Melting On Ice

"Whoa, listen to this. It says that they have been holding prisoners here as early as 1861 during the Civil War and there have been no successful escapes! Are you even listening to me?" I hit Patrick with my tour book to get him to look up from his phone.

"You have no idea how fascinating I find all of that," he sarcastically remarked before going back to texting Amber like he had been all morning. She had decided to go shopping with her friends instead of coming with us. The team was taking a break from the non-stop hockey that has been going on lately and taking a tour of Alcatraz Island, an abandon prison. We were currently on a ferry to get there.

I tried my luck with Niemi. Since he knew less english, it would be harder for him to tell me to put a sock in it. "Did you know that they refer to this island as the Island of the Pelicans?" I pointed to the spot on the page where it said this. He nodded politely and then continued to look out at the water. I sighed in frustration. "Why are we even coming here if you people aren't even interested!?"

"To relax." Coach Q glared at me from across the tiny boat. He had never been to fond of me and he was what you call, less the thrilled when he found out that I was coming along. "And your not exactly helping." I hung my head down and continued to read in silence. I suddenly felt my phone vibrate in my pocket.

"Hello?" I glance over at Coach Q to make sure that he wasn't watching me.

"Hey, what's up?" Derek's voice asked me from the other end of the line.

"Well, right now I'm in California." I noticed Patrick momentarily pause in his texting.

"Oh, that's right, I forgot" he said in a voice that hinted he didn't really forget. "So what are you guys doing now?"

"Right now were about to take a tour of Alcatraz." I watched as a man tied up our boat as we arrived.

"The prison?" he asked as I stood up and collected my belongings as the voice on the intercom instructed.

"Yeah." I carefully stepped off the boat, using Brent Sopel's hand for balance. "I actually have to go now. I doubt they have good cell phone reception in prison."

"Alright, I'll talk to you later." Patrick watched me as I snapped my phone shut and threw it into my bag.

"Was that Derek?" I nodded. "He called you? Isn't that a little clingy?" He was ironically sending his millionth text to Amber.

"Yeah, and um how many text have you and Amber exchanged this morning?" He made a face at me as he slid his phone into his pocket.

"Hello everyone!" We were greeted by a middle aged tour guide who was dressed like he was going on a safari rather then giving a tour of a prison. "Well I can see you all look very excited today." I glanced around at the team who were all giving him blank stares. Yep, they're thrilled. "You all wouldn't be so excited if you had been arriving here a century earlier. Do any of you know what date that Alcatraz officially closed as a prison?"

I raised my hand and answered when he called on me. "March 21, 1963."

Ladd reached over and ruffled my hair. "That's our little nerd." I stuck my tongue out at him before letting the tour guide continue.

"That's right!" The guide continued telling us facts about the island that it seemed only I was enjoying. "Before I let you guys off on your own to explore, do you have any questions?"

Patrick hesitantly raised his hand. "Is it possible to get accidentally locked inside a cell?"

I saw the tour guide shrug. "Anything is possible I guess but it is very unlikely. We have guards and security cameras everywhere so in the event that were to happen, you would be found within a matter of minutes." I saw Patrick nod slightly. "Any other questions?" When there weren't anymore, he dismissed us.

I started to examine a map of the island and when it stopped making sense, I rotated it. "Does anyone know how to read this?"

"Give me that." Jon came up from behind me and took the map from my hands. He glanced at it for only a second before saying, "I think we should go this way." He pointed in the general direction of the building.

"Way to go Sherlock" I sarcastically mumbled to myself, following the team inside.

"This place is creepy." I heard Burish walking not that far behind me.

"Of course it's creepy genius." Sharp was not far behind him. "It's a jail."

Patrick was a few steps in front of me and I saw him turn down a corridor while the rest of the team continued forward. I curiously followed him. "Patrick, what are you doing?" This hallway was not as well lit and I looked around nervously.

"I wanted to see what was down here." He slowly opened one of the cell doors and walked inside.

"Don't go in there!" I hissed at him but followed inside. I shivered as I looked around, thinking of all the people that have passed through here. "How do you know that we are allowed in here?"

"If we weren't allowed, it would be locked." I suddenly heard the door close behind us. We stared at each other for a moment before bolting for the door.

"It's locked!" Patrick yelled, pulling on it.

"No it's not!" I starting breathing deeply to calm myself. "Try pulling on it harder!"

"I am!" His arm muscles expanded as he used all of his might."We're locked in here!"

"Oh my god! We're gonna die! We're gonna die!" I starting walking around in panic. "Patrick, you are such an idiot!"

"Me?" He asked me confused.

"Yes you! We wouldn't be in this mess if we had just stayed with the team!" I kept breathing heavy to keep from hyperventilating.

"There has to be a way out of here." He started to pat blindly along the walls.

"Didn't you hear me earlier?" I asked, hysteria rising in my voice. "There have been no successful escapes! None!"

"Just stay calm" Patrick suggested while he watched me pace. "You heard what the tour guide said. They have guards and cameras and stuff. It won't be long before -"

"Do you hear a banjo playing?" I interrupted him, pausing in my pacing to make it easier for
me to hear.

He stopped talking to listen and then walked over to me to place his hand on my forehead, feeling if I was warm. "Are you feeling okay?"

I slapped his hand away in frustration. "Shhh, just listen." I leaned my ear in the direction that I thought it was coming from and he mimicked me.

We sat in silence without hearing anything for a couple of seconds."Why do you want to know if there is a banjo playing?"

"In the tour book," I opened my bag where the book was and began looking for it. "There was this one story about Al Capone." I took out the book and started flipping through it, looking for the story. "They said while he was held captive here he used his recreational time practicing the banjo so he could be in the prison band."

"Okay..." he said slowly, urging me to continue.

"After he died, they said that one night a worker heard a banjo playing from his cell." Patrick rolled his eyes in realization. "And I swear I just heard -"

"Your just psyching yourself out." He took the book away from me. "There is no such thing as ghost."

I sat in a ball on the floor and buried my face into my legs. "I don't care! I just want to get out of here!" I started rocking back and forth, forgetting to stay calm. I was literally on the verge of crying. I couldn't even last five minutes in here so I couldn't even imagine being trapped in here for years on end.

Patrick kneeled down next to me and started rubbing my back. "Do you want to talk about something to distract you?" I nodded slowly. "So I was talking to Tazer this morning..."

"And?" I asked when he didn't continue.

"He said that you totally suck at NHL 2010." I sighed in relief.

"Did he say anything else?" I was going to kill Jon the next time I saw him if he said anything about the little conversation we had last night.

"No." He paused with his hand on my back. "Did you want him to?"

I quickly shook my head, trying to get off the subject. "Nope."

"Are you sure?" Oh my god he did tell him what I said. Stupid Jon.

"Nope." I looked up at his perfect features that were looking out of the bars. "Did you want to tell me something?"

He helped me stand up and then walked to the other end of the tiny cell. "Nope." I nodded, wishing he did so I could have a longer temporary distraction and wouldn't start freaking out again. "Are you really, really sure that there was nothing that you wanted to tell me?" He totally knew but I was not going to give him the satisfaction of him hearing me say it.

"Fine, but you have to promise not to get mad." When he nodded in agreement, I continued. "I absolutely hate your mullet." He instinctively pulled on it and laughed to himself.

"We should get going before a guard comes." He slowly pulled open the cell door.

I looked up at him in disbelief. "It was open the entire time!?"

He smiled his thousand watt smile at me. "I'll accept my Oscar at the end of the tour."

* * *

"Emma, you'd better knock it off right now." Patrick threatened me through the phone. After Coach Q had found out about our little room change-up it was done. Patrick was back in his original room with Toews and Amber and I each had our own rooms since, in case I didn't mention before, we couldn't stand each other.

I yawned into the phone. "That would be a whole lot easier for me to do if I knew what you were talking about."

"You know exactly what I'm talking about." I turned the light on and sat up on my bed. I glanced at the clock. It was one in the morning.

"I do?" I glanced around the room, as if that would help me understand what he was talking about.

"Yes, so I'd appreciate it if you come get your boom box because we are trying to sleep. We have a big game tomorrow."

"Patrick, please be more clear on what you are trying to say." I rubbed my eyes as I spoke.

"Fine, play dumb." He said bitterly into the phone. "As long as you explain to me why there is banjo music blasting outside our door!" Banjo music?

"Sorry I can't help you with that." I opened my door and looked down the hall towards his room. There was no boom box or banjo player in sight. "Cause I'm not doing it."

"Yeah fine," he hissed sarcastically into the phone. "But come down here and help us figure out where its coming from!"

I closed the door and walked back to sit on the edge of my bed. "Here's an idea. Open the door and see what is making the noise." When he didn't answer, I continued. "Unless your afraid of Al Capone."

I could feel him scowling at me. "Forget it, it stopped."

I climbed slowly back into the comfy hotel room bed. "You have no idea how happy I am for you." I mumbled sarcastically.

"Goodnight Emma," he grumbled.

"Goodnight Patrick" I smiled before putting the phone back on the hook and shutting off the light.