did. "I'll go with her, Dad," he said. With that he took her arm and started taking her out of the room.
"But what about the--" she protested, pulling back a bit.
"Dad will handle it. They've got a few more details to iron out and we can pick up the hoses from the gardening store on the way." Since Jake was making sense, it was hard for Heather to argue. It was difficult to argue while being forced to hobble on a walking-cast down a slick hallway when wearing a slippery, leather soled wedge to match height with the casted foot. Otherwise, she'd have protested all the way, and loudly. As it was, her arguments about supplies and the groups leaving took a quick second to a different problem.
"Hold up, Jake!" the older men heard her yelp. "The cast!"
"Oh…sorry." Jake's voice, lower and louder than Heather's carried down the hall and through the door.
Jonah and Johnston looked at each other, and both started chuckling. It was hard not to like Heather Lisinski, no matter who you were.
"What frequency will you be using?" Johnston asked, wondering if Jonah would actually tell him.
"We'll be on 39. It carries well out here--and with a bit of tweaking, reaches a hell of a lot better than the others. And practically no one uses that frequency. It works out." Jonah figured if someone had the setup he had back at the shop, they were welcome to listen as long as they could.
"You've used that before, haven't you?" Johnston asked, his easy manner changing. Blue eyes glinted with ice. "Recently."
"Johnston, it's a free channel--public use." Jonah's words were calm, his voice low and easy. "If you want a fight, I'll give you one, but don't try to make something a crime when it's not."
Johnston started to say something, then stopped. "Ah, hell. It's been too long since we tried to get along, Jonah. Just keep it in the lines."
Jonah nodded. "I know." There was a peaceful, almost companionable silence that fell between them. Finally, Johnston picked up his coat.
"Time to see them off," he said, sliding into his coat.
"Gray and Shep leaving at the same time?"
"No, they're still gathering supplies. They expect to be gone for a few days, not the 24 hours that your guys are going out."
Jonah nodded and slid on his sunglasses, walking out beside Johnston. It was odd, the way they seemed to fall in together after so many years of being at odds. Then again, they were much the same. That had been the reason they'd been friends in school--raising a little hell here and there, just to keep from getting bored--and enemies after Jonah had come back from Lansing State Penitentiary. Johnston had walked the straight and narrow for his wife and kids and the U.S. Army.
After Jonah finished his time in the service, he'd headed for wilder places--and found Detroit. Not long after his arrival in Detroit, the law found him. He did a nickel in Lansing, met Sylvia the day he got out, and convinced her to come back to this tiny town with him. But he wasn't done with the wrong side of the law, and, after prison, had only become more familiar with it. This time, he wasn't just opposite the law, he was opposite an old friend, Johnston Green.
That was then. Now, between them and their different routes through life, maybe, just maybe, they could keep Jericho on its feet.
*****
Aylah sighed as she examined the haphazard way the men had organized their tools. What was it that made the Y chromosome immune to order? To logic? To planning ahead? To layout and design? Without bothering to ask, she began to rearranged the tools and equipment, keeping a running tally of supplies in her head.
*****
Jake and Heather returned to the street in front of Town Hall to give a hand-siphon and twenty feet of metal-less, lightweight garden hose to each group. Heather took her set to Noah, who seemed to be less inclined to unnecessary comments than the others. And these men made her little nervous. Jake walked his set to D'Shea. He didn't know these men--they were new in the last five years.
After a short conversation, mostly involving instructions and warnings about little things Jake remembered about some of the old roads, Jake and Heather returned to the steps of Town Hall. Jake helped her up the steps and stood next to her as the men climbed in the cars and started their engines. Heather sighed. Those were some well-tuned engines. There was nothing in the world like the wonderful sound of eight cylinders humming in perfect timing. She caught Jake's questioning look and just shook her head. He'd never want to talk to her if he found out she had a passion for fixing cars. Then again, he didn't seem to mind her less feminine traits. She changed the subject anyway.
"You want to go, don't you?" she asked, referring to the expression he wore as he watched the cars pull away. "You want to be out there, seeing and doing."
"Yeah." He shook his head, letting his frustration show. "Shep has kids, a wife. He shouldn't be going."
"I…I think it might have something to do with Mr. Remmy's death. He seemed pretty upset," she hazarded, not knowing if Jake had noticed. Then, not wanting to start that conversation with him now, added "Besides, who else would do the aerial survey tomorrow?"
"There are other pilots--" Jake began, irritated at the assumption he was the only person in the entire town who could fly.
"Who can and will keep in contact with Jonah?" she asked, looking up at his now impatient expression.
Jake closed his eyes. "I know Jonah. That doesn't make me the choice to be some sort of go-between." Damn the man. Would those years of idiocy forever brand him? Never mind. He had other reasons to hate himself. Jonah was just too long ago.
"But it does make you the best choice to stick around here and communicate with him. If the plane has a radio that can handle CB frequencies, you can radio back to him, too, right?" Heather was heading in a slightly different direction than he expected. Jake could see the path she was laying out. He wasn't enthusiastic about her direction.
"I could," he agreed slowly, "but that still doesn't make it easier to stay." He could see the direction she was headed, and he wasn't biting that bait. Even though it was damned tempting.
"I know." She turned back to the now-empty street. Truth be told, she wanted to know more, too, without having to wait.
"No, Heather." Jake's voice interrupted her wish. "You aren't going out there." That was downright mulish for Jake, and he wondered how Heather would handle it. He knew how Emily or his mother would--they'd rip a strip off him in a minute. Verbally, of course.
"Well, no. But I could go up with you the next time you use the Cessna." It was phrased as a question, but spoken as an offer of incalculable assistance. Heather was good at this game--she played it frequently to get materials and trips she wanted for her students. Among other things. Heather realized that Jake wasn't being a jerk, he was being careful. And what was that whole 'she's spoken for' routine earlier? Did she miss something? Either way, it was nice to feel his hand at the small of her back--where it was resting now. She wondered if he realized that, or if he'd move his hand and apologize when he did notice it.
Oblivious to his errant hand, Jake stared at her. Sneaky, this one. He'd have to refuse, of course. He'd also have to keep a closer eye on her. What were elementary teachers coming to?
*****
"I'll tell you what happened to Scott Remmy. Poor planning," Gray was loudly declaring inside as Jake and Heather reached their impasse on the porch of Town Hall. "You weren't prepared and Scott Remmy died for it."
"In my office," Johnston said, his voice grim. Damn if he wouldn't deck this nitwit before the day was out.
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- 5
- 6
- 7
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On a Dark Horse