Fenny sat slumped in the back seat of a large, black car. Her wrists were tied together behind her back and the rope was beginning to dig into her flesh. The situation felt surreal. This wasn’t normal. You don’t have psychotic girlfriends holding you hostage at gunpoint while Celine Dion warbles from the surrounding speakers. Ritza had barely said a word to Fenny since she’d escorted her from Gina’s apartment, not that Fenny really wanted an in depth conversation with the deranged young woman.

“Don’t you have anything other than bloody Celine Dion?” Fenny spat.

“Did I ask you to talk?” Ritza spat back.

“Did I ask you to kidnap me?” Fenny countered.

Ritza paused. “You don’t like Celine Dion?”

“I like Celine Dion as much as a cold tea enema.”

“Well I happen to think her music speaks to me,” Ritza huffed.

“Yeah, I can see how ‘My Heart Will Go On’ relates to holding a gun to someone’s head,” Fenny muttered.

“So, you’re what? A Britney or Madonna fan then?” Ritza asked.

Fenny pondered how inane the conversation was. This was, after all, hardly the time or place to debate music tastes. “Please, give me real music: The Beatles, Crosby, Stills and Nash…The Who for Christ’s sake.”

“Who?” Ritza asked. “Are they new American groups who haven’t come out here yet?”

Fenny fell back against the seat. She didn’t think anyone could possibly be that stupid. What made it worse was that she was stuck with her.

“We’re not seriously going in that,” Greg demanded as Gina unlocked her blue VW Beetle.

“Have you got a better idea?” Gina countered.

“I call shotgun,” Paul perked leaping in the passenger seat. “Why do I suddenly feel that was inappropriate?” he added.

Greg and Brad reluctantly shared the cramped backseat.

“So, where are we heading?” Gina asked, twisting around to look at Brad and Greg.

“How about that old house, the one where we rescued Ryan from?” Brad suggested.

“Shit, I don’t even remember where that was,” Greg gasped.

“Not far from Katoomba, wasn’t it?” Gina asked.

“Bloody Katoomba,” Greg scorned.

“You’re navigator,” Gina announced, turning to Paul. “I need someone to tell me where to go.”

“Oh, I can do that all right,” Paul muttered.

Gina narrowed her eyes at him, twisted back around and started the engine.

It took less than half an hour for them to escape the city and become surrounded by lifeless paddocks and distant hills.

“If we have to listen to Chris Issak one more time I’m going to be violently ill,” Greg announced.

“I kinda like it,” Brad perked.

“I’ve met Chris, he’s a nice bloke,” Paul chirped.

“Change it if you want, I don’t care,” Gina mumbled as she stayed focused on the road.

Paul shrugged and sifted through the CDs in the glove compartment. “Got anything that isn’t me?” he asked.

“I’ve been too busy to clean that out,” Gina muttered.

“There’s a surprise,” Paul sneered.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Gina countered.

“When aren’t you busy Gina? Oh, I know, when you’re fucking married men,” Paul hissed.

“I’m not fucking Greg,” Gina spat.

“Oh, please,” Brad said haughtily. “You and Fenny both paw over him like he’s a rock star.”

“It’s sick…you’d think marriage vows would mean something,” Paul hissed, glaring at Greg in the mirror.

“Oh, and you’re such a fucking saint,” Greg spat.

“Excuse me?” Paul gasped.

“Shall we talk about your first wife?” Greg countered.

“That was different,” Paul snapped.

“How? You screwed around behind her back. In fact, you probably screwed around behind Gina’s,” Greg snapped back.

“Did you?” Gina asked, quickly glaring at Paul.

“It’s hardly the same as Greg fucking two different taken women,” Paul hissed.

Gina slammed on the brakes, and everyone was flung forward. “You bastard, you cheated on me!”

“Oh, now you care,” Paul scorned.

There was a brief silence where Paul and Gina glared at each other, Greg stared out the window, miffed, and no one said a word. Then Brad piped up.

“I hate to alarm anyone, but I think we’re being followed.”

Gina checked her rear vision mirror. “Fuck,” she breathed and put her foot down. Paul grabbed a map from the glove compartment and began scouring it.

“They’re fucking gaining,” Greg shrieked.

“Turn right up here,” Paul announced.

Gina turned sharply onto a forgotten-looking dirt road. As the dirt was kicked up behind the car it made it hard to see the heavies that were in hot pursuit.

“My car is gonna get so dirty,” Gina whined.

“Oh yeah, that’s important,” Paul sarced.

“SHIT, THEY’RE GOING TO OVERTAKE US,” Brad yelled.

The black car behind them was slowly gaining. It moved closer and closer until Gina was forced to swerve. Amongst the screaming, wailing and Chris Isaak warbling, the car flew down an embankment and into a pool of shallow water.

The four members of the car sat there in shock and silence.

“I fucking hate Australia,” Greg hissed.

“My car,” Gina wailed as the air bag inflated and smacked her in the head.

“I really hope that it’s the water that made my pants wet,” Brad breathed.

“I want my Mum,” Paul peeped.

“We’ve got to get the car out of the water,” Gina insisted, looking at her male counterparts.

“How do you plan to do that?” Greg asked.

“A bit of man power,” Gina replied. “Well ok, Brad’s a man, there’s a lot of debate on the internet about whether you are, and Paul couldn’t fight his way out of a paper bag, but it’s worth a try.”

Greg looked offended and Paul nodded in agreement.

“Come on, the quicker we do this, the quicker we can find Fenny,” Brad announced, opening the door. He stepped out into knee high water.

Paul let out a heavy sigh and stepped out. Being considerably shorter than Brad, he stepped out into thigh high water. He swore loudly.

“Go on, I’m helping too,” Gina scorned and stepped out of the car into the water.

The four of them were soon lined up along the back.

“Ok, on the count of three,” Brad announced. “One, two, three…”

There was a unified groan and the car moved a little.

“Again,” Brad ordered, still the car moved only a little. “One more.”

This time when they all pushed the car moved a lot. They stumbled as they lost their grip on the bumper, and everyone kept their balance but Greg, who landed face down with a large KERSPLASH.

Gina let out a squeal and moved back several steps. Brad and Paul went to help Greg to his feet, but he was already getting up by the time they got there.

“Nobody say anything,” Greg hissed.

Gina bit her lip, Brad covered his mouth, and Paul tried to focus on anything but the now soaking, slime covered Greg, who was trying to pick the slime off his glasses. Brad was the first to lose it, Paul was next and Gina followed.

“So are you going to tell me where we’re going?” Fenny asked.

“Not far. I need a good night’s sleep. We’ve got a long drive tomorrow,” Ritza replied.

“Oh, going sight seeing are we?”

“In a way,” Ritza smiled. The smile unnerved Fenny.

“In what way?” Fenny queried.

“If I told you, that’d ruin the surprise,” Ritza perked.

“Right,” Fenny mumbled and closed her eyes. She hoped Gina had found her note and had the police out looking for her. She wondered what Brad would think of his precious Ritza now? Actually, she wondered where Brad was. Maybe he’d come and save her, be her superman. Fenny laughed to herself; like Brad was even giving her a second thought. Something suddenly caught her eye, something was dangling from Ritza’s mirror: a monkey.