Gina found herself slammed against a wall, one burly man leaning on her, another crushing the heel of his shoe into her phone. “You bastards,” she hissed through the pain of the bricks against her cheek and the weight against her chest, reminding her of those bruised ribs.

“Well, well, well,” came the familiar voice, and Gina slumped against the wall. “I guess that answers the question of the day.” Ritza leaned one shoulder on the wall next to Gina. “So, where are they?”

“Who?” Gina asked.

“Your friends,” Ritza said, growing impatient. “Where are Brad and his slut?”

“Why, Brad’s slut’s right here,” Gina smiled at her. Ritza nodded to her lackey and he bashed Gina’s head against the wall again. She let out a pained groan and closed her eyes for a moment.

“Now where are they?” Ritza asked again.

“I don’t know.”

“Like hell you don’t,” Rona said, sidling up beside Ritza. “Tell us.”

“I don’t know,” Gina repeated. “They left already.”

“Left?” Ritza asked, her surprise replaced with a sneer. “Without you? Problems with your dear Greg?”

“Fuck off,” Gina spat.

“Where’re they headed?” Rona demanded.

“I don’t know.”

Another nod to the heavy, another blow to the head. Gina closed her left eye as a thin ribbon of blood flowed past it, willing herself not to give in to the pain.

“Where are they going?” Ritza growled.

“Oodnadatta,” Gina gasped before she could stop herself. Well, they wanted to set a trap, she could only hope they got it set before Ritza got there.

“In the car,” Ritza snapped and marched off.

“What happened?” Fenny asked.

“Gina’s somewhere, she doesn’t know where, she ran across Ritza and Rona and their heavies, and then she said, ‘Shit,’ and the phone went dead. I think something’s wrong,” Paul said, beginning to panic. “They realized the note was a hoax too, by the way,” he added.

“Damn,” Fenny breathed.

“Note?” Greg asked.

“I meant to mention it,” Fenny sighed. “We left a note on Ritza’s car saying that Brad had been kidnapped.”

“What?” Brad gasped. “Why?”

“Seemed like a good idea at the time,” Paul shrugged. “And, on top of that, Gina said that Ritza’s found out Fen and I aren’t dead.”

“So,” Greg began, “putting together the pieces, if she ran into Ritza and now she’s missing, that means…”

“Genie’s in trouble,” Paul sighed, trying to quell the urge to punch something.

“What do we do?” Fenny asked.

“We keep going,” Brad announced. “The only lead we’ve ever had was Oodna, so I say we just get there, hope that Gina shows up, and see if we can’t get the Crispin sisters out of our lives for good.”

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

“If the police aren’t involved in this plan, I’ll kill you,” Paul announced.

“Yeah,” Brad said, taking a breath. “Time to get the cops involved.”

“So, what’s the cunning plan?” Fenny asked, looking at the three men, who turned away from her gaze. “Well?” Each shrugged. “Brilliant,” she grumbled and collapsed back into her seat to fiddle with the map.

Brad steered the car in silence. Everyone was worried about Gina, what had caused her phone to go dead so suddenly, what could have happened to her, whether she was going to get to Oodnadatta. Paul felt worst of all; in his mind it was his fault that she had left. What was he thinking giving her ultimatums? He stared out the window, trying not to think about anything.

Gina woke sprawled in the back seat of a car and tried to remember how she had gotten there. As she blinked her eyes, trying to clear them, she heard Ritza and Rona arguing over the radio. “Radio?” Gina asked groggily, “I didn’t think we had a radio…”

“Well, look who’s up,” Ritza chimed.

“Huh?” Gina sat up to rub her eyes, but found her wrists bound before her, and everything came back to her, slowly. She must have blacked out after being battered about the head, and she still felt like she was trying to think through molasses. She turned around to see another car following close behind them, probably Ritza’s heavies.

“Don’t think of doing anything stupid,” Rona said menacingly. “I’ve had it with you, I’m just waiting for an excuse to shoot you through the brain.”

Gina’s head began to throb with a dull, agonizing pain. She tried to think back to what all those hospital dramas and soap operas said you were supposed to do when you’ve been beaten up by someone and your head bleeds, but couldn’t remember if sleeping was a good idea or not, so she decided she’d just sit back, close her eyes, and breathe for a while.

After a few minutes, Gina got her senses back, and wondered what mess she had gotten herself into and what she’d gotten her friends into, assured herself that they knew what they were doing, and wondered whether Greg and Paul had killed each other yet.

“This is all your fucking fault,” Greg snapped suddenly.

“My fault?” Paul gasped. “How the hell do you figure that one?”

“If you weren’t fucking around and messing with Gina’s head, she wouldn’t have felt like she had to leave,” Greg huffed.

“Me? Messing with Gina’s head? You self-absorbed little prick!”

“I am not self-absorbed,” Greg snapped. “I’m in—I’m sick of you!”

“Well if you’d stop thinking about yourself and the fact that you wanna get laid, you’d have realized that Gina’s sick of your advances on her,” Paul snarled, eyes narrowing.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“Don’t be an ass, Proops.”

“What, you mean you think she still wants you?” Greg demanded with a scathing laugh.

“GUYS!” Fenny screeched, not liking where the conversation was going, and both Paul and Greg turned angrily on her. “Look, screaming about who’s fault this is isn’t gonna get us anywhere. What we have to do is find out what we’re gonna do when we get to Oodnadatta. Now, here’s my theory,” she continued before anyone could argue with her. “Ritza isn’t far behind us or, depending on which direction Gina went when she ran into her, they could be in front of us, but the point is, she’s not far. And we want to get there before she does. So I vote that we drive all night, take shifts driving, and we’ll probably get there by morning. Ritza and Rona’ll probably rent a room for the night and we’ll get in town with time to call the cops or load the tranquilizer darts or spike the coffee or whatever it is we decide we need to do when we get there.”

“Sounds like a good idea to me,” Brad declared.

“Yeah, okay,” Paul agreed. “So then, what happens when we get to town?”

“That’s the tricky part,” Fenny sighed.

“I liked the spiking the coffee,” Greg announced.

“And where do you propose we get something with which to spike said coffee?” Fenny asked.

“I didn’t say it was a foolproof plan, I said I liked it,” Greg said.

“And I left my trusty dart gun in my suitcase,” Brad said with a disappointed shake of his head. Fenny rolled her eyes at him.

“So, calling the cops then,” Paul perked.

“And tell them what?” Greg demanded. “ ‘Yes, hello, police? This is Greg Proops, we’ve been chased all across this bloody continent three times now by this psychopath named Ritza Crispin and her sister, and we’d like you to do something about it.’ ‘Alright sir, what has she done to you?’ ” he continued in an affected Australian secretary accent. “ ‘You name it, they’ve done it.’ ‘Alright Mr Poops—’ ‘Proops actually.’ ‘Right. I assume you have all the necessary paperwork, receipts and bullet wounds to prove this, correct?’ ‘Um, no, actually, but—’ Click. That’s gonna be real effective, isn’t it?”

“The only man I’ve ever known to make fun of himself while having imaginary conversations with his police dispatcher-alter ego,” Fenny mused.

“But he makes a good point,” Brad sighed.

“We’re just gonna have to catch her at something,” Paul suggested.

“Like what?” Greg demanded.

“Well, if she has Gina, there’s kidnapping.”

“Yeah, and maybe we could get her to shoot one of us,” Greg cried, clapping his hands in mock enthusiasm. “That might get someone’s attention.”

“I doubt her guns are registered, do they care about that in this country?” Fenny asked, glancing at Paul.

“What, like I’m an expert on the local gun laws, I don’t know.”

“Well, there’s always that car that she pumped full of lead,” Brad said. “I’m sure the cops are itching to find out who did that.”

“Rona did it, actually,” Fenny said. “Not that it matters, I mean, it’s just…y’know, that’s kinda burned into my memory, and it was Rona with the gun.”

“Well, we’ve gotta get her put away too,” Paul enthused.

“So then, our genius plan is get to town and wait for Ritza to do something we can get her arrested for?” Greg asked.

“Looks like that’s it at the moment,” Brad sighed.

“Isn’t that a bit dangerous?” Paul asked. “I mean, what if they do something they can get arrested for that’s aimed at us? Someone could get hurt. I’m thinking specifically Fenny.”

She took a deep breath. “I’m willing to take that risk, really. If we don’t catch her, she’s gonna be trying to get at me anyway, right? It’s a lose-lose situation.”

“Well, if we’re all for it, then I guess we go for it,” Brad said carefully.

“Agreed,” Paul nodded.

“Yeah,” Fenny said softly.

“Works for me,” Greg sighed. “Wake me up when it’s my shift to drive.”

“Good, maybe we can get some peace,” Paul huffed.

“Boys, don’t start,” Fenny snapped.

“Yes mother,” they said together, frowned at each other, and glared out their windows.

Gina sighed and lay back across the back seat, her feet on the window and head on the arm rest. “What are you doing back there?” Ritza grumbled.

“Getting comfortable,” Gina announced.

“Well stop it.”

“Fuck you.”

“I’m gonna shoot her,” Rona said.

“No you’re not,” Ritza countered. “She’s important.”

Gina nodded to herself. It was good to know she was good for something, even if it was bait, which seemed the most likely situation. “What would you do,” she mused, “if I were to tell you that Brad called the cops and you’re under police surveillance?”

“I’d say you’re full of shit,” Rona said.

“Hey, I’m a journalist, some people think I’m important, you never know. You haven’t exactly been discreet, either. I mean, leaving dead bodies in cars, leaving men cuffed to beds, broken bank vaults, exploding cars. You don’t think somebody’s noticed you by now?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Rona yelped.

“We could gag you,” Ritza snapped.

“Yeah, real inconspicuous. A woman bound and gagged in your back seat, that’ll look good when you drive through the next town.” Gina smiled to herself; it was somehow liberating knowing that she was important. “What’re you hoping to accomplish here, anyway?”

“Shut up,” Rona growled menacingly.

“Cause whatever it is, it’s not gonna work. I don’t see how chasing after Brad and his friends and the woman he loves is gonna get him to want to even look at you again, let alone, you know, marry you or whatever delusions you have.”

Ritza slammed on the brakes and stormed out of the car to wrench Gina’s door open and drag her out.

“Bathroom break already?” Gina asked. “Thanks, but I went before we left, you can go if you have to, I’ll wait. Maybe.” Rona came out of the car and joined them. Gina blinked as the sun shone off the gunmetal. “Uhhh—”

The butt of the gun hit Gina against the back of the head and everything went black again.