Disclaimer: I own nothing associated with the WWE. Just any OCs! Lyrics to "Country Roads" belong to John Denver.
Summary: After a car accident leaves them stranded in the middle of nowhere, the members of the Shield find themselves wrapped up in a deadly game where no one can be trusted but each other. But there is one catch– the game is intended for only one winner, and to lose is to die.
Author's Note: Hey! I hope everyone had a great holiday if you celebrated it! And thank you for all the reviews, follows, and favorites! They really mean a lot! I'm glad that you're enjoying my first attempt at these three as the main characters :) So, thank you again, and I hope you enjoy the next installment!
Chapter 2
"Dark and dusty, painted on the sky
Misty taste of moonshine, teardrop in my eye..."
"How are you doing, Seth?" Dean asked with concern. It was impossible to tell how much time had passed since he had woken up in the small space they were trapped in, but after quite a lot of it, he couldn't help but notice that the other man had grown steadily quieter. With at least one possible broken rib, his worry wasn't so unfounded.
Seth took as deep of a breath that the pain in his left side would allow as he lifted his head slightly to look at Dean. "I'm okay..." he answered, his voice quiet. "Just... kinda tired..."
Dean worried his bottom lip between his teeth. "Well, we both had quite a bit of shut-eye already," he told him. "You don't need any more. So no sleeping, okay?"
"Whatever, Dean..." Seth chuckled a little, knowing that his friend was just concerned, which he couldn't blame him for. He was worried himself since the pain in his ribs had only gotten worse since he had been woken by Dean, and though escaping from that would have been ideal, he agreed with the other man that letting himself fall back to sleep probably wouldn't have been the greatest idea.
However, the quiet laughter caused another wave of intense agony to shoot through his side, and he winced as he waited for it to die back down. Dean watched as Seth hung his head and attempted to catch his breath, sighing quietly himself. He didn't know if being slumped over was the greatest position for his friend to be in if he really did have a least one rib that was broken, but with the limited amount of space that they were confined in, there really was no other choice.
Once the look of pain left Seth's face, Dean leaned forward a bit. "So... how many ribs do you think are actually broken?" he wondered. "Can you tell?"
Seth considered his response for a long moment before he shook his head. "At least one," he muttered. "And that's definitely broken... I'm just not sure if more are broken, too, or... or cracked, or something less severe..."
That was the answer Dean had been expecting from the other man, but it was one that he dreaded as well. He would have felt better if he had more of a gauge on what the extent of Seth's injury was. One broken rib was painful enough to deal with, and it was especially a concern since he didn't know where they were or why.
But he also felt the overhanging dread that they wouldn't be leaving this place and certainly would not be getting any medical attention, a sentiment that he didn't want to share with his friend even though he had the feeling Seth was just as aware of that fact as he was.
"How... how's your head?"
Dean slowly raised his gaze to Seth again, a ghost of a smile appearing on his face. "All of the ribs on the left side of your body could be snapped for all you know, and you're concerned about a bump to the head I took?" he said with a small laugh of his own.
Seth attempted to return the look, but the effort was feeble. "Just want to know... how bad..." he replied. "Concussion?"
"I... I don't think so..." Dean took a moment to assess his own condition. A dull, pulsating pain was still lingering in his head, but the dizziness had long since diminished. The more he thought about it, however, sleep was something he probably shouldn't allow himself to do either, just to be on the safe side. He was determined to make sure he and Seth both stayed awake for however long they were kept in this place. At least for as long as he could.
"It doesn't feel quite the same as a concussion," he finished quietly. "I probably just... banged it a good one when... when we..."
"... Crashed?"
Dean met Seth's gaze, seeing that a similar impassive look was on his face. "You... you remember that too, huh?"
Seth nodded slightly. "I didn't at first... and I don't remember too much now, but..." He sighed. "What I remember is... we left the arena after the show was over. We had been driving on the highway for a couple hours... fighting over the radio. I threatened to turn it off, but... we finally settled on a station. You had like three cigarettes, and Roman was texting his fiancée... We decided to stop at a gas station to get gas and some snacks, so I pulled off the highway... We were driving under a bridge, and..." He hesitated for a moment. "There... there were sudden blinding lights... a car was speeding... hit us from the driver's side... And that's all I remember."
"More than I do," Dean muttered with frustration. "All I remember is the car hitting us before my head smashed the window... Though speaking of a cigarette, I could really use one right about now..."
The other man chuckled quietly again, once more causing his ribs to flare with pain. He closed his eyes and leaned back against the wall, his jaw setting tightly as he waited for it to die down. Dean's gaze faltered as he watched him, wishing there was more that he could do for him, even though he knew there wasn't.
"There's just one thing that really bothers me about this whole thing," he muttered.
Seth cracked one eye open. "You mean... besides the fact that we're... being held hostage somewhere?" he wondered.
Dean rolled his eyes. "Yes, besides the obvious, you asshole," he told him, causing his friend to smirk ever so slightly. But then, he sighed. "No... what I meant was... that car seemed to be waiting for us or some shit, man... It just came out of fucking nowhere..."
Sighing quietly, Seth had to admit that his friend was right. He vaguely remembered that he hadn't seen any other cars before he had begun to drive under the overpass. The headlights and the sound of squealing tires had been so sudden, literally as though they had come out of nowhere.
But he didn't understand why whoever had been driving it would have been waiting for them like the other man suggested. As far as he was aware, he, Dean, and Roman didn't know anyone in this area, much less have enemies who would go to such lengths as this.
Dean groaned quietly in agitation, once more turning his attention to the rope that tightly bound his hands as he attempted to pull at it with his fingers. He didn't know why he kept trying to free himself since the last few times he had tried had been futile. But he was very anxious, he reasoned, and at least this gave him something to focus on, even though it was a task he knew he wouldn't accomplish. Knowing he wouldn't get anywhere, however, he once again started to try to reach the objects he could feel were in the front pockets of his jeans. He was confused about why their captors wouldn't take their cell phones and wallets, even though he didn't have too much of value in his own, before they tied them up and dumped them somewhere. It didn't make any sense to him, but it was frustrating not being able to reach them with his hands behind his back.
Finally giving up once again, though he hated to do so, Dean leaned back against the wall behind him and noticed that Seth was watching him with a look of understanding. For some reason, it was nice to know that he wasn't the only one who felt helpless and trapped. "Damn... I just wish I knew what happened to Roman..." he said, again trying to find something to distract himself from his current predicament. Though he also wasn't sure if bringing up their missing friend was the best route, knowing that there were many possibilities of where he could have been, and not all of them were positive.
Seth nodded slightly in agreement. "I don't know, man," he replied quietly. "I mean, he was in the car when we crashed, too..." His dark gaze faltered. "Maybe... maybe he got out somehow, you know? Like after we were forced off the road, maybe he managed to escape... and he found a police station or something... I mean, that could be, right?"
Dean, however, didn't say anything. He simply looked down at the faded black and gray tennis shoes he was wearing that had a slight rip in the sole, the same ones that he had been considering replacing when they reached the next city since they would have had some free time between when they would have arrived at the hotel and when they would have been expected at the arena to prepare for the show.
"Or maybe he's..."
"Dead."
Seth's eyes widened slightly as he looked at the other man. That had been the last thing he was going to say, even though he had to admit that it was a possibility that had been haunting him as well. "Dean..."
"No. It's one of the more logical conclusions, Seth, and you know it." Dean slowly raised his gaze from his outstretched legs and met his friend's eyes. "Just think about it. Why would we be brought here and not Roman if he had survived? What is the point of only bringing two of us here?"
A long moment passed before Seth let out a quiet but resigned sigh as he lowered his head slightly. "You... you're right..."
Dean continued to look at him for a long moment before he nodded a couple times and lowered his gaze as well. "I know," he muttered. "Though I hate that I am..."
When the other man didn't say anything, Dean raised his light eyes to him again before he lightly kicked one of his legs that were still folded under him. "Hey, but we have to stay positive here," he added. "You're also right, man. Hell, Roman could be out there looking for us. You never know..."
Seth felt like laughing, but he thought better of it and instead forced a smile. "Dean... I'm gonna be honest with you," he muttered. "I never thought that you of all people would be the one telling me that I have to cheer up."
Dean narrowed his eyes slightly, though he also had to admit that the thought was quite humorous. "Shut up. Shit, man, I was trying to be serious..." He paused for a moment, lowering his gaze. "It's a lesson I learned very early on in life. It's the only way you survive in this world..."
A long moment passed where neither man said anything before Seth finally nodded a couple times. "I guess..." he agreed quietly. "We can hope that Roman's all right..."
"All we can do," Dean confirmed, glancing at the small space around them again. It was still the same four walls and low ceiling, no matter how many times he looked at it. "More than we can say about us, actually..."
Seth sighed quietly, knowing that the other man was right. He didn't know where he and his friend were, and he certainly didn't know if they would ever be able to leave. "So... where do you think Roman would be, then, since he's not with us?" he asked.
Dean let out a long, slow breath, meeting the other man's gaze as he shook his head. "That... I don't know."
"The radio reminds me of my home far away
And driving down the road, I get a feeling that I should have been home yesterday..."
Due to the small injuries that he had sustained in the accident, Roman was taken to the only walk-in clinic the small town the sheriff had brought him to had. He sat in one of the four uncomfortable, rickety chairs in the waiting room as he stared blankly ahead of him, hardly taking notice of the outdated daily nutrition chart that was starting to lose its grip on the wall. His mind was racing to the point where it was almost numb, even though he wasn't sure how that sensation was even possible. He just had so many questions about what had happened and where his friends were that it was overwhelming.
Then, he slowly looked up when the door of the clinic opened, watching as a woman with long blonde hair that was braided down her back walked in holding a child in her arms that couldn't have been older than a year old. The boy was crying loudly, his small hand grabbing at his mother's face as she approached the glass window the receptionist sat behind, and Roman sighed quietly as he looked away from them. He barely heard her say something about whooping cough as he cast his dark gaze down to the low wooden table in front of him, seeing that the pile of outdated magazines were older than he had seen in any waiting room. The most recent addition was a homemaker's guide from the Seventies.
Knowing that wouldn't keep him occupied while he waited or distract him from his turbulent thoughts, Roman turned his attention to the small, seemingly ancient radio that was sitting in the corner. It was playing some tune that he couldn't quite distinguish since it was so faint and there was a lot of static. He glanced around, and noticing that the mother with her child was too busy with the receptionist to really notice what he was doing, he rose to his feet and crossed the small room, his eyes narrowing slightly in concentration as he began to fiddle with the dials.
"Don't bother, dear."
Roman glanced over his shoulder, seeing that the gray-haired receptionist had glanced up from her appointment book to see what he was up to and that the young mother was watching him with curiosity in her exhausted gaze. "That hasn't worked properly in years," the older woman concluded, adjusting her wire-rimmed glasses to sit higher up on the bridge of her nose as she turned back to what she had been writing.
However, Roman wasn't dissuaded as he turned back to the radio, continuing to try to find the right setting. He had always had some interest in tinkering with older things, and at the very least, it would keep him distracted for a little while. He turned the dials for a few more minutes before carefully starting to straighten the brittle antenna. Once it was standing a bit taller, he turned the dials a couple more times, and a small smile appeared on his face when the static cleared and the gentle guitar melody filled the waiting room.
"Well, I'll be..." the receptionist muttered, a small smile appearing on her own face as she nodded slightly. "It'll be nice to have some music in here again, that's for sure..."
"Yeah," Roman agreed quietly as he turned away from the radio, pausing with surprise when he saw that the woman with the young child suffering from whooping cough was now sitting one chair away from where he had initially been waiting. She was bouncing her son lightly on her knee in time to the music that was now clearly heard, and not knowing what else to do, he sighed quietly and sat down in his original chair as the boy's cries finally dwindled down to nothing.
The blonde woman let out a relieved breath as she turned to Roman, holding her son closer to her. "Thank you so much for fixing that radio," she said, and he noticed that she sounded as exhausted as she looked. "He hasn't stopped crying in what feels like so long..."
Roman glanced over and met her gaze, nodding a couple times. "You're welcome," he replied, not knowing what else to say.
A couple of minutes passed as the young woman watched him pull his long black hair back into a ponytail to combat the heat, her gaze traveling over the tattoo that covered his right arm to the bruises and cuts that marked his scruff-lined face. "You're not from around here, are you?" she wondered quietly. "Everyone knows everyone in this town, and I've never seen you before."
"No, just passing through." Roman looked back at her again, noticing that she appeared to be in her early twenties, if that.
The woman nodded slightly in an almost thoughtful way. "That... that happens from time to time," she told him. "This town doesn't really get too many visitors. We're kinda off the map, you know?" Then, a small smile appeared on her face. "I'm sorry, where are my manners? My name's Isabella, and this little guy is Jackson."
"Nice to meet you." He shook the hand she offered him. "I'm Roman."
"Good to meet you, Roman." Isabella's smile broadened slightly. "You're nicer than most outsiders we get here."
"Oh, um... thank you." Roman shifted in his chair slightly, really not knowing what to say to that. The comment made him feel somewhat uncomfortable.
Isabella glanced down at Jackson, seeing that he was snuggling against her as he started to nod off. "So, how long will you be staying?" she asked.
Roman hesitated on his answer. He didn't want to tell the young woman too much, and he knew that all he wanted to do was find Seth and Dean and get out of there as soon as possible. "Not long," he finally settled on telling her. "Just, uh, gonna meet up with my friends again, and then we're gonna head out."
A sad look passed over Isabella's face as she lowered her gaze, and Roman felt slightly anxious. "Something wrong?" he wondered.
A moment passed before Isabella reluctantly met his gaze. "Look, Roman, you're a nice guy," she muttered. "But... if I were you, I would get out of here while you still have a chance. Before it's too late."
Dread caused Roman's stomach to plummet. He couldn't even think about leaving this town in the middle of nowhere without at least looking for his friends. "What... what do you mean? I can't leave yet..."
Isabella's light eyes faltered. "If this is about your friends..." she began.
"Damn right it is." Roman sighed when he saw one of her eyebrows arch, passing a hand over his face. "Sorry, I just... I can't leave until I find them..."
"They're dead, Roman."
That was the last thing he had been expecting to hear, even though it had been a fear on his mind as well. Roman slowly looked back at her with wide, horror-filled eyes. "Wh-what?" he stuttered quietly.
"Your friends are dead," Isabella repeated in nearly a whisper, her voice wavering slightly. "And if they're not yet, then they will be soon. And if you don't leave here as soon as you can, then you'll be as good as dead instead."
Roman shook his head slightly, not wanting to accept her words. There was no way that Seth and Dean could be dead. Just no way...
"I'm sorry..." Isabella sighed as she leaned forward and set her hand lightly on his knee. "But I need you to trust me, Roman. I'm just trying to help you. You and your friends have no idea what it is you're stuck in. But if you leave now, then you'll survive..."
A brief moment passed before Roman pulled his leg out from under her hold, trying to come to terms with everything that she had said. It was so ridiculous. It didn't even seem possible...
What he did know for sure, however, was that if Seth and Dean really were in some kind of danger, there was no way that he could abandon them. He wasn't about to leave them behind to die if there was some chance he could find them first.
But before he could say anything, the wooden door that led to the back rooms opened as a woman with auburn hair tied tightly back in a bun stepped out, glancing down at the clipboard in her manicured hands. "Mr. Reigns," she announced.
Roman quickly looked back at Isabella, but she had busied herself with checking on Jackson and didn't even seem to notice that his name had been called. Knowing that she was just trying to ignore his stare, he sighed as he rose to his feet and walked around the low table before following the woman down a narrow hallway. There weren't many doors, just the one that led into the receptionist's office and two adjacent ones at the other end.
When they reached the end of the hall, Roman noticed that one of these doors was open, and he glanced inside curiously. His eyes widened when he saw that blood stained the thinly-cushioned bed as well as the floor around it.
"That's where our more severe procedures take place," the auburn-haired nurse explained, glancing back at him as she opened the second door. "I apologize for the delay in being able to get you in, but we just had an amputation."
Not knowing quite what to say in response, Roman simply nodded as he followed her inside the other room, seeing that a similar thinly-cushioned bed with fresh white sheets was inside. The woman gestured for him to sit, and he sighed as he slowly lowered himself onto it while she set her clipboard down on the counter and turned on the sink to wash her hands. He had to wonder if there was a back door somewhere since no one had come into the waiting room aside from him and Isabella, and there had been no amputee patient in the other room.
He was just starting to look over the couple of exercise charts that were hanging on the walls when the nurse approached him with a few supplies in her hands. "You're the man who was found at the accident near the highway, correct?" she asked, setting the small pile down on the bed next to him.
"Yes," Roman answered simply with no real feeling in his tone.
The nurse nodded as she picked up a short piece of gauze and dumped some clear liquid out of an unmarked bottle onto it. "This may sting a little," she cautioned before she began to dab at the gash in his forehead.
Roman winced when the liquid came in contact with the small open wound, clenching his jaw to stop the couple of choice curse words that rushed to his mind from escaping. He wasn't as worried about what it was now since he recognized the strong smell of the alcohol that was used to kill infections. He waited as she continued to clean the gash before she moved on to his split lip, a couple minutes passing before she cleared all the blood from his features. She then took a small ice pack and began rubbing it on the bruises that were also present on his face.
"Your cheek may be a bit swollen for a while," she commented.
"That's okay," Roman muttered. "I'm used to that."
"Well, then, hold this on there," the nurse instructed, waiting until he was holding the ice pack in place himself before picking up the next part of the supplies she had brought over. "Now, I need you to hold completely still."
"Okay." Roman watched as she draped a towel over her arm before she moved the needle in her hand closer, beginning to stitch the small gash in his forehead. His eyes twitched a couple times as she continued to work since it stung a bit, but it wasn't unbearable. The nurse used the towel to dab at the fresh blood that was making itself known as she continued to stitch, and a few minutes later, her task was complete.
"The stitches are going to itch for a while, but you can't scratch at them," she told him, carefully wiping the last of the blood off his forehead before she applied some protective ointment.
Roman gave her a small smile. "I've had stitches before," he said, removing the ice pack from his cheek before holding it out to her.
The nurse didn't seem to be as optimistic about his retort as he did as she took it and set it down on the bed. "Well, then there's no reason for me to repeat all this information," she replied curtly. "You're free to go."
"Thank you." Roman gladly stood from the uncomfortable bed, pausing for a moment when his lower back protested to the motion. The nurse glanced over at him, but he simply gave her a nod and left the room, not wanting to stay in the walk-in clinic any longer than he had to. There was something about the place that made him uncomfortable.
When he reached the other room where the more severe procedures took place, Roman chanced a small glance inside and saw that there was a bald man wearing a simple brown t-shirt and pants that were somewhat dirt and grass stained pulling the blood-stained sheets off of the thin bed. He slipped them into a black garbage bag sitting at his feet, where there was also a bucket of soapy water and a mop so that he could scrub the floors clean.
But at the sound of him walking by, the bald man quickly looked up with an almost accusing look in his light eyes, and Roman immediately stared straight ahead of him and sped his pace a bit as he continued to walk down the plain, narrow hall. He definitely wanted to get out of there as soon as he possibly could.
He felt a slight weight lift from his shoulders when he stepped back into the waiting room, greeted by the soft, slow guitar melody that now filtered through the speakers of the newly fixed radio. His dark eyes were immediately drawn to Isabella, who was sitting in the same chair as she gently rocked Jackson to keep him asleep. Hearing him enter the room, the young blonde mother slowly looked up, gazing at him with an almost pleading look in her eyes. Roman, however, just let out a deep breath and shook his head slightly, lowering his gaze as he crossed the room to the receptionist's window.
The older woman raised her gaze from her appointment book when he approached, slipping her wire-rimmed glasses to sit a bit higher up on the bridge of her nose. "What did you have done, dear?" she asked.
"Stitches," Roman answered, pulling his wallet out of the pocket of his jeans. "I don't have much money on me... Do you have an ATM anywhere?"
"How much you got?" the receptionist wondered, lightly chewing on the cap at the end of her pen and faintly staining it with her multiple layers of bold red lipstick.
"Um..." Roman flipped through the bills that were in the biggest pocket. "A twenty, a five, and a few singles."
The older woman leaned forward slightly. "Tell you what, hun," she said. "I know you're not from around here. But you fixed our radio for us. Just give me the five, and we'll call it even."
Roman looked at her with disbelief for a moment before he pulled the five dollar bill out of his wallet and offered it to her. "Thank you," he replied. "I mean, I can also give you the twenty..."
However, the receptionist shook her head and took the bill from him. "It was only stitches, for goodness sake," she told him with a slight shrug as she put the money in the register. "They shouldn't be that expensive. Have a good day now."
"You too."
"Miss Richards."
Roman glanced up from sliding his wallet back into his pocket, seeing that the auburn-haired nurse had returned to the waiting room with her clipboard. He glanced back at Isabella, watching as she carefully rose from her chair with Jackson in her arms and began to make her way across the small waiting room. She paused when she reached him, lightly setting a hand on his arm.
"Please, Roman. Remember what I said," she whispered.
"I will," Roman muttered with a slight nod. "But you also have to remember what I said."
A defeated look crossed Isabella's face as she lowered her gaze, shifting Jackson to a more comfortable position in her arms as she walked over to the nurse waiting for them in hopes of being able to get something helpful for her son's whooping cough. Roman watched after her until she disappeared through the door that led to the narrow hall and the two back rooms and nodded once when he saw the charming smile that the receptionist was giving him before he sighed quietly and walked away from the window, pulling open the door and stepping out into the bright afternoon sun.
Author's Note: That's it for this one! Some more unanswered questions here, and Roman's getting his first look at this town that they're stranded in. Will he find Seth and Dean? We'll have to keep going to find out! Thanks for reading! Your reviews are much appreciated. Thank you!
