And Then There Was One

Patrick Kane threw his hands on the handle of the massive oak door. He pulled and pulled, desperately. He screamed at the top of his lungs.

Ryan Kesler, Ryan Getzlaf, and Jonathan Toews skipped down the stairs. Ryan Getzlaf stormed forward and wrapped his arms around the frantic Blackhawk. He lifted him up off the ground, his arms pinning Patrick’s to his sides. The Blackhawk squirmed and thrashed about.

“Let me go! Let me go!” Patrick wailed, kicking and struggling to get free from the Anaheim captain.

“Shut up killer!” Ryan Getzlaf hissed.

“Where’s Bergy, the Bruin?” Ryan Kesler spoke, gazing around.

“He was right behind Getzlaf!”

“Murderer!” Jonathan screamed, pointing at the Anaheim leader. “Let my teammate go, before you kill him as well!”

“Johnny help me! Getzy’s gonna kill me!”

Jonathan stomped forward and launched himself at Ryan. Patrick was released and he fell to the ground. He scrambled to the side, on his hands and knees. The Blackhawk and Duck exchanged punches at one another. Ryan had the upper hand, but Jonathan stood his ground, bravely.

“Getzlaf! Toews! That’s enough!” Ryan Kesler snapped, grabbing Jonathan and pulling off of his captain.

“What the hell, man?” the Blackhawk sputtered, jerking himself from the ex-Canucks’ grip.

“We need to find Bergy!”

“Oh who needs the Bruin!? I’m going to my room. I hate this trip and I hate all of you, even you Kesler!”

“Don’t go there, Getzlaf!”

“Why, what are you gonna do? Murder me? I’m probably gonna die anyway!”

Patrick shook his head. “Don’t say things like that!”

“That’s a lot coming from you, Kaner! This whole time you have been acting like a female, freaking out and fainting, putting on a false charade! I know you’re stronger and I think you are acting all innocent!” the Duck snapped at the blonde Blackhawk. “I’m going to my room!”

He stormed up the stairs, before anyone could object, respond, or say anything. He vanished down the hall grunting loudly and kicking the wall.

Ryan Kesler turned to Jonathan and Patrick. “And then there were three…”

Suddenly, an earsplitting scream echoed down to them. It was Ryan Getzlaf’s. They all darted up the stairs. Sure Ryan had just gotten angry at them, but he was just as scared and infuriated as they were. He had a right to be chippy and on edge.

They skidding into the hallway. Looking down, they spotted the dead body of Patrice Bergeron outside of Ryan Getzlaf’s door. But no Getzlaf.

“It’s the Duck captain! He is the killer! He killed Bergy and then faked a victim scream!” the newest Duck shrieked.

Jonathan and Patrick walked forward and saw that one of the tiles in the floor was moving shut once more.

“He didn’t fake the scream! I think he fell through a trapdoor?” Jonathan stated. “Here!”

“What? How? Where did that come from? How was it never there before!” Ryan asked. He tapped on the floor, where the two Blackhawks stood hovering over it. It was hollow sure enough.

“Where does the end lead? If we find that, we find the Duck!” Patrick suggested.

Ryan nodded, stroking his chin. He gaze flashed to the poor Bruin, with the slashed neck. Blood drops dripped from the wound still.

“Let’s go! Before the night time comes!”

“But that’s the thing! Two things have happened during the day! Nothing’s safe anymore, Kesler!”

“You’re right! But we need to check! We have to find him, if he is the killer….do you want him lurking around here alone?”

Both Blackhawks shared a look and shook their heads.

“Then let’s go!”

The three walked down the hallway. They checked the library once more. On the table, sat the dolls. Two more had been messed with: Patrice Bergeron, who had it’s throat slashed and Ryan Getzlaf, who had a water bowl over his head.

Ryan Kesler snatched the poem up. He read the last few lines of the poem out:

“Four professional hockey players attempted to flee,
One was caught by the darkness and then there were three.

Three professional hockey players remained wondering what to do,
One was tortured and then there were two.

Two professional hockey players were left with nowhere to run,
One was driven to insanity and then there was one.

One professional hockey player was left alone,
He walked out of the house, alive and then there were none."

Jonathan and Patrick stood on either side of the Duck. He re-read the top line.

“Four professional hockey players attempted to flee,
One was caught by the darkness and then there were three.”

“That’s Getzlaf!! Oh my gosh, we were wrong! He’s not the killer! He’s in terrible danger!” Patrick cried, throwing his hands over his eyes and shaking his head back and forth. “Oh no, oh no!”

“We have to find him, before it’s too late! We need to find that end of the trapdoor and quickly! The captain of the Ducks depends on it!”

“Right!”

“And based on the voodoo doll thing….I think he’s drowning!”

“POOR GETZY!!” Patrick wailed.

Ryan dropped the paper back on the table and sprinted out of the room, with the Blackhawks on his heel. They desperately searched and searched.

Ryan Getzlaf stormed down the hall, letting out a loud grunt. He saw the dead body of the Bruin before his door, which was in-between Jonathan Toews and Ryan Kesler’s rooms.

He froze in place, an eerie chill creeping up his spine. He tensed up and jumped around. But when he landed, the floor was gone from under him. He yelped in horror, as he plummeted downward, swallowed up by the floor.

He fell some feet into pure darkness, until he landed in some kind of cool water or liquid. He opened his mouth, but immediately closed it, finding that his head was underwater. Panic rose inside of him.

His feet hit the water, and he was soon enveloped in its cold embrace. He didn't stop when he hit the water, the gravitational pull continuing to suck him under. It was then that he realized the danger of the situation he was in, but trying to escape the grip of the water.

A current caught a hold of him and tossed him about, dragging him down further still. He lost all sense of direction and the darkness gave no hint as to which way was up. He flailed against the strong hold of the water. It didn't want to release him; it wanted to hold him prisoner in its black depths forever.

"No!" Ryan cried in his mind. "Fight, Getzy! Swim!" His conscious told him this.

I can't, he thought, it's too strong. I can’t! I’m not the killer, I’m the next victim!

"Don't give up!" he growled to himself.

I'm sorry.

He was at war in his mind, as his thought clouded his confidence and strength, allowing the freedom of the panic he felt to flow around him, like the liquid he was trapped in. He couldn’t see anything either, which made the terror all the more real.

The chill of the water sapped his will to fight. He felt his limbs begin to slow and become more languid. Once he stopped struggling, he could feel himself sinking lower and lower. Vaguely, he thought at least he had regained his sense of direction. He gazed into the darkness passively, as bubbles escaped his nose and rose above him in search of air. He should have been doing the same thing, but he didn't.

In the distance, he saw a flash of white. He tried to focus on it, and then he knew it was the others. They had come for him. Even in the darkness of the water, he could see them, almost ethereally. They seemed to call his name, trying desperately to save him. And he thought they were here to save him, but then in a sudden burst of clarity, he knew the truth. He was in the space in between life and death, where anything was possible.

All the tension left his body, as he became weightless, boneless and whimpering. And his eyes slowly closed shut. He was dead, when they dragged him from his peril. It was too late. They were too late to save him.