Different Circumstances: Part 12A of ?
by Marzee Doats
Author's Note: I am once again playing with the timeline that appears to have been given to us by the show. You probably won't even notice, though I have given poor Roger a couple of days to clean up, rather than having the town meeting take place the morning after the refugees arrived in Jericho.
Warnings: Contains references to some of the depravity of the outside world. No lurid details, but it's there.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Monday, December 4, two and a half months after the bombs
"Hey," Jake murmured, laying his hands on his wife's shoulders. She tipped her head back, and he kissed her 'hello' before also greeting his parents, brother-in-law and Jeff.
"Tried to save you a seat," Heather told him, twisting around in her chair, "But Bill said I couldn't." They were five days into the Anderson administration, it was nine twenty five in the morning, Gray was five minutes from starting his first council meeting as mayor, and it was standing room only in the town council room. The Greens had managed to snag the back row - prime seating in Jericho - and for once every seat in the meeting room was taken, with a number of people already lining the walls. "He said it was first come, first serve," she complained, rolling her eyes.
"Seriously?" Jake questioned, one eyebrow raised. Her only answer was a tight smile. Shaking his head, he muttered, "Of course you're serious."
"Here, Jake, you can have my seat," Michael offered, starting to get up from his spot on Heather's left, only to be waved off.
"Probably better we don't sit together in here, anyway," Jake teased, winking at his wife. "I'll hang out at the back," he continued, pointing with his thumb over his shoulder at the open doorway two steps behind him. "Might have to leave early," he explained. Jake and Jimmy had come in for the meeting and to make their report, but he knew that eventually somebody was going to have to go out and collect the bodies of those who had died when the overnight temperatures had plummeted suddenly. They'd all known it was coming, of course, but it had been impossible to be fully prepared to face the cold weather without electricity or working furnaces, and some of Jericho's residents had paid with their lives.
Johnston, on Heather's right, glanced back at his son. "We heard there's four dead on the east side of town," he said, his voice low.
"And, three, at least, on the west side," Jake sighed. "Jimmy and I checked houses on Walnut, Green and Holly. Joe Bentner's dead," he reported, speaking quietly. Jake had just seen Joe, on election day, when he'd come to vote. It was hard to reconcile that with the lifeless, partially frozen corpse he'd discovered this morning. Laying his arm over the back of Heather's chair, Jake stooped down so that his head was between hers and Johnston's. "So're the Berrys," he informed them, grimacing. Don and Alice Berry had been Heather's across the street neighbors when she'd lived on Green Street. "I'm sorry, babe," Jake murmured, squeezing her shoulder.
Heather turned pale, obviously shocked by the news. "Mr. Berry - he used to bring me vegetables from his garden, and if he caught me shoveling my own driveway - I just can't believe it," she whispered.
"Seven people - or more - dead in one night?" Gail asked, leaning over Johnston to join the conversation, her voice hushed. "It's not even winter yet, by the calendar."
"Yeah," Jake agreed, letting out a long breath as he stood up to his full height. They heard a commotion in the hallway, and Jake took a step back to see what was going on. Gray Anderson was striding down the hallway followed closely by Bill Kilroy, Ridley Cooper, and Harry Carmichael. "Watch out," he muttered, moving forward to warn his family, "The show's about to begin."
"Welcome, everyone," Gray announced pompously as he entered the meeting room. Jake shifted out of the way, leaning against the back wall, catching the sleeve of his parka on something. He inched forward and looked back, shaking his head as he realized what he'd brushed up against; it was the plaque designating the space as the 'Eric Jacob Green Council Room'. Marching down the center aisle, Gray continued his monologue. "I think it's best that we just get started," he decided, clearing his throat. "For those of you who haven't heard, we had - we had some losses overnight. Eight - that's right, Bill, isn't it?" he asked, glancing at the deputy.
"Eight, yes," Bill confirmed. "Uh, the Swenson family over on Sixteenth Street, Joe Bentner on Walnut, the Berrys on Green, and Donna Coyle on Willow. All frozen to death, except for the Swensons, who died of asphyxiation," he finished, snapping his notebook closed. "And, we still haven't checked all the houses in town," Bill reminded with a frown.
"Right," Gray declared, nodding at the deputy to take a seat. "So I think we all understand that we face some dire circumstances 'round here."
The crowd began to mutter and shift in their seats, whether in a belated reaction to Bill's report or in response to their new mayor's hyperbolic pronouncement, it was impossible to know. "Asphyxiation?" Gail questioned, glancing first at her husband and then over her shoulder at her son. "What? How?"
Jake stepped behind her chair and, squatting down, explained quickly. "They had one of those kettle-type barbeques, and they were trying to keep warm burning charcoal briquette in a sealed up house." He shook his head, letting out a frustrated breath. The door-to-door teams had held a quick debrief just before the meeting, and Jake was very glad that he hadn't found the Swensons. Clyde Davis, who had found them, had looked positively sick as he'd reported their deaths, and Jake figured a suffocated corpse had to be an even more gruesome sight than a frozen one.
"My God," Gail mumbled, covering her mouth with her hand. "The Swensons' children -"
"Ten and twelve, I'm pretty sure," Heather supplied, drawing Jake's attention. "I had - I had Jodie in class two years ago." She was clearly stunned by the news, and instinctively pressed both hands to her belly so that they were splayed protectively over the child she carried. Jake half stood, moving so he could give her a quick hug over the back of her folding chair before returning to his post against the wall.
Gray tried speaking over the din. "Now, I - I can't say that I knew just how bad off we were last week," he began, offering a grim smile. His gaze locked with Johnston Green's just long enough for Gray to see the censure in his predecessor's eye. "But, I'm - well, I'm - I'm sure," he stammered out, unnerved by the other man's piercing gaze. Gray cleared his throat and began again. "I'm sure that working together, we can - " The noise level continued to rise, and he broke off, scowling at the gathered citizenry. "All right, everyone!" Gray tried to shout over the crowd. "Let's start by talkin' about where we are," he yelled.
"Ridley, help me out here," Gray prompted the younger man, who immediately jumped up from his seat. The two men worked together to flip over a large chalkboard, revealing a table which detailed the status of each of Jericho's priority resources of food, fuel and medicine. The only item anyone could take comfort from was the notation that their supply of salt was unlimited; otherwise the situation was desperate to say the least. The crowd was immediately excited again, and Gray was once more forced to try and shout them down. "Everyone! Everyone, please!" the mayor bellowed, "Please!"
"Right now," he began ten seconds later after things had quieted down to a dull roar, "We're using the generator to power the town hall for three hours a day, the med center for six. And this is how much fuel we have," Gray declared, pointing at the figures written out on the board.
Jake, at the back of the room, squinted along with everyone else to read them, his heart plummeting into his stomach. 'Gasoline, 200 gallons, 14 days,' the chart cataloged. 'Diesel, 100 gallons, 7 days. Biodiesel, 8 gallons.' Jake glanced at Heather, recognizing her defensive posture from behind. Her team had had some early success manufacturing biodiesel and it was surprising to see that there was only eight gallons left. There were notations for heating oil and coal as well, and also the rather hopeful note that the supply of lumber was 'unlimited', though Jake wasn't sure of that. The trees in town served a vital purpose as a windbreak, actually sheltering buildings, and fighting the cold in the winter, the heat in the summer. Out on the farmland, trees prevented soil erosion, protecting crops as well. The nearest substantial stand of forest outside of Jericho and the nearby farms and ranches was around Bass Lake, more than fifteen miles from town. But, without gas, how were they ever going to access and utilize that resource?
"And, this is how much fuel we need to get through the winter," Gray continued, crossing to the other end of the board to point at two numbers written in bright red chalk. '1000 GAL. 200 GAL.' Nowhere near enough. "At the current levels of consumption, we will be completely out of gas and diesel in two weeks," he concluded, turning to face the assembly, his expression sour.
"Wonder when the dancing girls show up," Johnston grumbled, earning himself a quick elbow in the side from his wife and an appreciative, if worried, smile from his daughter-in-law.
"Stop," Gail demanded, not bothering to look at Johnston as she gave him another jab for good measure.
"There's a way of doin' it without scarin' the crap out of people," he complained, undeterred.
"Yeah," Heather muttered in agreement. Biting her lip, she sat forward an inch or so in her seat so she could study the numbers on the chalkboard.
"He was elected," Gail reminded, sighing. "He's going to do it his way."
Johnston groaned. "I'm gonna need a hobby."
"Well, we need a crib," Heather reminded, looking over at him. "A crib or at least a cradle," she suggested quietly, rubbing her hand in circles on her abdomen, "If you're lookin' for a commission."
"I suppose I could commit to two cradles," he replied, flashing an aggravated grin. EJ Green had always enjoyed woodwork, and he'd managed to pass some skill onto Johnston, who had a fairly complete workshop set up in the garage. "Provided our mayor doesn't manage to confiscate all the wood in town for burnin' before I can get started," Johnston muttered, crossing his arms over his chest.
"All right, this is what we're working on," Gray announced, clapping his hands together and stepping in front of the chalkboard, inadvertently blocking the list of provisions from sight. "We've organized firewood crews and hunting parties," he explained. Jake, looking around the room, noticed that most of those in attendance were nodding; after all, these were the people who made up those crews. "Especially with fifty-three new people among us," Gray continued, glaring in the general direction of the Greens. Jake held the mayor's gaze until Gray gave up, looking away. He knew Gray was still smarting over the fact that no one had involved him in the decision to take in Roger's band of refugees, and that instead Eric had presented the situation to him as a fait accompli the morning after. "We have to start rethinking things," the mayor grumbled. "Fast. Or the people we lost last night won't be the only casualties of this coming winter," he warned.
"What about the windmills?" Heather asked, standing up.
Jake looked up, surprised by her question. Heather was still working with the technical solutions team, though Harry Carmichael had been put in charge, displacing her. She didn't particularly care for working under the 'Anderson Regime' as she called it, but had put aside her dislike for Gray in order to do her part for the greater good. Still, Jake hadn't expected her to confront the mayor directly. "She's right," he said, taking a step away from the back wall. There were a few titters around the room, and Gray rolled his eyes. "And, not just because I'm married to her," he added, drawing outright laughter from the crowd.
"Thank you," Heather acknowledged with a quick glance back over her shoulder at him. "And not just because I'm married to you," she grinned before turning back around to face the mayor. "Wind power," Heather declared, her tone instantly serious. A number of people murmured their support. "We should be building windmills," she insisted. "We've been looking at doing so, and we need to keep at it."
"And that's the problem, isn't it?" Gray retorted. "Looking didn't get you anywhere. Harry," he called out, motioning at the other man. "I think you all know Harry Carmichael, our chief engineer down at the mine," Gray reminded the crowd. "Harry's also headin' up our technical solutions team now. Harry," he instructed, crossing his arms over his chest, "Why don't you tell us about windmills."
"Uhh," Carmichael began, getting up from his chair, "We've been looking into wind turbines for weeks now, under - well, under Heather Green's leadership," he admitted, "And under Mayor Green's, of course. But in order to build anything that can be connected to the grid, it's going to take time."
"Time I'm not sure we can afford," Gray interjected, looking between Johnston and Heather.
"We need parts we don't have," Carmichael explained. "We've tried, done the best - better than - we could expect, but we simply don't have the machining capabilities."
"What kind of parts?" Jake questioned. He knew a lot about the team's successes and failures just from listening to Heather, but she was convinced they could make windmills work, that they had to make them work, and he hadn't realized that Carmichael had given up. "I mean, this is a no-brainer," Jake argued, moving to stand behind his father's chair, as close as he could get to standing with Heather. "It's Kansas. We've got a lotta wind," he reminded, and once again the room was filled with soft, appreciative laughter.
"Well, we got a lotta hot air 'round here, anyway," somebody shouted.
"Practically an unlimited supply," Jake added with a nod at Gray's chalkboard. "Wind, I mean," he clarified, his lips twitching. He cleared his throat, insisting, "We need to make it work for us. So what're the parts?"
"Mechanical governors to regulate output," Carmichael answered, and Heather nodded in agreement. "We've been beating our heads against that problem since day one," he admitted, flashing Heather a sympathetic smile. "With the EMP damage, we're figuring a lot of this out from scratch. We could keep at it," Carmichael shrugged, "But it's still a long way off."
"Black Jack fairgrounds," Roger Hammond announced then, drawing all eyes to him. He was sitting with Emily four rows ahead of the Greens and, after a haircut, a shave, and a change of clothes he was once again looking very much like the regional bank vice president who'd pursued Emily relentlessly after her aunt, the head teller at Jericho's branch of the Kansas Liberty Bank, had introduced them. "We walked through it on our way here," he explained, glancing over his suddenly rapt audience. "It's become a trading post. People all over the region are trading food and information. Machine parts," Roger emphasized, looking back at Heather. "They may have what we need."
"That's got to be a two hundred mile drive," Gray argued, frowning. "That's a lot of gas for a maybe."
"But if we can get one windmill working, we'd save that much in gas in a month," Heather countered, "And if we get enough of them, we could be off gas for good."
"We wanna get through this winter, we've gotta stop pouring all our gas and diesel into generators," Jake added, resting one hand on Heather's shoulder. She glanced back at him, smiling appreciatively as she reached up to lay her hand over his.
Gray stared at the couple for a long moment, considering his options. He was smart enough to realize that the crowd was with the Greens, which meant he didn't have many. "Then it might not be a bad idea to put a small party together to check it out," he conceded with a shrug before asking, "Is anyone interested in volunteering?" All eyes turned toward the back of the room, toward Jake. "So," Gray inquired after a few seconds of dead silence, a smirk creeping onto his face, "How 'bout you, Jake?"
* * * * *
The meeting was effectively brought to a halt by the decision to send a party to Black Jack and Jake's somewhat reluctant agreement to lead that party. He'd started to beg off, but Heather had squeezed his hand, murmuring so that only he and possibly his father and her brother could hear, "You should do it." With that, the decision was made, and Gray had adjourned the meeting.
"Jake, stick around for a moment," the mayor demanded when he and Heather started to follow the rest of their family out. Gail and Johnston continued on their way, but Michael and Jeff hung back, taking seats in the second row while Heather moved with Jake to the front of the room. "Uh, you too," Gray called after Roger and Emily. "You're the expert on Black Jack, so tell us what we need to know."
"I'm not an expert," Roger argued, turning around. "I walked through the place. But I guess I know a few things," he muttered.
Bill Kilroy was dispatched to find a map of Nebraska and Kansas, returning a few minutes later. Gray dismissed him - much to his annoyance - and, spreading the map out on the table, began quizzing Roger about the best - and shortest - route from Jericho to Black Jack.
"We got wind of some raiding parties at the interchanges here, and here," Roger explained, pointing out two places along the highway near the state line that they would need to look out for. "But if you're careful, you should be safe the rest of the way," he assured, looking up at Jake.
"You sure you don't want to come along?" Jake asked, though he was fairly certain of the other man's answer.
"Think I'm gonna stick close to home for awhile," Roger replied, glancing sideways at Emily. He squeezed her hand. "But Jake, once you're at Black Jack, watch your back," he warned.
"Thieves?" Gray inquired, frowning.
"It's not the thieves you have to worry about," Roger grumbled, "It's the guards. They've got a reputation for being really ruthless. Without the cops or the National Guard, it's the only way to guarantee it's safe enough to keep commerce going there," he shrugged.
Gray looked at Jake. "You better take two or three of the border patrol guys with you," he suggested, "Just in case you run into any surprises."
Jake wasn't too sure he had a competent enough of a rotation yet to allow him to pull even one man off for a day or two without leaving Jericho vulnerable, but he nodded anyway. "Yeah, I'll figure it out," he answered.
"Well," Heather began, laying one hand on Jake's arm and the other over the mound of their child, "I'm coming too."
Everyone stared at her in shock, and for about three seconds, before Jake found his voice, you could have heard a pin drop in the town council room. "Not a chance in hell," he barked, spinning around to gape at his wife, dislodging her hand in the process. "Are you crazy?" he demanded, shaking his head. "Uh-uh."
"Jake -"
"No. No way," he denied, taking her by the arm and pulling her a few steps away. "Heather, you're pregnant," Jake reminded, whispering urgently and - somehow - forcing himself not to yell. "There's no way you're goin' anywhere where we have to worry about the guards bashin' heads in to keep commerce flowing."
"What does being pregnant have to do with anything?" she demanded, hands on her hips. "In fact, I'd think that being pregnant, I'd have less reason to worry about getting my head bashed in," Heather argued, eliciting a disbelieving snort from Jake.
"Heather -"
"That's not - that's really not how Black Jack works," Roger interjected, dropping Emily's hand and stepping around Gray. He stopped about two feet away from Heather and Jake, facing them with a tight frown. "I - I sure as hell wouldn't take any woman there, not again," he muttered. "And, definitely not my pregnant wife," Roger added, catching Jake's eye. "It's not - it's not the kinda place where people give up their seats - if they had 'em - or their place in line to you because you're - you're pregnant."
"See?" Jake challenged, looking down at Heather. He grasped her hand tightly in his own, shaking his head at her again. "You're not going. No way in hell."
They stared at one another for a long moment, Heather worrying her lip as she considered the situation. "It's not like I'm dying to go," she complained, glancing over at Roger for a second. "And I agree that it doesn't sound like a fun place to visit, but I'll be with you, right, so I'll be fine," Heather argued. She attempted a smile, but when Jake's scowl deepened, it died on her lips. "Jake I have to," she insisted. "I mean, would you know a working mechanical governor for a wind turbine if you saw one?" Heather demanded, letting out a frustrated sigh.
"Yes," Jake claimed, his jaw clenching. "No. I mean - I mean, I could figure it out," he clarified quickly. "And, no, you're not coming. I'm -"
"Somebody has to go along who knows what to look for," Heather interrupted, pulling her hand from Jake's grasp. "Whether you like it or not, you need me."
"Uh-uh," he grumbled, "No. Harry can come, or any of the other engineers," Jake decided, crossing his arms over his chest. "But you're not coming, Heather. You're not."
"It's not a good idea, sis," Michael argued, getting up from his seat and moving to stand between Heather and Roger, perpendicular to them both. "It's better that you stay here," he continued, and Jeff, joining him, nodded in silent but emphatic agreement. "Just trust me on that."
"I appreciate that you're all trying to protect me -"
"Heather, Black Jack is not a nice place," Roger interrupted. "Look," he muttered, frowning, "They've got what they call a 'Women's Health Clinic'," he told her, shuffling nervously on his feet. "But really, they only perform one procedure there. One I don't think you're interested in, okay?" Roger's chuckle was humorless, and his gaze fell on the swell of her abdomen, underscoring his point.
"Abortion," Emily whispered, saying out loud the word that was reverberating in all their minds. She moved next to Roger, laying her hand on his arm, which he immediately wrapped around her waist, pulling her against him.
"That doesn't - I can't - you're serious?" Heather reacted, her mind a jumble of thoughts. Eyes wide, she stared at Roger, both hands pressed over her belly. "You're not just trying to scare me into staying here, are you?" Heather half-accused, tensing when Jake stepped behind her, brushing his fingertips over her shoulders.
Roger shook his head. "Unfortunately, no," he answered, frowning uncomfortably. "It's a pretty popular service. There's a - a brothel, too, so there's probably some - some synergy there," he added, his tone subdued.
"He's not lying, Heth," Michael grimaced. "That's the way things are now, in a lotta places. People don't want one more mouth to feed, I guess."
"God that's awful," Emily muttered, resting her head on Roger's shoulder.
"Yeah, well. That's what the world's coming to," Jeff said, allowing a harsh chuckle. He looked at Heather, his expression softening some. "Just be glad you live here," he advised. "You see, we - uh, we were in Indiana, a few weeks back. Pretty rural area. We stopped for the night - we were still traveling during the day some, then - and were camping in this field, a little off the road -"
"Jeff," Michael rebuked, interrupting his friend. He grabbed the other man's arm, pulling him a foot or two back from the group. "Don't - You don't need to tell them about that," he insisted, his voice a harsh whisper.
"Sorry," Jeff grumbled, wrenching his arm from Michael's grasp. "But it might help. And, she needs to know -" He turned to face Heather. "Look," he continued, "This is not a happy story, and I won't tell you if you don't want me to, but -"
"It's okay," Heather nodded, letting Jake draw her back against his chest.
"Well, okay," Jeff acknowledged, glancing at Michael who glared in return, shaking his head angrily. "We - we camped in this field, and woke up the next morning to a rather irate farmer. He didn't shoot us - amazingly - but you could tell he wanted to. Only he needed some work done, and we ended up working out a deal. We needed gas," he explained.
"It turned out he was married, three kids, plus his wife was pregnant," Jeff said softly, letting out a long breath. "Her name was Beth. She was - she was relieved when she found out we were medical students, and that Mike had actually delivered a baby once," he said, forcing a grin as he looked sideways at his friend again.
Still scowling, Michael shrugged. "I'm an EMT," he explained for the others' benefit. "Got called to the mall to transport a woman in labor, but the baby wanted out. Middle of Sears, summer before last."
"Beth went into labor, five, six days after we got there?" Jeff guessed, looking at Michael for confirmation. "Four hours of labor. We all took turns helping her walk, holding her hand, hanging out with the kids downstairs. They were pretty antsy. I - I delivered the baby. She was good size," Jeff told them, his gaze unfocused. They knew he was replaying the scene is his mind. "I handed - I gave her to Drake, to clean her up, so I could deliver the afterbirth. Drake asked Beth if she wanted to see the baby and Tom said no. He took the baby away - away from Drake and left the room. We - we didn't know what he was - what he was doing."
"I was downstairs with the kids," Michael muttered, letting out a resigned breath. "We'd heard the baby, and they were - they were excited, arguing about whether it was a baby brother or sister. Tom came down then, and he had the baby clutched to his chest. We could hear her. But - but only, he told us that the baby was dead and walked out the door."
"Drake and I didn't know what was goin' on," Jeff grimaced. "Beth started to cry, and we asked what was wrong - I was trying to find something that was physically wrong," he laughed scornfully, shaking his head. "She was hysterical and I couldn't understand what she was saying, but Drake did. He ran after Tom, but -"
"Oh, God!" Heather exclaimed, pushing away from Jake, one hand over her mouth, the other pressed to her middle. She rushed from the room.
Jake started after her, but Emily stepped into his path, grabbing the sleeve of his jacket. "Outta the way, Em," he barked, trying to shove past her, but she clamped her hand down on his arm.
"Stop, Jake," she ordered, standing her ground. "Just stop. I'll go," Emily told him, repeating herself. "I'll go."
"No!" he protested, taking a step sideways, but she anticipated him, blocking his path again.
"Look," Emily argued, "She's already made it to the ladies room, hopefully, and I can hold back her hair and get her a wet towel, just like you. Plus I'm allowed to be in there. It'll be okay," she promised, squeezing his arm before turning around and hurrying out into the hall.
"So - so he just killed his kid," Gray muttered, falling back - stunned - into a seat on the edge of the table. He took a deep breath, catching Jake's gaze. "That's - that's what it's like out there now," he declared, pointing a finger at a window that looked out on the town green. "People gettin' killed for a bottle of water," Gray ground out, "People - people murdering -" He stopped, shaking his head, his expression livid. "This is why -"
"It's not happening here, Gray," Jake argued, his arms crossed over his chest. "And we all gotta make sure it stays that way."
Roger threw Michael and Jeff a questioning look. "And, after all that, Farmer Tom just let you leave?"
"Woke us all up at two AM, not that we were really asleep," Jeff answered, frowning. "Had a shotgun with him. Asked us very politely to get the hell off his land," he shrugged. "So we did."
"You're lucky that he didn't kill you all in your sleep," Roger returned, letting out a long breath.
"I think - I think he just wanted to forget," Michael offered. "And he probably thought with us gone, he could."
Jeff shook his head, grimacing. "Angela's nine," he reminded his friend. "She knows her father did something. For that matter, Beth knows what he did."
"Yeah," Jake sighed. "And he knows what he did, too. That's not so easy to forget."
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Thursday, December 6, five years before the bombs
April pressed the doorbell twice, quickly, shaking out her umbrella and muttering, "C'mon, Heather," to herself. She was exhausted, and the steady, cold rain that had been falling all day hadn't helped her mood or the traffic between Rogue River and Jericho. April wanted nothing more than to go home and fall into bed, but she knew that she needed to take care of this first. "Heather, c'mon," she groaned, tapping her foot on the welcome mat. Letting out a frustrated breath, she tossed the umbrella down on the porch. The door opened - finally - just as she was reaching over to ring the bell again.
"Heather!" April exclaimed, taking a step back. She looked her friend over, taking in the sloppy sweats, the bare feet, the severe ponytail Heather had pulled her hair into. Planting her hands on her hips, April frowned, demanding, "What in the world is going on?" But Heather's only answer was to burst immediately into tears, taking April by surprise. "Oh, God. Heather," April murmured as she pushed her way into the house. Quickly, she shrugged out of her wet coat, pulling the younger woman into a hug. "What happened?" she clucked, leading Heather, still crying, into the living room and toward the couch. Letting out a deep sigh, April forced her friend to take a seat.
"Jake - Jake and I - we - we broke up," Heather sobbed out, hiccupping.
"Oh dear," April murmured, seating herself next to Heather. She wrapped an arm around her friend, pressing Heather's head down so that it rested on her shoulder. "I thought that maybe that's what happened," April admitted, "But why?"
"Be - be - because!" Heather managed to get out before she began to cry even harder.
Groaning softly, April nodded, though she knew that Heather couldn't see her. "Right," she muttered, adjusting the arm she had around Heather so that she could stroke the younger woman's hair, trying to offer her comfort. Heather started to sob harder, and April let her, occasionally patting her friend's back, knowing there wasn't much else she could do for Heather but sit with her, and wait.
"I'm sorry," Heather sniffled some minutes later, having finally cried herself out. She lifted herself up off April's shoulder, twisting in her seat. "I'm sorry that I lost it," she clarified, confessing, "But I hadn't said it, out loud, to anyone yet. That we broke up. And, I really miss him." Heather sank back into the sofa's squishy cushions, her hand pressed to her forehead. "Ow," she whimpered, rubbing one eye. "Crap. I gave myself a headache."
"I guess so," April smiled sympathetically, shaking her head at her friend. Heather's voice was scratchy and her face was blotchy and tear-streaked; she looked like she'd been put through the wringer. "And, I thought I had a bad day," she joked.
"What happened?" Heather asked, clearing her throat as she again tried to wipe the tears from her watery eyes.
"Really, it was just long," April shrugged. "Another twenty four hour shift, though at least I got some sleep last night. Plus, coming home, you'd think no one had ever driven in the rain before. And, oh! I got stopped not once, but twice, trying to leave Rogue River tonight, by trains," she complained, rolling her eyes. "The same train, actually, at two different railroad crossings. I recognized some of the graffiti on the box cars. Five minutes each time," she grumbled. "Totally frustrating. But that's not important," she decided, studying the other woman's woeful expression. "Heather," April continued a beat later, "You know I went with Gail and Gramps to his doctor's appointment today, right? And then we had lunch together? He -"
"Is he okay?" Heather demanded, interrupting. "There's nothing wrong, is there?"
"He's fine. It was an oncology follow-up," she explained, "And he really only needs to go once a year, but Gramps told Dr. Brunson that if it's all the same to him, he's got the money to pay for it, and he'd just as soon keep to an every six months schedule, so...." April trailed off, shaking her head at Heather. "Gramps is fine, trust me. Though he's just about ready to kill Jake."
The little bit of composure that Heather had managed to regain seemed to slip away at the sound of Jake's name. Her lower lip trembled. "Why? It's not his fault."
"What isn't his fault?" April prompted kindly. "Heather, none of us know what happened. Jake hasn't said anything to anybody. Of course, aside from Gramps, none of us have seen him since Sunday," she admitted, "He's pretty much hiding out at the ranch. Well, Eric and Stanley have both gone out there, but they didn't stay long, that's for sure. And, according to Gramps Jake's in a really foul mood, and you are suddenly 'She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named'," she sighed. "Plus, you're obviously miserable," April accused half-heartedly, slumping in her seat. "Why didn't you call me?"
Heather's now permanent frown deepened. "I didn't want to put you in an awkward position," she muttered. "He's your brother-in-law."
"He is," April agreed, "And, I love him. But you're my friend. I can at least offer you a shoulder to cry on. Besides, what makes you think I'd choose him over you?" she teased. "I'm telling you, Jake'll be lucky if Gramps doesn't shoot him before the week's out. Gramps actually told Gail that she needed to do something about her 'sorry ass' son before he either strangled him or dropped him off on her doorstep to deal with. And, remember, Gramps tries not to use 'strong language' in front of 'the fairer sex'," April grinned softly. "Only today he was so mad he didn't care."
"But Gramps shouldn't be mad at Jake," Heather argued. "It really wasn't his fault. God, I was just so stupid," she moaned, throwing her arm over her eyes. A moment later, though, she lifted it up, peeking sideways at April. "Is he really that bad, that -"
"That miserable?" April filled in for her. "I don't know, I haven't actually seen him," she reminded. "But from everything that Gramps and Eric and Stanley are saying, he's worse than you. You know, all last summer, Jake was pretty much a pain in the ass, with the occasional good moment to remind us all why he wasn't drowned at birth," April explained, allowing a frustrated laugh. She reached for Heather's hand, squeezing it quickly. "Then he met you. But now, it sounds like he's pretty much reverted to ogre Jake, happily biting off the head of anyone who makes the unforgiveable mistake of saying hello."
"Oh no," Heather muttered, hiding behind her arm again.
April turned in her seat, studying her friend for a long moment. "This may be a stupid question," she began, "But you do know that you can un-break up, right?" Heather raised her arm and then struggled to sit up. Her expression was hopeful. "Heather," April chuckled, "If you're both miserable - which you are - and you don't want to be broken up - which I don't think either of you do - you don't have to stay miserable and broken up!"
Hope and doubt warred in Heather's expression as she considered April's words. "I - I don't know," she argued, finding a throw pillow and hugging it to her chest. She rested her chin on the pillow, deciding glumly, "It's just not that easy."
'It's not that easy? Why not?" April asked. She glanced sideways at her friend, offering a gentle smile. "I mean, you had a fight, right? Every couple does, eventually. It doesn't mean you're over." She let out a quiet sigh. "What was the fight about?"
Heather groaned, shaking her head. "It was so stupid," she blushed. "I - I got mad at him over the stupid Christmas party," she admitted, burying her face against the throw pillow. "And he got mad back," Heather mumbled, barely audibly, into the fabric. "And, it was just all so stupid."
"The Christmas party? At Jake's work?" April guessed.
"That's the one," Heather agreed, raising her head to meet April's gaze with one truly pitiful look. "I said -" She cut herself off, making an inarticulate noise in the back of her throat. "I said a lot of things - I can't even remember it all. And he said things, and it all got blown out of proportion. But he still should have told me," Heather complained, chewing her lip.
"About the party at work? Jake didn't tell you about the party at work? That's what you're saying, right?" April inquired, fighting a smile. Heather frowned at her, and April apologized. "I'm sorry. Really. But honestly, I was shocked to hear that Jake was going with you to the elementary school staff party," she admitted, making a face. "He's not really an office party kinda guy, ya know?"
"I know," Heather nodded, tossing the throw pillow away and slumping again in her seat. "I do! But on Sunday, all I could think was that he was embarrassed to introduce me to the people he works with, his boss."
April laughed outright at that. "I think that Jake Green is many things when it comes to you," she declared a moment later, still chuckling, "But embarrassed is not on the list. Heather," she reminded, the smallest hint of exasperation bleeding into her tone, "He was fine going to your party, he just didn't want to go to his." She waited a beat and then added, "And that had absolutely nothing to do with how he feels about you."
"Oh God," Heather groaned, sitting up. She reached over to retrieve the pillow she'd flung aside and, throwing herself back against the sofa, plopped it down over her face. "I told you it was stupid," she whimpered. "This is a disaster."
"It's not that bad," April argued laughing again. She reached over and stole the pillow Heather was hiding behind. "This is perfectly recoverable. 'I'm sorry and I love you,' is probably all you have to say," April suggested with a sympathetic grin. "It's all true, right?" she asked, and blushing, Heather nodded. "So tell him that. The whole town will owe you a debt of gratitude," April joked, patting Heather on the knee. "Now, c'mon," she insisted, starting to get up.
"What?" Heather questioned as April held out her hand. "What are we doing?" she asked, reluctantly allowing April to pull her up from her place on the couch.
"No time like the present," April declared, tucking her arm through Heather's and leading her around the coffee table. "But you can't go see Jake lookin' like that," she fussed. "The pity factor's one thing, but you, my friend, are beyond pathetic. So we're gonna brush your hair, wash your face, put on some lipstick and lose the sweats."
Heather stopped short, trying to pull away from April, but the other woman clamped onto her hand, refusing to let go. "I can't - I can't go see him now," she whined. "I - what if - I have to teach tomorrow," she argued. "And - and it's raining. I can't."
"Oh, yes you can," April countered, "And you're gonna. There's always going to be a reason not to. You have to teach, and then you've got play rehearsal, and after that I don't know what else. But this is like ripping off a band-aid. You gotta do it quick," she advised. "Now c'mon," she demanded, dragging Heather down the hall toward the bathroom. "You're doing this. And you're gonna thank me later."
"But what if we don't make up? What if - what if this just makes it worse?" Heather protested as April forced her into the bathroom.
"It can't possibly get any worse," April grumbled. She turned Heather around and stepped behind her, dropping her hands on the younger woman's shoulders, making her face her reflection in the mirror. "Look at you," she sighed, her expression sympathetic. "What those Green boys do to us. I think I can officially welcome you to the 'It Ain't Easy Bein' Green' club."
Frowning, Heather shook her head at her reflection. "The 'It Ain't Easy Bein' Green' club? Did you just make that up? Stealing your material from Kermit the Frog now?" she giggled softly, wiping one eye and then the other. "God, I look awful."
"Actually, I did just make that up, thank you, Kermit," April admitted, chuckling along with Heather. "And, you and me, we're the founding members," she decided, turning to pull a washcloth out of the linen cabinet. She turned on the tap and waited for the water to warm up before soaking the cloth in it. "It's not always easy being a member of this family, but it is always worth it," April said, wringing out the cloth and handing it to Heather.
"I'm not a member of the Green family," Heather reminded as she scrubbed her face.
"Eh, not yet but close enough," April returned. "Besides, I can't have a super secret club all by myself, so you're in. Now let's see."
Heather dropped the washcloth on the counter and, taking a deep breath, turned to face April. "Better?"
"Better," she agreed, handing Heather her hairbrush. "Lose the ponytail. Jake likes to play with your hair. Now," April continued, laughing gently at her friend's instantaneous blush, "Let's go find you something to wear." Wrapping her arm around Heather's shoulders, she steered the other woman out of the bathroom and down the hall to her bedroom. "So, what to wear," April murmured, mostly to herself, leaving Heather to finish brushing out her hair while she searched the closet.
Ten minutes and a lot of negotiating later, Heather was dressed in jeans that were neither too baggy (April's concern) nor too tight (Heather's complaint) and a fresh and slightly less voluminous sweatshirt. Her hair was combed and loose around her shoulders - as ordered - and April had given in, allowing her to apply lip gloss instead of lipstick once Heather had explained, turning red, that Jake liked the cinnamon flavor. "By all means then," April had grinned, pointing her friend out the door.
"Now I don't wanna have to follow you out there," April threatened, her expression stern, as she opened her umbrella, following Heather down the porch steps. The rain was only a drizzle now, but it was a cold drizzle, one she didn't want to be caught in. "I've had all of three hours of sleep in the last two days, but I will if I have to."
"I'm going," Heather muttered, resting the shaft of her own umbrella against her shoulder. She twirled it nervously, frowning as she met her friend's gaze. "I've come this far, so I might as well, right?"
"Exactly," April yawned, covering her mouth. "And," she continued, fishing her cell phone out of her purse with her free hand. "For a little extra insurance...." She paused, peering closely at the display while she scrolled through her phone book. She grinned at Heather while she waited for the call to ring through. "Gramps, hello!" April greeted warmly. "I'm calling to let you know that Heather is on her way out to talk to Jake. And if she doesn't arrive within a half hour, call me," she ordered, "So I can kill her."
"Good luck," April declared, after she was off the phone. She hugged Heather quickly and then steered her toward her car. "Just start with: 'I'm sorry and I love you,'" she reminded. "It'll work wonders."
Nodding, Heather slipped into the driver's seat of her car. "Okay."
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Monday, December 4, two and a half months after the bombs
Heather had already retched up the entirety of her meager breakfast - a half cup of rice with milk and cinnamon - and was vomiting stomach bile when someone else came into the restroom. She didn't know who was there, didn't care, didn't bother looking back over her shoulder as she gripped the sides of the toilet, tears streaming down her face, while the nausea rolled through her in waves. Continuing to cough and spit, Heather listened to the sound of water running in the sink and then approaching footsteps.
"Here." The voice was Emily Sullivan's, and when Heather glanced sideways she saw a hand - Emily's hand - holding out a wet, folded paper towel.
"Thanks," Heather managed to get out, her voice shaking. "I - God," she muttered, shifting back so that she was kneeling a few inches from the toilet bowl. She pressed the damp towel to her forehead first and then her cheeks. "It's just -"
"Horrifying? Unbelievable? Scary?" Emily guessed, squatting behind Heather, her hand on the other woman's back. "So, you think you're okay now?"
Groaning, Heather shook her head 'no' though she answered, "I'll - I'll be fine." She unfolded the paper towel once, running it over her face and neck before letting out a long, deep breath. "I just - I can't believe someone could do that to their own child," she muttered. Her free hand found its way to her abdomen and she rubbed gentle circles over her baby. "To - to any child," Heather croaked out.
"Yeah," Emily acknowledged quietly. She stood up, stepping back and leaning against the open stall door, fidgeting with her hands. "So, I'll get you another towel," she offered a few awkward seconds later, turning away without waiting for Heather's response.
"Thank you," Heather murmured, pressing the already warm towel in her hand to the back of her neck. For a moment, she thought she was okay, and she sank back on her heels, but in the next instance her stomach heaved again, and Heather lunged for toilet.
"Uhhh," Emily complained as she hovered in the stall door. "I told Jake I could do this, but I have to admit I've never been good with people getting sick. I hear it, and it makes me want to throw up, too," she admitted. "I don't know how you stand it."
Heather turned around slowly, falling so that she was sitting on the cold tile floor. She faced Emily with a bleary gaze and held out her hand until it finally occurred to the other woman to take a half step forward and hand over the saturated wad of paper toweling. "I haven't been sick in weeks," Heather explained dully, blotting her lips. Her mouth tasted wretched, and for a moment she actually sucked on the paper towel, desperate for water but unwilling to admit it to Emily. "Besides, being sick for a little while, that's a small price to pay for what you get," she decided, looking down at what had once been her lap. "It was just that story, that poor woman," she sighed, shaking her head. "I can't imagine how she must've felt."
"Unimaginable," Emily agreed, crossing her arms over her chest and hugging herself.
"Jake - Jake asked you to come after me?" Heather asked next, her forehead wrinkling as she pressed the paper towel to her overheated cheek.
"He was coming after you himself," Emily replied, frowning as she studied the woman sprawled at her feet. "But I made him let me instead. Ladies room and all," she added, as if that explained everything.
"Okay," Heather nodded, allowing her eyes to fall closed, though they popped open immediately when Emily asked her next question.
"You don't like me, do you?"
"I - I don't hate you, Emily," Heather hedged, looking down at her hands. She twisted the paper towel around two fingers, wringing it, though there was no excess moisture to be won.
"But you don't like me," the other woman persisted. "We're not friends."
Heather struggled to get up then, at first trying to push herself up from the floor using just her hands before giving in and using the toilet to lift herself up. She was already standing, wiping her hands on her jeans when it seemed to occur to Emily to offer a hand. Heather shook her head. "No, Emily," she confirmed, exhaling softly, "I don't think we're friends." The other woman frowned at that and Heather was annoyed to catch herself apologizing. "I'm sorry."
"I - I like you, Heather, I really do," Emily argued with a shrug. "When I first met you, I thought we could be friends. I wanted to be your friend. I'd still like to be your friend."
The two women watched one another. Emily's expression - concerned and just the slightest bit disappointed - seemed carefully crafted to disarm, and Heather had to admit to herself that at another, earlier time she might have been taken in by it. But now, they had too much history and Heather was completely out of patience. The world was falling apart, she thought, shaking her head softly, and still Emily Sullivan could manage - somehow - to make it all about her. It would have been impressive if it hadn't been so aggravating.
"Excuse me," Heather muttered, stepping toward Emily, who hesitated for just a second before moving out of the way to let her pass. She walked to the sink and turned on the tap for hot water out of habit before plunging her hands into the freezing cold stream of water. "I - I don't know what to tell you, Emily," Heather said, catching the other woman's eye in the mirror. Pumping the soap dispenser, she was relieved to find that it still held soap - smelly, goopy, hot pink, industrial grade soap, but soap nonetheless. "I just don't think it was meant to be," Heather decided, scrubbing her hands.
Emily huffed out a breath at that, her reflection gaping at Heather in the mirror. Bending slightly toward the sink, Heather made a cup of her hands so she could wash her mouth out. Swishing, she let herself consider what would have happened if she'd listened to Emily when she'd tried to warn her off of becoming involved with Jake all those years ago. Spitting out her mouthful of water, Heather dipped her head, scooping more in as she thought about who she would be, what her life would be like if she hadn't trusted her instincts and trusted Jake. She would have been alone in Jericho, without even her position as the third grade teacher to keep her going, now that there wasn't a school. She would have had friends - Emily, apparently - but not Jake, not their family, not the baby - the sense of hope - she carried within her. But would friends have remembered her, worried about her, taken care of her the way her family had and did?
Shaking her head, Heather forced the idea of being without Jake from her thoughts. It wasn't even worth contemplating, she decided, spitting into the sink again. The awful taste in her mouth was mostly gone and she took a deep breath before leaning closer, letting the water pool in her hands so she could drink. Her thoughts returned immediately to Beth, the faceless woman of Jeff's story, whom Heather knew she would never forget. "Do you think - do you think she knew what her husband was going to do?" Heather asked as she straightened, wiping water from her chin. "That he was going to kill their baby?"
"It's not like you have to worry about that happening to you," Emily said, her tone and expression a mixture of confusion and annoyance. "Jake's not gonna -"
"I know that," Heather interrupted, exasperated. "You can't possibly think I'd ever worry about Jake -" She broke off, frowning and glaring at Emily. For a moment Heather let herself be irritated that Emily would actually presume to tell her anything about her own husband, that she would still, after all this time, act as if she knew Jake better. But acknowledging Emily's challenge would just serve to validate, if only a little bit, her ridiculous assumptions.
Heather squared her shoulders, facing the other woman with a hard stare. "It's just - just haunting to think about something like that happening out in the world. God," she groaned, pressing one still damp hand to her forehead. "I need to go. Excuse me," she muttered, stepping around Emily.
* * * * *
Johnston was waiting for Jake when he exited the town council chambers. "Always gotta be the first one to jump into the fire, don't you?" he drawled, offering his son a half-hearted frown.
"Somebody's got to go," Jake answered distractedly as he looked around, trying to find his wife. From the start it had felt like a mistake to let Emily go after Heather, and he'd tried to get away from Gray and Roger as quickly as possible, but the mayor had drawn them into a discussion of the value of salt and how much they would need to trade for a mechanical governor. Jake was glad that Gray was willing to give him something to barter with, but the discussion had taken twice as long as it should have.
"Well, it just seems like that someone's always you," Johnston complained with a sigh.
Jake shrugged. "You might've noticed that I was kinda pushed into it," he reminded, looking back over his shoulder.
"Heather was rather quick to volunteer you," Johnston acknowledged. "Not that Gray and everyone else weren't happy to pile on."
"Yeah," Jake murmured, craning his neck, trying to see as far down the right-hand corridor off the foyer as far as he could. But she wasn't there, and he gave up, finally facing his father. "You haven't seen her have you? She ran out a coupl'a minutes ago. Got sick." He didn't elaborate, unable to bring himself to repeat either of the stories that had been shared in the council room.
"No, I just got back here a minute ago," Johnston admitted. "But she'll be okay," he muttered, as much to reassure himself as his son. "Probably went upstairs to get back to work," he suggested, gesturing toward the staircase behind him. "Kinda has to after forcin' Gray's hand on the whole windmill issue," Johnston added quietly, grinning at the thought. "Always has had spunk, that one."
"Right," Jake snorted, crossing his arms over his chest. He scowled, shaking his head. "She's real spunky today," he grumbled. "Says she's gonna come along," he said, throwing his father an annoyed look. "To Black Jack. Wants to pick out her own governor."
"Well, you can't let 'er do that," Johnston returned, his frown reappearing. "What in the world's she thinkin'?" he asked before deciding, "You're just gonna have to tell Heather she can't go."
"I already did tell her," Jake groused, running a nervous hand through his hair. "And, I'd lock her in the house, but she just laughs when I say that. Thinks I'm kidding, but this time I mean it," he proclaimed. Jake blew out a frustrated breath. "Well, if she's still insisting on going, I guess I just won't. I don't think she'd go without me," he muttered.
Johnston flashed his son a sympathetic look, agreeing, "Without you? Probably not, no. But," he chuckled gently, "Ya gotta love that spunk."
"Yeah," Jake groaned, allowing a reluctant grin. "Well, Mike's gonna talk to the rest of the team, see if anyone's willing to go along," he explained. "And, if none of them'll go he says he can study up - with Heather - and be ready to go in two days, maybe three."
"Good," Johnston nodded in approval. "Who else is going?"
"Gray thinks I should take a couple of guys from border patrol," Jake reported.
"That's it?" Johnston's expression betrayed his surprise. He could understand that fuel was an issue, but if they were going to invest the gas required to make the trip to Black Jack, he couldn't help thinking they should maximize their efforts.
"I'm not so sure pulling them off patrol just to watch my back is such a good idea," Jake sighed. "'Sides, only a handful of them even know what they're doing."
"And Harriett Crenshaw's liable to shoot you for messin' up her schedule," Johnston argued, snorting.
"She'd be right to," Jake admitted. "We're barely covering all shifts as it is, and now we've lost Carl Swensen. I'll have to figure somethin' out," he decided with a shake of his head.
"You don't think I can watch your back?" Johnston asked then, one eyebrow raised, catching his son's eye.
"What, you wanna go?" Jake returned, surprised.
Johnston heaved a deep sigh, lowering the pitch of his voice so that Jake had to concentrate to hear. "Look, you've already see what it's like out there," he reminded, gesturing at the main door into town hall with his hat. "I just need to see it for myself. Besides," he added, frowning, "I'm unemployed, I'm not obsolete."
Jake nodded. There was just no way to describe the world that now existed outside of Jericho to someone else. Jake could tell his father - he could tell Heather - but it wouldn't be real, in all its harsh, awful actuality, unless they each saw it for themselves. He really didn't want them to see the sort of things he'd seen in Rogue River, and he'd do everything in his power to protect his wife from that knowledge, but he couldn't justify keeping it from the man who'd raised him and who'd taught him how to ride, how to hunt, how to hide brussel sprouts in his napkin to throw away later. "Did you ask Mom?" Jake inquired finally.
"Son," Johnston replied, a hint of a drawl once again coloring his tone, "I'm fifty-nine years old. I was mayor of this town since the Carter administration. I'm a retired U.S. Army Ranger and a combat veteran. Of course I asked your mother."
"Okay," Jake agreed, not quite able to repress a knowing smirk. "I guess you're goin'."
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *