Gina thought her head had split open and was leaking its contents onto the back seat of Ritza’s car. She gingerly sat up, pleased she could still see through the searing pain that encased her head. She brought her hand to her cheek where there was a trail of dry blood.

“Oh we’ve finally woken up then,” Rona scorned.

“Where are we?” Gina mumbled blearily.

“Where do you think?” Rona hissed.

“Club Med,” Gina replied weakly.

Rona gave her daggers. “Oodna, you stupid bitch.”

“Thank you, oh queen of the strumpets,” Gina jeered as she leaned he head back on the seat.

Rona obviously didn’t know what a strumpet was and turned to her sister. “Next left isn’t it?”

“Yep, the guys should be there already,” Ritza replied, sounding tired.

Gina opened one eye and watched as they left the main street of Oodnadatta and headed down another dusty track. A few minutes later the car slowed to a stop outside a rundown old shack. Gina was surprised the evil sisters hadn’t decided to up the accommodation standards since last time. The door beside her opened and she was dragged out and pushed inside. She was so drained and her head pained that she didn’t bother to argue.

“Finally, we’re here…the glamorous hick town of Oodnadatta,” Greg announced as he pulled the car into the main street.

“Great, and not a big, ugly, bullet-ridden car in sight,” Paul scowled.

“Perhaps we’ve beaten them too it,” Fenny suggested.

“We can only hope,” Brad sighed, sounding unconvinced.

“So what do you want to do?” Greg asked.

“Stalk the streets with a pick axe in case they show up,” Paul declared.

“Yeah, that might be a little bit illegal,” Fenny scorned. “Let’s just go and have something to eat and see if they show up.”

“That sounds like a pretty sensible idea,” Brad nodded.

Greg parked the car outside a small eatery and they headed inside.

“Don’t suppose any of you have an aspirin?” Gina asked as she was thrust into a dusty armchair.

Ritza, Rona and the heavies looked at her like she was mental.

“Just asking,” she sighed.

“Can’t you just shut the fuck up?” Rona asked.

“I might if you untie my wrists,” Gina replied.

“Oh yeah, like we’re that stupid,” Ritza cut in.

“Oh I don’t know,” Gina mused, “I mean I’m hardly going to run anywhere am I? I can barely walk.”

Rona and Ritza looked at each other. Rona rolled her eyes and then marched over to Gina and pulled out a pocketknife. She held it to Gina’s face. “You even bother to try anything and I’ll cut your throat.”

“Alrighty then,” Gina smiled as Rona cut the ropes. Gina massaged her pained wrists as she sunk back into the chair.

“Right, we’re going out for a bit…watch the little skank,” Ritza ordered, before she and Rona disappeared.

“Wow, it’s just us now,” Gina perked to the heavies.

Fenny, Brad, Paul and Greg sat around a small table eating hot chips from the paper and drinking copious amounts of soda to combat the salt and vinegar.

“I wish they’d hurry up and get here,” Greg announced impatiently.

“We still don’t know exactly what we’re doing or what to expect,” Fenny declared.

“Well, we have the knowledge that we’re a lot smarter than they are,” Paul mused.

“I wouldn’t put anything past Ritza,” Brad snarled.

Fenny was surprised by Brad’s bitterness and rubbed his thigh comfortingly.

“I honestly don’t think Ritza would have the gall to shoot anyone,” she breathed.

“I reckon Rona would. Well she has, hasn’t she?” Paul grumbled.

“And one of the heavies shot Col,” Greg added.

“I think we’re in way over our heads this time,” Brad sighed.

“Don’t be defeatist,” Fenny declared. “Something will happen soon, I just know it.”

“Let’s hope it a good thing, then,” Greg scorned.

“And no one gets killed,” Paul added.

“I’m sensing low optimism,” Fenny grumbled and grabbed another chip.

It didn’t take the heavies long to drink too much and pass out on the dusty sofa. Gina got to her feet, holding onto the chair for support as her head filled with more pain. She made her way across the room as quietly as she could, and from beneath the empty bottles and strewn playing cards, grabbed the heavies’ cell phone. Gina tiptoed into an adjoining room and quietly closed the door.

“So what type of sign are you looking for?” Paul asked. “White doves? Blood curdling screams, the barrel of a gun pressed to your temple?

“I don’t know…I’m just trying to rebuild some enthusiasm here,” Fenny scorned.

Suddenly they fell silent as the sound of a call phone filled the eatery. Paul leapt to his feet and pulled the phone from his pocket.

“Hello,” he said breathlessly.

“Paul, it me,” Gina whispered.

“Genie,” he gasped. “It’s Gina,” he announced to the others.

“Is she ok?” Fenny asked. Paul hushed her.

“Where are you? Are you ok?”

“I’m in an old house. Not in town, turn left off the main street. You’ll see it. It’s a run down old shit hole.”

“Are Ritza and Rona there?”

“They’ve gone out. The heavies are passed out on the sofa.”

“Are you ok?”

“Crap, I have to go.”

“Gina.” The phone went dead. “Fuck it,” Paul hissed.

“Is she ok?” Greg asked.

“I don’t know, she didn’t say,” Paul shrugged. “They’re in an old house…just outside of town.”

“Let’s go then,” Fenny announced, getting to her feet. “Told you there would be a sign.”

“Smart arse,” Paul quipped as they headed back to the car.

Gina managed to get the phone back and fall back into the dusty armchair as Ritza and Rona reappeared. They looked at her suspiciously.

“They’re drunk,” Gina announced, motioning to the heavies.

“Idiots,” Ritza snapped and marched off to an adjoining room. Rona glared at Gina and then followed her sister.

Fenny took over the driving, while the other three kept a look out for the house.

“There,” Brad announced pointing to the old house, two black cars parked out the front.

“Shit, Ritza and Rona must be back,” Greg hissed.

Fenny stopped the car a little way up the road and the four piled out.

“So, what do we do?” Paul asked. “Do we just walk in?”

“Let’s go round the back,” Brad suggested. No one had a better idea, so they did.

The back of the house was as decrepit as the front. Brad approached the door and gently opened it. It squeaked accordingly and everyone fought not to groan. Brad turned to the others and held a finger to his lips.

“I always wanted to be Daphne from Scooby Doo,” Fenny whispered to Paul.

“Does that make Brad Scooby?” Paul asked.

“And Greg Velma,” Fenny mused.

“And me Shaggy,” Paul added.

“Shut up,” Brad hissed in a whisper.

They crept through what appeared to be the laundry, and into the kitchen. They heard voices.

“Hello, kidnapper like people…I’m hungry.”

“Stop talking.”

“No, I’m hungry”

“I said stop talking.”

“I said I’M HUNGRY.”

“Fuck you,” there was a clumping of feet disappearing into another room.

“I’m guessing she’s all right,” Brad mused.

“Not when I get hold of her she won’t be,” Fenny sighed shaking her head.

Paul crept up to the door and poked his head around. The heavies were still asleep across the other side of the room and Gina was sitting looking bored as all hell.

“She’s over the other side of the room,” he whispered.

The others crept over to look as well.

“Is that blood on her face?” Greg gasped.

“Oh god, maybe we are in too deep,” Fenny breathed.

“Come on Daphne, Velma and Scooby…let’s just get her and get out of here,” Paul declared.

Fenny tried not to giggle and Brad and Greg just looked confused. Then, just like a cartoon, the four of them attempted to cross the room. Their combined weight made the old floorboards scream and Gina looked out. She looked worried and kept looking back at one of the other rooms.

“Go back,” she mouthed, but it was too late. Ritza and Rona flew out of the bedroom, guns drawn, and the heavies woke.

“Damn,” Brad mumbled.

“How the fuck did they get here?” Rona shrieked, glaring at Gina, her gun still pointing at the four rescuers.

“Magic,” Gina sneered.

“I was really hoping you were dead,” Ritza snarled and stormed over to Fenny, grabbing her by the hair.

“Get the fuck off me,” Fenny hissed, trying to wriggle her way out, she stopped when the barrel of Ritza’s gun pressed against her cheek.

“Want to see me kill her, Brad?” Ritza spat.

“You’re sick,” Brad hissed.

Ritza kept hold of Fenny but lifted her gun and pointed it at Brad.

“I’m what?” she asked.

“You’re sick, sick and twisted,” Brad snarled. “You swore to me you didn’t do this kind of thing and I believed you.”

Ritza looked almost weakly at Brad, then her gaze hardened again. “Fuck you,” she breathed, her finger tightened on the trigger and Brad fell to the floor.

“BRAD,” Fenny screamed only to have the gun pressed back against her cheek.

Rona turned to the heavies. “Ron,” she announced, “take the pansy outside and kill him,” she ordered.

The heavy stormed forward and grabbed Paul. He tried his hardest to break the heavy’s grip but was no match for the huge man.

Greg backed closer to the kitchen door. There was nothing he could do. He looked over at Gina who had gotten to her feet and she looked back at him. And he noted anger in her expression.

“I’ve been waiting for this moment,” Ritza mused, pressing the gun harder into Fenny’s cheek and pulling her hair so hard it made her wince.

“What are you trying to achieve?” Fenny gagged.

“Revenge,” Ritza hissed and threw Fenny to the floor. As she hit the rotten boards Fenny noticed spots of blood, as Ritza pulled her back to her feet she realised they were from her.

Rona was busy musing over Fenny’s treatment and watching Greg, and Gina saw her chance. With all the strength and stupidity she could muster she leapt forward. She pushed Rona up against the wall, twisted her arm behind her back and grabbed the gun.

“This is for the pistol whip earlier,” Gina barked and struck the gun across the back of Rona’s head. Rona crumpled to the floor. Gina turned and pointed the gun at Ritza. “Let her go.”

“No chance,” Ritza spat.

“Let her go or I’ll smear your brain matter across the wall behind you for Fen to make into a masterpiece,” Gina demanded and step forward.

Ritza threw Fenny to the floor and turned her gun on Gina. “So you want to die first then?”

“Ha, it’ll be your blood they’ll be mopping up before mine,” Gina laughed sharply.

Ritza narrowed her eyes.

“Just drop the fucking gun Ritza,” Gina ordered.

“Get fucked,” Ritza breathed.

Gina moved the gun and fired a shot at Ritza’s feet. Ritza jumped back and looked horrified.

“DROP IT,” Gina yelled.

Ritza dropped the gun like a hot potato. Gina edged over and picked up the gun, not taking her eyes off of Ritza.

“GREG,” she yelled and chucked the gun to him. He looked totally stunned. “Don’t let her out of your sight.”

“Gina I can’t…” Greg babbled.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, be a man,” Gina ordered and dashed out of the room.

Greg looked blankly and held the gun in Ritza direction. A feeling of power moved over him.

“Get against the wall,” he ordered.

Ritza begrudgingly did so, as Greg’s attention turned to the other stunned heavy.

“Go, now,” he demanded. The heavy didn’t wait to be asked twice.

Fenny crawled over to Brad, who was lying on his side. She rolled him onto his back and noticed his shirt was soaked with blood on the shoulder.

“Brad,” she whimpered, stoking his face.

His eyes flickered open. “Man, what happened,” he breathed.

“You go shot,” Fenny said, trying desperately to keep the emotion from her voice.

“You’re bleeding,” Brad announced and tried to reach to touch the cut on her cheek. But the pain gripped his arm and he ended up letting out a painful gasp instead.

“You’ll be alright…we’ll get you to a doctor soon,” Fenny said softly, trying not to look at the blood.

“Help me sit up,” he breathed.

Fenny grabbed his good arm and used all her strength to pull him into a sitting position. She wrapped her arms around his neck and gently stroked his hair.

“I love you,” Brad sighed and closed his eyes, trying to relax and ignore the pain that was shooting through his arm.

“I love you too,” Fenny whispered, holding him as tight as she could.

Ritza looked disgusted and let out a heavy sigh.

Paul had been dragged around the side of the house and thrown against the wall. He knew there was no way he could fight this monolith of a man. The best he could do was to try and (a) take the pain and not (b) pass out or (c) cry like a girl. Although after being punched and kicked more than he could possibly have imaged, (b) and (c) were looking suitable options. As he stared at the yellowed grass, waiting for another blow to the ribs, another set of footsteps appeared.

“GET AWAY FROM HIM.”

Paul looked up and saw Gina standing there with a gun pointed straight at the heavy. “How the fuck?” he thought. The heavy put his hands up and then turned and fled. Gina shoved the gun into her belt and dashed over to Paul.

“Fucking hell, you look a mess,” she gasped as she helped him to his feet. His lip was bleeding, there was a cut on his forehead and he had a black eye. Not to mention the bruises that would be covering his body.

“How did you get out of there?” he gasped, wincing.

“A random act of my own stupidity,” she breathed, running her thumb over his lip.

“What happened to you?” he asked, noting the cut on her head.

“I ran into a wall,” Gina half smiled, but her smile fell and tears filled her eyes instead. “I’m so sorry you got involved in all of this.”

“Me too,” Paul sighed and wrapped his arms around her.

Gina burst into tears and hugged him back tightly, not wanting to let go and not wanting to deal with the situation anymore.