Greg flicked his lighter and lit a cigarette; he sucked in the killer concoction and then exhaled slowly.

“You know you really shouldn’t smoke in a hospital,” Wayne remarked.

“Why? It’s what half the people are in here for anyway,” Greg replied nonchalantly.

“Sometimes the word ‘bastard’ just isn’t enough to describe you,” Brad mused.

“Why thank you, Mr Sherwood,” Greg smiled.

Ryan leapt to his feet as a doctor approached. Greg hid his cigarette and waved his hand in a weak gesture to clear the air. The doctor sniffed suspiciously and then turned to the anxious Ryan.

“How is he, doc?” Ryan asked.

“Mr Mochrie is fine. The bullet didn’t go in very far and left little damage,” the doctor said reassuringly.

“So when will he be allowed to leave the hospital?” Chip asked.

“In a couple of days when the pain isn’t quite so severe,” the doctor replied.

“Can we see him?” Wayne asked.

“Certainly. He’s a bit woozy from the pain killers, though.”

The five men waited until the doctor left and then hurried into the room. Colin opened his eyes wearily.

“How are ya, buddy?” Ryan asked.

“Oh just dandy,” Colin sighed. “Greg, are you smoking?”

“N…No…” Greg stuttered and hid the cigarette lamely behind his back.

“The doctor says you’re gonna be stuck in here for a couple of days,” Wayne announced.

“Oh well…it’s got to be better than sharing a hotel room with Ryan,” Colin mused.

“Hey!” Ryan huffed.

Everyone fell silent.

“You know there’s really no reason why you guys need to be here. Go back to the hotel and get some sleep, I’m not going anywhere,” Colin breathed.

“Sounds good to me,” Brad perked.

“You sure?” Ryan gasped.

“I’m fine, I just need some sleep,” Colin said sternly.

“Ok, ok…we’ll come see you first thing tomorrow,” Ryan announced and then followed the others out of the room.

Colin fell into a restless sleep and woke suddenly in the early hours of the morning. He opened his eyes and as they adjusted he could see three large silhouettes surrounding his bed.

“W…what’s going on?” Colin mumbled.

“Shit, he’s awake,” a voice cussed.

“Hit him,” another demanded.

The first voice squealed.

“Not Flames, the guy in the bed, you fuckwit,” the second voice hissed.

Colin felt a sharp, sudden pain and then blackness.

The next time he awoke he was on a worn mattress on a dusty bed. Colin struggled to sit up and looked anxiously around the room.

“Hey, you’re finally awake,” a familiar voice perked.

Colin looked over near the window. Drew was perched on an old, moth bitten armchair. He had a wet pack of matches and sat flicking them out of the window.

“Drew? Where are we?” Colin gasped.

“Well it ain’t Hooters,” Drew sarced.

“No really, I thought you were about to pole dance,” Colin grumbled.

“What happened to you?” Drew asked, flicking another match.

“I got shot by one of Ritza’s heavies.”

“Oh man.”

“So where are we?” Colin asked, now clearly disgruntled.

“I don’t know, some run down, old house in the middle of nowhere.”

“And you haven’t considered escaping?” Colin scorned motioning to the open window.

“And go where?” Drew asked, “there’s nowhere to escape to.”

Colin swung his legs around and attempted to stand. A shooting pain ran up his leg and he fell back onto the bed. “So where are Ritza and her cronies?” he breathed.

“Don’t know. I hadn’t seen anyone until they dropped you off.”

“You’re hopeless, Drew.”

“Hey, I didn’t asked to get kidnapped, you know.”

Obviously it wasn’t a hard task, Colin thought as he searched the immediate area for any signs of where he was. He thrust his hand under the bed and pulled out a wad of paper including a burnt test paper, which he thought extremely odd. He shoved them back and turned to Drew. “So is there any food or have you eaten it all?”

“It depends what you mean by food,” Drew said sheepishly.

“Just tell me the extent of our rations.”

“Have you ever roasted marshmallows over a citronella candle?” Drew smiled.

Colin gave Drew a sarcastic smile and mumbled an obscenity.

Ryan, Greg, Wayne, Chip and Brad had decided the best thing to do would be to change hotels. They found an out-of-the-way pub with several rooms and opted for that and made sure they informed the hospital in case anything changed with Colin.

Ryan couldn’t even imagine sleeping and decided to sit out on the al fresco balcony. He snuck into the bar helped himself to several bottles of liqueur, and a 12 pack of sparklers he found. He figured they might make for some light entertainment.

The view from the balcony was nothing less than piss poor, so Ryan sculled half of one of the bottles and then lit a sparkler.

“What are you doing out here?” a voice spat.

Ryan jumped a mile and dropped his sparkler. “Christ Greg, give a man a coronary.”

“Oh, but it was so worth it,” Greg grinned and grabbed the open bottle and took a large mouthful. “So what are you doing?”

“I can’t sleep. Do you think maybe we made a mistake coming back here?” Ryan asked, lighting another sparkler and handing it to Greg.

“Of course, but I don’t fancy telling the whole story to the FBI and doing a follow up special for an ET Inside Report,” Greg mused and thrust his sparkler in Ryan’s direction.

Ryan, who had lit himself another sparkler, began making light saber noises. Greg joined in until his sparkler had burnt too low and was stinging his fingers. He chucked it precariously over the balcony and was surprised when he heard a yelp.

“I’ve just thought of a great way to entertain ourselves,” Ryan grinned.

“I think I know where you’re going on this one. How many sparklers are left?” Greg mused.

“Nine,” Ryan perked, grabbing two more out of the box.

“GUYS WE GOTTA GO, SOMETHING BAD HAS HAPPENED,” Brad babbled as he appeared at the entrance to the balcony.

“What type of bad?” Ryan asked.

“Colin’s gone missing from the hospital bad!”

“Jesus,” Greg gasped.

Ryan shoved the sparklers back in their box, pocketed them and followed Brad inside. He wasn’t sure what came first, the frantic worrying about his best mate or the seething fury he held toward Ritza Crispin.