Fic: Road to Nowhere 9/?
Title: Road to Nowhere 9/?
Author: gatechic
Characters/Pairing: Garrett/Rebecca, Travis/Isabelle, Wyatt/Adora, a mean Zero, Glitch, and a bunch of other OCs.
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Pre-series. Zero, after imprisoning Wyatt Cain in the iron suit, arrests and splits up the Cain Clan. Now they must cope with life apart, in prison, and forced to work for the Sorceress and her Longcoats.
This chapter: Garrett and Mason's friendship grows as Garrett begins to teach Mason a few life lessons. Adora's flashback continues. Garrett presses Mason to tell him what happened in Central City during the Last Stand.
Word Count: 3,149
Disclaimer: Tin Man characters belong to the SciFi Channel, RHI, Steven Long Mitchell and Craig W. Van Sickle. But Travis, Isabelle and Garrett belong to me. I also borrow from L. Frank Baum, Gregory Maguire and Rachel R Cosgrove (Payes). This is purely for fun and I'm not making a penny off of this.
A/N: This is a WIP and full of OCs. Thanks to those of you who support original characters, this would not have happened without it. Thanks to my beta, erinm_4600. Cast page can be found here.
Chapter 1||Chapter 2||Chapter 3||Chapter 4||Chapter 5||Chapter 6||Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
The look on his face was horror, complete horror. Adora watched as he pulled his hands away and started rubbing them again. “Oh, gods, Wyatt…why didn’t you just leave when you had the chance?” she asked softly to herself. She doubted he would have heard her, anyway. Adora thought it best not to ask him any more questions about what happened, at least, for now.
“You figured out my clues, yeah?” she asked, giving him a proud grin.
His face partially lit up and he stopped the rubbing the blood that only he could see off his hands. “Yeah, I did,” he said to her with a half-smile. “Between the flower and the painting - I knew where to go. But, next time, avoid the Fields of the Papay,” he said, giving her a stern glance.
“Okay,” she answered, smiling, jovial that, for now, her Wyatt was back. “I have the box under the southwest corner of the house. Your fedora and duster are in another box under the northwest corner of the house.” Adora stood to her feet to pour him a cup of coffee.
He looked at her quizzically, trying to figure out what she was telling him by the clues she left him using the boxes. He took the cup in his hand and then smiled. “You were going to go west, then south, and then settle in…” his mind searched the area where she had intended to go to next. Then it came to him. There was a small town just inside Quadling Country, along the border with Munchkin Country. The area was known for its cotton and sheep farms. Textile mills were plentiful in the area. Adora and Jeb would certainly be able to find a job, since she knew how to use a loom and a spinning wheel and they would blend in well.
“You were going to Windynaze, weren’t you?”
When she nodded, he drank the coffee. Adora sat down on his lap and wrapped her arms around him. “I can get the boxes for you,” she offered.
“No, they’ll wait till morning. I need to hold you right now.”
Morning came, but not without problems. Wyatt had a fitful night. At times, he woke up shouting orders as if he was back in Central City. Another time, he woke up holding his hands out, shaking and mumbling something that sounded like, ‘he was just a kid, a cadet. He didn’t deserve that.’ Adora held him until he fell back to sleep, only to be awoken again by a nightmare. Adora did not get much sleep and she hoped, as time passed, he would have better nights.
When Wyatt appeared from the bedroom, wearing a white-blue striped shirt, his vest unbuttoned and those eye-catching tan pants, he seemed to have no memory of his nightmares. On the other hand, he may have just wanted to forget.
They ate a typical, large Quadling breakfast, well, with what Adora had. She cooked up as much as she could so they could take it on their journey to Windynaze. As she cleaned up, Adora glanced at Wyatt. He was just sitting, looking at nothing in particular.
She knew the look on his face; it was a look that said he had something on his mind. She glanced at Jeb and said, “Go get your things ready, Jeb, we’re leaving soon.” He grunted and stomped his feet as he walked towards his room. Jeb liked the little cabin by the lake. He had taken some bread, the day before, and pulled pieces off, tossing them into the water. He watched as the fish fought for every scrap of food.
She let out a sigh. “Wyatt, are you okay?”
He nodded. “Just thinking,” he said to her.
“About?”
“I’ve got things in my head that I need to work out,” he said, beginning to sound annoyed at Adora’s questioning.
“Like what?”
“Everything,” he said, shutting himself away from her, as he’d done so many times in the past.
“Don’t do this!” she said, placing her hands on her hips.
“Do what?” he responded quickly.
“Shut me out. This is what you do, Wyatt. Whenever things get bad, you don’t talk to me. You keep it all bottled up inside, saying, ‘I’ve got things in my head that I need to work out’,” she repeated his words by lowering her voice in an attempt to sound like him. His jaw clenched tight and eyes narrowed as he glared at her.
“Your problems are my problems, Wyatt. And I can’t help you if you don’t open up.” She turned to the sink and threw the towel down. Adora heard the chair move across the floor and creak in a sort of relieved sound as his weight lifted off it.
“If you hadn’t noticed, things are not going to be easy for us; I need to think things through. What I don’t need is you breathing down my neck, asking me if I’m okay every two minutes.” After pausing, he continued, breaking the tension that filled the air between them, “We need to get moving.”
Adora heard him walk away and slowly closed her eyes. She heard the door open and then close; he obviously went outside to retrieve the two boxes. When she opened her eyes, Adora saw them through the window.
“Oh gods. Wyatt! Jeb!” she hollered. Jeb came running towards her. “Mom?”
“Hide, baby, and don’t come out, you got me? Don’t come out,” she said, squeezing his arms.
“Mom, you’re hurting me,” Jeb said with pain on his face.
She released her grip, kissed his forehead and repeated her command, “Hide.” She started for the door when she heard a gunshot and a voice yell, “Stop right there, Cain!”
The memory faded as Adora wiped a tear away. “I’m sorry, Wyatt. I wish I could take back the things I said. I hope you know how much I love you,” she whispered. She felt a tug on her apron and when she opened her eyes, she looked down and saw Jeb staring up at her.
“He knows, mom,” Jeb answered. She nodded but still felt guilty that her last words to Wyatt had been out of stress and anger. Adora pulled the bucket back up and with Jeb’s help, brought water to the thirsty Longcoats.
~~~~
“You said you were in the university; what were you studying?” Garrett asked, intently watching the kid wrestle with putting his cot together.
“Medicine,” Mason answered while the cot collapsed on him - again. Clearly, he was becoming frustrated.
Garrett watched him with fascination. “Really? A doctor, huh?” He shook his head and then smirked at the young man’s predicament. “I reckon they don’t teach you how to put a cot together in the university, do they?”
Huffing heavily through his nose, Mason turned to face Garrett, “We have beds - proper beds - in the dorms. We don’t have cots. Cots are used for camping and army life - I don’t go camping, never have, never will! And I’m certainly not in the army. You see these hands?” He held his hands up in Garrett’s line of vision. “These hands have no calluses on them. You know why?” Garrett shook his head, looking at the young man’s hands. “It’s because I’m studying to be a surgeon, I need my hands, they are important. I was not about to risk losing a finger - or two - or to break my wrists doing hard, manual labor.” Garrett raised a brow and Mason’s brows arched. He was in trouble with the only man who could protect him. “Not that there’s anything wrong with hard manual labor,” Mason back-peddled.
Garrett nodded slightly as he muttered, “uh-huh.” Mason looked at him, apologetically. “Well, as I was saying, I’d probably end up needing steel rods put in them. If that happens, I won’t have the dexterity that I need to be a surgeon, see, wrists bend.” To illustrate his point, Mason moved his hand in a circular motion. Garrett eyed the moving hand closely with a smirk. He figured the kid might be exaggerating a bit, but he did have a good reason to be upset.
“Mason.”
“I had two more annuals to go, then an internship and, what do the Longcoats do?” Mason continued, ignoring Garrett.
“Mason.”
“They march into the city, shut down the university and then they burn our books. I mean-”
“Mason.” Garrett rolled his eyes when the young lad continued.
“How do they expect to live without doctors and surgeons? I suppose Shiz University is still open-”
“Mason!” Garrett said with a bite in his tone.
Mason paused with his mouth wide open.
“Look,” Garrett pushed around him and, with the help of a dowel rod, had the kid’s cot ready to go in under two minutes.
“Well, I would have figured it out, eventually.” When Garrett wasn't looking, Mason gave the cot a little kick. “Mister Cain,” Mason started, but Garrett put his hands up to cut him off.
“My father is Mister Cain, call me Garrett,” he said and then sat down on his cot, reaching for a deck of cards.
Mason nodded as he spoke, “Okay, Garrett, you said you would teach me how to fight.”
“I did, didn’t I?” Garrett leaned against the wall, shuffling the cards. “First,” he held up the cards, “let’s play some poker. You do know how to play right?”
“Well, no, I mean, I played in college, but-”
Garrett cut him off, “Good, then have a seat, kid.” He patted a spot on the cot. Mason, somewhat confused, sat down, watched him shuffle the deck and then passed some cards out. They played about a half-dozen games, with Garrett winning all of them.
Mason got frustrated and tossed the cards to the cot. “I thought you were going to teach me!” Mason said, angered. He stood up and paced while Garrett watched him. Mason finally stopped and looked at Garrett. “What?”
“You done?” Garrett asked, shuffling the cards.
“No!” Mason said, looking perplexed. “I was hoping that you would teach me how to fight instead of sitting around and playing poker. How is this supposed to help me?”
Garrett cocked his head to the side and smirked. “Do you know why you lost all the games?”
“What?” Mason asked, completely taken by surprise at Garrett’s question. “What does that have to do with fighting?”
“A lot of things, actually,” Garrett answered, slightly narrowing his eyes. “For instance, look at you, you’re all worked up. You can’t think straight when you’re stressed. Sit.” Garrett looked at Mason with a raised brow. “You want me to teach you or not?”
Mason glanced around and let out a sigh before sitting down. “Good,” Garrett said, responding to the kid sitting down. “Look, I won because I read your face.” He noticed the kid looked confused. “Ever hear of ‘poker-face’?” Mason nodded. “Well, your poker-face needs some work. You’re a college kid, you’re pretty smart, but smarts alone won’t keep you safe here. The key to facing someone down is not to show any emotion, at all. Just blinking could be the difference between walking away or being carried away. I was able to call your bluff, but you couldn’t call mine. Had you been able to notice when I was bluffing, you would have won half those games. I knew you were bluffing because you kept looking away from my eyes, you were sweating and you were fidgeting. I can teach you to fight, but I need to teach you how to bluff. Bullies only prey on the weak because they themselves are nothing but cowards. Longcoats and the convicts they brought in are nothing more than bullies and they know how to use fear as a tactic. If they sense your fear, they’ll attack. Stand up to them and they’ll respect you - mostly. Now, clear your mind. Think of nothing else. Breathe normally. Keep eye contact. Don’t show any emotion.” Garrett reached for the cards again and reshuffled them. “Now, let’s try this again and then we’ll work on you remaining calm and not getting anxious.”
Mason understood that Garrett had been testing him to see what his weaknesses were. He just didn’t realize it until now. That’s what happened with most bullies: they found your weakness and exploited it. In most cases, the weakness was fear.
“Can I ask you something?” Mason asked, sitting up straight and forward. He watched as Garrett nodded. “Was there ever a time when you were afraid? I mean, as a kid, growing up. Did you ever have trouble with bullies?”
Garrett stopped shuffling and his eyes searched Mason’s for a moment before they focused on Brent, who was just as interested in this conversation. “Oh yeah, there were times when I was afraid, even now. But, when I was around nine, these three boys were picking on my brother, Wyatt. I stepped in and told them to stop.” Garrett paused as the memory came back to him. He could see it in his mind, as if it happened yesterday. The smell of the field, the way the wind felt against his skin and the warmth of the suns.
“A few friends and I were playing kaskana in an open field. Wyatt was five annuals old at the time and he followed me wherever I went. I didn’t mind - at the time. Well, Wyatt was too small to play with us, so he would sit there and watch us older kids play. I saw these three boys from school pushing him around, so I went up to them and told them to stop picking on my brother. They were at least twelve or so.” Garrett paused again and looked down at his cards before continuing. “Well, one thing led to another and I was on my back with Doug - the biggest and meanest one - punching me.” Garrett snorted as he smiled. “See, the thing is, these boys had been picking on me for an annual. I was short for my age and I walked funny - kinda like a duck. They called me ‘duck-boy’ and stupid things like that. I grew up hating ducks,” he said with a fake smile and then it faded as he saw himself lying on the ground, bleeding and crying. His friends were too afraid to get involved, even though they had the three boys outnumbered. But not Wyatt.
“The next thing I know, Wyatt comes charging and flings himself at Doug with this growl that sounded like a bear. I’m supposed to protect him, right?” Garrett looked up at Mason, his eyes watery. “And there he was, protecting me. And he’s four annuals younger than me. Doug threw Wyatt off him like he was rag doll or something and I propped myself up on my elbows to see what was going on. Blood was dripping from a cut above my left eye and I could taste the blood in my mouth.” Garrett’s expression changed and his eyes narrowed. “I saw Doug get up to go after Wyatt and something inside of me snapped. I could feel the rage boiling from my gut. I got to my feet, clenched my fists, walked over to Henry and kicked him behind the knee. He fell to the ground, clutching his knee and rolled in the grass, crying in pain. Doug saw what I did and he came after me. That’s when I remembered everything my father taught me about taking a calf down. Doug was face-first on the ground and I had a grip in his hair as I pushed his face into the dirt. He was flopping like a fish out of water and I was yelling at him and, later, I couldn’t even remember what I was saying. My friends - including Wyatt - pulled me off him. Gary - Doug’s friend - pulled him up and Gary looked at me with these scared eyes, saying that I could have killed him. That’s not what I wanted to do. I just wanted him to stop teasing me and I wasn’t going to let him pick on Wyatt. Since that day on, I had a reputation and no one called me names again or bothered Wyatt. When Wyatt was older, we would fight bullies so that no one would go through what we did.”
Mason motioned towards the scar above Garrett’s left eyebrow. “Is that when you got that scar?”
Garrett nodded. “It was bigger when I was younger or maybe it just seemed that way. But that’s when I started to learn how to fight back and defend myself.”
“Did you get in trouble for almost killing the kid?” Brent asked from his cot.
“Oh yeah, a lot of trouble and counseling. Guess they wanted to make sure I wasn’t harboring homicidal tendencies.”
“How did other parents react?” Mason asked.
“They were concerned, but they knew I hadn’t showed that kind of behavior before. When they learned the truth about what happened and the names I was being called, they understood. It didn’t make it right, but they still let their kids play with me - after a while.” Garrett pursed his lips together and shrugged his shoulders.
“Sow a thought, and you reap an act; sow an act, and you reap a habit; sow a habit, and you reap a character; sow a character, and you reap a destiny.”
Garrett and Mason glanced at Brent. “It’s something my father used to say,” Brent said with a slight shrug of his shoulders.
“Yeah,” Garrett said sadly. Telling the story made him think of Wyatt and, suddenly, he felt guilty for all the mean things he used to do and say to Wyatt.
“It’s what brothers do,” Brent said, pulling Garrett from his thoughts of guilt. “Don’t feel guilty for teasing him. It helped shape your brother into the man he became.”
“How did you know what I was thinking?” Garrett asked. Mason was also curious and turned to face Brent.
“Us Winkies are mind-readers…” Garrett and Mason paused. “You talk about showing no emotion; I could see written all over your face,” Brent said and then the three men laughed.
Garrett sat back, his back resting against the wall. “You were there in Central City, what happened when it fell?” he asked Mason. He had to know the truth.
Mason’s smile faded and he began to pick lint from his pants. “Why do you want to know?”
Garrett paused, looking at Brent and then back to Mason. Seriousness played across his face and Mason saw that look earlier, when Garrett confronted the convicts. “Cause my brother, Wyatt, was a Tin Man…and he was there. And I need to know what happened.”
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
‘Reap a destiny’ quote is by Charles Reade.
Author: gatechic
Characters/Pairing: Garrett/Rebecca, Travis/Isabelle, Wyatt/Adora, a mean Zero, Glitch, and a bunch of other OCs.
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Pre-series. Zero, after imprisoning Wyatt Cain in the iron suit, arrests and splits up the Cain Clan. Now they must cope with life apart, in prison, and forced to work for the Sorceress and her Longcoats.
This chapter: Garrett and Mason's friendship grows as Garrett begins to teach Mason a few life lessons. Adora's flashback continues. Garrett presses Mason to tell him what happened in Central City during the Last Stand.
Word Count: 3,149
Disclaimer: Tin Man characters belong to the SciFi Channel, RHI, Steven Long Mitchell and Craig W. Van Sickle. But Travis, Isabelle and Garrett belong to me. I also borrow from L. Frank Baum, Gregory Maguire and Rachel R Cosgrove (Payes). This is purely for fun and I'm not making a penny off of this.
A/N: This is a WIP and full of OCs. Thanks to those of you who support original characters, this would not have happened without it. Thanks to my beta, erinm_4600. Cast page can be found here.
Chapter 1||Chapter 2||Chapter 3||Chapter 4||Chapter 5||Chapter 6||Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
The look on his face was horror, complete horror. Adora watched as he pulled his hands away and started rubbing them again. “Oh, gods, Wyatt…why didn’t you just leave when you had the chance?” she asked softly to herself. She doubted he would have heard her, anyway. Adora thought it best not to ask him any more questions about what happened, at least, for now.
“You figured out my clues, yeah?” she asked, giving him a proud grin.
His face partially lit up and he stopped the rubbing the blood that only he could see off his hands. “Yeah, I did,” he said to her with a half-smile. “Between the flower and the painting - I knew where to go. But, next time, avoid the Fields of the Papay,” he said, giving her a stern glance.
“Okay,” she answered, smiling, jovial that, for now, her Wyatt was back. “I have the box under the southwest corner of the house. Your fedora and duster are in another box under the northwest corner of the house.” Adora stood to her feet to pour him a cup of coffee.
He looked at her quizzically, trying to figure out what she was telling him by the clues she left him using the boxes. He took the cup in his hand and then smiled. “You were going to go west, then south, and then settle in…” his mind searched the area where she had intended to go to next. Then it came to him. There was a small town just inside Quadling Country, along the border with Munchkin Country. The area was known for its cotton and sheep farms. Textile mills were plentiful in the area. Adora and Jeb would certainly be able to find a job, since she knew how to use a loom and a spinning wheel and they would blend in well.
“You were going to Windynaze, weren’t you?”
When she nodded, he drank the coffee. Adora sat down on his lap and wrapped her arms around him. “I can get the boxes for you,” she offered.
“No, they’ll wait till morning. I need to hold you right now.”
Morning came, but not without problems. Wyatt had a fitful night. At times, he woke up shouting orders as if he was back in Central City. Another time, he woke up holding his hands out, shaking and mumbling something that sounded like, ‘he was just a kid, a cadet. He didn’t deserve that.’ Adora held him until he fell back to sleep, only to be awoken again by a nightmare. Adora did not get much sleep and she hoped, as time passed, he would have better nights.
When Wyatt appeared from the bedroom, wearing a white-blue striped shirt, his vest unbuttoned and those eye-catching tan pants, he seemed to have no memory of his nightmares. On the other hand, he may have just wanted to forget.
They ate a typical, large Quadling breakfast, well, with what Adora had. She cooked up as much as she could so they could take it on their journey to Windynaze. As she cleaned up, Adora glanced at Wyatt. He was just sitting, looking at nothing in particular.
She knew the look on his face; it was a look that said he had something on his mind. She glanced at Jeb and said, “Go get your things ready, Jeb, we’re leaving soon.” He grunted and stomped his feet as he walked towards his room. Jeb liked the little cabin by the lake. He had taken some bread, the day before, and pulled pieces off, tossing them into the water. He watched as the fish fought for every scrap of food.
She let out a sigh. “Wyatt, are you okay?”
He nodded. “Just thinking,” he said to her.
“About?”
“I’ve got things in my head that I need to work out,” he said, beginning to sound annoyed at Adora’s questioning.
“Like what?”
“Everything,” he said, shutting himself away from her, as he’d done so many times in the past.
“Don’t do this!” she said, placing her hands on her hips.
“Do what?” he responded quickly.
“Shut me out. This is what you do, Wyatt. Whenever things get bad, you don’t talk to me. You keep it all bottled up inside, saying, ‘I’ve got things in my head that I need to work out’,” she repeated his words by lowering her voice in an attempt to sound like him. His jaw clenched tight and eyes narrowed as he glared at her.
“Your problems are my problems, Wyatt. And I can’t help you if you don’t open up.” She turned to the sink and threw the towel down. Adora heard the chair move across the floor and creak in a sort of relieved sound as his weight lifted off it.
“If you hadn’t noticed, things are not going to be easy for us; I need to think things through. What I don’t need is you breathing down my neck, asking me if I’m okay every two minutes.” After pausing, he continued, breaking the tension that filled the air between them, “We need to get moving.”
Adora heard him walk away and slowly closed her eyes. She heard the door open and then close; he obviously went outside to retrieve the two boxes. When she opened her eyes, Adora saw them through the window.
“Oh gods. Wyatt! Jeb!” she hollered. Jeb came running towards her. “Mom?”
“Hide, baby, and don’t come out, you got me? Don’t come out,” she said, squeezing his arms.
“Mom, you’re hurting me,” Jeb said with pain on his face.
She released her grip, kissed his forehead and repeated her command, “Hide.” She started for the door when she heard a gunshot and a voice yell, “Stop right there, Cain!”
The memory faded as Adora wiped a tear away. “I’m sorry, Wyatt. I wish I could take back the things I said. I hope you know how much I love you,” she whispered. She felt a tug on her apron and when she opened her eyes, she looked down and saw Jeb staring up at her.
“He knows, mom,” Jeb answered. She nodded but still felt guilty that her last words to Wyatt had been out of stress and anger. Adora pulled the bucket back up and with Jeb’s help, brought water to the thirsty Longcoats.
~~~~
“You said you were in the university; what were you studying?” Garrett asked, intently watching the kid wrestle with putting his cot together.
“Medicine,” Mason answered while the cot collapsed on him - again. Clearly, he was becoming frustrated.
Garrett watched him with fascination. “Really? A doctor, huh?” He shook his head and then smirked at the young man’s predicament. “I reckon they don’t teach you how to put a cot together in the university, do they?”
Huffing heavily through his nose, Mason turned to face Garrett, “We have beds - proper beds - in the dorms. We don’t have cots. Cots are used for camping and army life - I don’t go camping, never have, never will! And I’m certainly not in the army. You see these hands?” He held his hands up in Garrett’s line of vision. “These hands have no calluses on them. You know why?” Garrett shook his head, looking at the young man’s hands. “It’s because I’m studying to be a surgeon, I need my hands, they are important. I was not about to risk losing a finger - or two - or to break my wrists doing hard, manual labor.” Garrett raised a brow and Mason’s brows arched. He was in trouble with the only man who could protect him. “Not that there’s anything wrong with hard manual labor,” Mason back-peddled.
Garrett nodded slightly as he muttered, “uh-huh.” Mason looked at him, apologetically. “Well, as I was saying, I’d probably end up needing steel rods put in them. If that happens, I won’t have the dexterity that I need to be a surgeon, see, wrists bend.” To illustrate his point, Mason moved his hand in a circular motion. Garrett eyed the moving hand closely with a smirk. He figured the kid might be exaggerating a bit, but he did have a good reason to be upset.
“Mason.”
“I had two more annuals to go, then an internship and, what do the Longcoats do?” Mason continued, ignoring Garrett.
“Mason.”
“They march into the city, shut down the university and then they burn our books. I mean-”
“Mason.” Garrett rolled his eyes when the young lad continued.
“How do they expect to live without doctors and surgeons? I suppose Shiz University is still open-”
“Mason!” Garrett said with a bite in his tone.
Mason paused with his mouth wide open.
“Look,” Garrett pushed around him and, with the help of a dowel rod, had the kid’s cot ready to go in under two minutes.
“Well, I would have figured it out, eventually.” When Garrett wasn't looking, Mason gave the cot a little kick. “Mister Cain,” Mason started, but Garrett put his hands up to cut him off.
“My father is Mister Cain, call me Garrett,” he said and then sat down on his cot, reaching for a deck of cards.
Mason nodded as he spoke, “Okay, Garrett, you said you would teach me how to fight.”
“I did, didn’t I?” Garrett leaned against the wall, shuffling the cards. “First,” he held up the cards, “let’s play some poker. You do know how to play right?”
“Well, no, I mean, I played in college, but-”
Garrett cut him off, “Good, then have a seat, kid.” He patted a spot on the cot. Mason, somewhat confused, sat down, watched him shuffle the deck and then passed some cards out. They played about a half-dozen games, with Garrett winning all of them.
Mason got frustrated and tossed the cards to the cot. “I thought you were going to teach me!” Mason said, angered. He stood up and paced while Garrett watched him. Mason finally stopped and looked at Garrett. “What?”
“You done?” Garrett asked, shuffling the cards.
“No!” Mason said, looking perplexed. “I was hoping that you would teach me how to fight instead of sitting around and playing poker. How is this supposed to help me?”
Garrett cocked his head to the side and smirked. “Do you know why you lost all the games?”
“What?” Mason asked, completely taken by surprise at Garrett’s question. “What does that have to do with fighting?”
“A lot of things, actually,” Garrett answered, slightly narrowing his eyes. “For instance, look at you, you’re all worked up. You can’t think straight when you’re stressed. Sit.” Garrett looked at Mason with a raised brow. “You want me to teach you or not?”
Mason glanced around and let out a sigh before sitting down. “Good,” Garrett said, responding to the kid sitting down. “Look, I won because I read your face.” He noticed the kid looked confused. “Ever hear of ‘poker-face’?” Mason nodded. “Well, your poker-face needs some work. You’re a college kid, you’re pretty smart, but smarts alone won’t keep you safe here. The key to facing someone down is not to show any emotion, at all. Just blinking could be the difference between walking away or being carried away. I was able to call your bluff, but you couldn’t call mine. Had you been able to notice when I was bluffing, you would have won half those games. I knew you were bluffing because you kept looking away from my eyes, you were sweating and you were fidgeting. I can teach you to fight, but I need to teach you how to bluff. Bullies only prey on the weak because they themselves are nothing but cowards. Longcoats and the convicts they brought in are nothing more than bullies and they know how to use fear as a tactic. If they sense your fear, they’ll attack. Stand up to them and they’ll respect you - mostly. Now, clear your mind. Think of nothing else. Breathe normally. Keep eye contact. Don’t show any emotion.” Garrett reached for the cards again and reshuffled them. “Now, let’s try this again and then we’ll work on you remaining calm and not getting anxious.”
Mason understood that Garrett had been testing him to see what his weaknesses were. He just didn’t realize it until now. That’s what happened with most bullies: they found your weakness and exploited it. In most cases, the weakness was fear.
“Can I ask you something?” Mason asked, sitting up straight and forward. He watched as Garrett nodded. “Was there ever a time when you were afraid? I mean, as a kid, growing up. Did you ever have trouble with bullies?”
Garrett stopped shuffling and his eyes searched Mason’s for a moment before they focused on Brent, who was just as interested in this conversation. “Oh yeah, there were times when I was afraid, even now. But, when I was around nine, these three boys were picking on my brother, Wyatt. I stepped in and told them to stop.” Garrett paused as the memory came back to him. He could see it in his mind, as if it happened yesterday. The smell of the field, the way the wind felt against his skin and the warmth of the suns.
“A few friends and I were playing kaskana in an open field. Wyatt was five annuals old at the time and he followed me wherever I went. I didn’t mind - at the time. Well, Wyatt was too small to play with us, so he would sit there and watch us older kids play. I saw these three boys from school pushing him around, so I went up to them and told them to stop picking on my brother. They were at least twelve or so.” Garrett paused again and looked down at his cards before continuing. “Well, one thing led to another and I was on my back with Doug - the biggest and meanest one - punching me.” Garrett snorted as he smiled. “See, the thing is, these boys had been picking on me for an annual. I was short for my age and I walked funny - kinda like a duck. They called me ‘duck-boy’ and stupid things like that. I grew up hating ducks,” he said with a fake smile and then it faded as he saw himself lying on the ground, bleeding and crying. His friends were too afraid to get involved, even though they had the three boys outnumbered. But not Wyatt.
“The next thing I know, Wyatt comes charging and flings himself at Doug with this growl that sounded like a bear. I’m supposed to protect him, right?” Garrett looked up at Mason, his eyes watery. “And there he was, protecting me. And he’s four annuals younger than me. Doug threw Wyatt off him like he was rag doll or something and I propped myself up on my elbows to see what was going on. Blood was dripping from a cut above my left eye and I could taste the blood in my mouth.” Garrett’s expression changed and his eyes narrowed. “I saw Doug get up to go after Wyatt and something inside of me snapped. I could feel the rage boiling from my gut. I got to my feet, clenched my fists, walked over to Henry and kicked him behind the knee. He fell to the ground, clutching his knee and rolled in the grass, crying in pain. Doug saw what I did and he came after me. That’s when I remembered everything my father taught me about taking a calf down. Doug was face-first on the ground and I had a grip in his hair as I pushed his face into the dirt. He was flopping like a fish out of water and I was yelling at him and, later, I couldn’t even remember what I was saying. My friends - including Wyatt - pulled me off him. Gary - Doug’s friend - pulled him up and Gary looked at me with these scared eyes, saying that I could have killed him. That’s not what I wanted to do. I just wanted him to stop teasing me and I wasn’t going to let him pick on Wyatt. Since that day on, I had a reputation and no one called me names again or bothered Wyatt. When Wyatt was older, we would fight bullies so that no one would go through what we did.”
Mason motioned towards the scar above Garrett’s left eyebrow. “Is that when you got that scar?”
Garrett nodded. “It was bigger when I was younger or maybe it just seemed that way. But that’s when I started to learn how to fight back and defend myself.”
“Did you get in trouble for almost killing the kid?” Brent asked from his cot.
“Oh yeah, a lot of trouble and counseling. Guess they wanted to make sure I wasn’t harboring homicidal tendencies.”
“How did other parents react?” Mason asked.
“They were concerned, but they knew I hadn’t showed that kind of behavior before. When they learned the truth about what happened and the names I was being called, they understood. It didn’t make it right, but they still let their kids play with me - after a while.” Garrett pursed his lips together and shrugged his shoulders.
“Sow a thought, and you reap an act; sow an act, and you reap a habit; sow a habit, and you reap a character; sow a character, and you reap a destiny.”
Garrett and Mason glanced at Brent. “It’s something my father used to say,” Brent said with a slight shrug of his shoulders.
“Yeah,” Garrett said sadly. Telling the story made him think of Wyatt and, suddenly, he felt guilty for all the mean things he used to do and say to Wyatt.
“It’s what brothers do,” Brent said, pulling Garrett from his thoughts of guilt. “Don’t feel guilty for teasing him. It helped shape your brother into the man he became.”
“How did you know what I was thinking?” Garrett asked. Mason was also curious and turned to face Brent.
“Us Winkies are mind-readers…” Garrett and Mason paused. “You talk about showing no emotion; I could see written all over your face,” Brent said and then the three men laughed.
Garrett sat back, his back resting against the wall. “You were there in Central City, what happened when it fell?” he asked Mason. He had to know the truth.
Mason’s smile faded and he began to pick lint from his pants. “Why do you want to know?”
Garrett paused, looking at Brent and then back to Mason. Seriousness played across his face and Mason saw that look earlier, when Garrett confronted the convicts. “Cause my brother, Wyatt, was a Tin Man…and he was there. And I need to know what happened.”
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‘Reap a destiny’ quote is by Charles Reade.