And Then There Was One

Point of View - Ryan Getzlaf

A black bag was removed from Ryan Getzlaf’s head. He found himself sitting at a vast dining room table. His wrists were free and he could move his mouth around, so he knew that the tape was gone. He licked his lips to wet them, as he gazed around taking in the sights.

Around the room, the setting was a little stereotypical of a haunted house. It was downright creepy. A cool shudder trickled down his spine. Glancing around nervously, he saw somber portraits staring at him from behind layers of dust, seemingly penetrating him, deeply. On the walls, hung pictures of some of the greatest hockey goons from the past generations of the NHL.

As his gaze rounded the room, he saw multiple torches burning with fire life. The flames sent tiny sparks upward. It only made Ryan’s stomach turn even more. Shivers crept up his spine.

Outside, Ryan could hear the autumn wind howling, and it almost sounded like laughter to his panicked mind. Rain lashed at the tall panes of glass cathedral-style windows. The glass wasn’t see-through, but the shadows of the heavy drops could be seen, reflecting on the crystal. A few strands of cold, hesitant light streamed in through a cracked window, casting eerie shadows on the walls. That didn’t make him feel much better.

As gazed around, he couldn't help but feel that someone was watching him. Whirling around in his chair, he saw nothing but the empty hallway and the faces in the portraits staring back at him. 'Beware' they seemed to say to him. He swallowed a nervous whimper and continued to gaze around the inside of the dining room of the house...

Ryan cocked his head, as he took in the surroundings. He was curious, confused and terrified. He looked back down at the table.

Around him, sat other “guests”: Patrice Bergeron, Drew Doughty, Reilly Smith, Torey Krug, Sidney Crosby, Jonathan Toews, Patrick Kane, Matt Cooke, Ryan Kesler, Val Nichushkin, and Tyler Seguin. All of them looked equally shocked and bewildered. Just like Ryan, they were gazing around.

“What’s going on?” Sidney Crosby demanded, folding his arms.

“How should we know, Sid?” Drew snapped.

“We’re all equally confused, Sid!” Tyler remarked, touching his lips, where moments earlier black tape had covered his mouth.

“Was the binding, gagging, and kidnapping necessary, though?” Patrick Kane stated, rubbing his wrists, where red marks were visible.

Jonathan nodded beside him. He was frowning and not a happy camper.

The big Russian child of the Dallas Stars, Val Nichushkin was gazing about, curiously. He wasn’t really sure what was going on.

“Well, who kidnapped us?” Patrice inquired.

He sat at the head of the table. Beside him was an irritated looking Torey Krug. Torey was glaring at Sidney, who returned the disgusting look, by sticking his tongue out at the Bruin.

“I think it was the precious Bruin offensive defenseman!” Sidney growled, pointing his finger out, in the direction of Torey, who shook his head.

“Accuse your own self, Sid! Why would I consider kidnapping my own alternate captain!” Torey retorted.

“Boys, boys, let’s not do this. Don’t turn on each other!” Ryan Getzlaf spoke. “We should be working together to figure out what is going on!”

Val turned to his fellow Dallas Star linemate, “Where are we? I was told my parents would be here. Is everybody else meeting their parents?”

Tyler spun to his teammate. He gazed at him in awe and sympathy. “No, Val. I’m afraid your parents aren’t coming!”

Val looked down at the table. He was clearly upset. He was still at a loss as to who the other hockey players were around the room. He was clueless as to what was going on.

Patrick and Jonathan looked at Patrice. The Bruin seemed like he had been thinking hard and was ready to say something.

“Bergy, what are you thinking?” Jonathan questioned.

“We should explore the house. Maybe if we take a look around, we might come across some clues or find out answers!”

“I agree!” Ryan Getzlaf exclaimed.

“Hi, I’m Val Nichushkin!” Val piped up, waving.

“Hi, Val!” everyone greeted.

“That’s adorable, the Russian kid from Dallas is faking not understanding what’s going on at all! I think he is behind it!” Sidney snarled, jumping to his feet.

“Sidney, sit the fuck down!” Ryan Kesler snapped. “English is Nichy’s second language, leave the poor guy alone!”

“Yeah, Sid, I don’t think it was him!” Reilly spoke up.

“Me neither,” Drew stated in agreement.

Sidney remained standing. He put both the palms of his hands on the table and leaned over. He glared down the Dallas Star, across from him.

“You may be innocent, or you may not! I’m still watching you, Russian!”

Val cocked his head. His baby blue eyes shone in the dim firelight. He looked absolutely harmless and completely innocent. Tyler patted his friend on the shoulder. He leaned over and gave the Pittsburgh captain a look.

“Leave Val alone, Sid. He didn’t do it and he’s not faking. You know that! Egotistical jack----!”

“MOVING ON!” Jonathan raised his voice up, cutting off Tyler. “Let’s work together, like the Olympics and figure out some answers!”

“Tazer’s right!”

“No one asked for your opinion, sweet, drunken Kanerboo!” Sidney chirped again.

Patrick Kane rolled his eyes and ignored the obvious hostility coming from the Penguin leader.

“Sidney Crosby, shut up!” Patrice hissed, getting to his feet. “If you don’t want to help out, fine, wait in here, otherwise lend some helpfulness. Nobody is blaming anyone, until we get some answers!”

Sidney gave a massive groan and mouthed “fine.” Tyler embraced Val, holding him closely. “Don’t worry, Nichy, Sid is only thinking of himself. He has a serious issue with Russians.”

“I think it stems from Ovechkin?” Jonathan suggested.

“Oh, it definitely stems from Ovechkin!” Ryan Getzlaf added on.

The group all got up from the large table and walked into the front, foyer room. They all huddled together, making sure to stay close and not wander off, unless instructed to.