Gina stared at the ceiling. She’d managed maybe twenty minutes of sleep between Greg’s continuous, earth-shattering snores. She felt so exhausted, and yet her body wouldn’t give in to sleep. She figured she might be feeling anxious or guilty about how horrible she’d been to Greg, how much she was worried about Paul, or how awful she was because she was more worried about Paul than about Fenny. Whatever was stopping her from sleeping, it was nothing compared to Greg’s snoring. So, she gently and quietly slid out of bed, pulled on her jeans and tiptoed out of the room, carrying her boots.

 Gina managed to sneak through the farmhouse and out onto the back verandah without running into either Kev or his wife. The sun was already warm, even though it was only late morning. She sat on the dusty steps and pulled her boots on as several chickens ran screaming past, followed by the dog, who had a mouth full of feathers. She figured he wasn’t the perfect farm dog, and got to her feet. She was about to set out on a walk when she heard the fly screen door clatter behind her. Gina turned around to see Brad looking sheepish. 

“Sprung!” Gina perked.

“Damn,” Brad mused as he wandered over. “I couldn’t sleep.”

“Me neither. Greg’s taken to snoring like a freight train,” Gina sighed.

“I was thinking of going for walk, which I think is odd considering that’s basically what I’ve been doing since I got here,” Brad muttered.

“Yeah, but this one is a leisurely paced walk, not a ‘run for your life, the bitch has got a gun’ one,” Gina nodded.

“Good point,” Brad smiled.

“So, you wanna walk together?” Gina asked.

“Sure, we can harass the sheep,” Brad perked.

“That’s New Zealanders,” Gina corrected.

“Huh?” Brad said looking bewildered.

Paul was running along a quiet sandy beach. The waves crashed gently on the shoreline and the early morning sun bounced off the surface of the water, creating a glorious soothing effect. Then it began to get dark, seagulls were washing up dead, and he tripped and began choking on seaweed. He was drowning in the vile, salty masses of kelp. Then suddenly he realised it wasn’t vile and salty, it smelt like a summer’s day, a fresh bouquet-like fragrance.

Paul opened his eyes to find himself buried in Fenny’s hair. He untangled himself and fell back onto his side of the bed. Fenny woke sleepily and turned to look at him.

“What on earth were you doing?” she mumbled.

“Your hair decided to cocoon me,” Paul replied.

“Sorry,” she mused and reached for her glasses.

“I suppose we should get up and rescue our friends and lovers,” he yawned.

“Can we eat first? I’m starving.”

“Yeah, sure. Fuck, what about our potential murderers next door?”

“We’ll just have to make sure we don’t get caught,” Fenny shrugged as she stretched her arms above her head.

“Oh, there’s a plan that’ll never fail,” Paul mused as he sat up. “I might have a shower, see if I can scab a razor from somewhere.”

“Good idea, you stink,” she jeered.

“You’re cruel,” he said, narrowing his eyes.

“I might try and track down a hair brush.”

“Good, because I swear that mane you have has a family of rodents living in it,” he scorned. “Sure, they smell like a summer’s day…” he added and was cut off by a smack in the head with a pillow.

Fenny giggled as she waved the pillow about.

“Gee thanks. So this is how you do that thing before you…oh you know, that thing?” Paul mumbled as he stood. “You know that thing?” he said with a thrusting motion. “That thing you do before you have sex?”

“Foreplay?” Fenny said bewildered.

“That’s it, foreplay. How’d I forget that?” Paul jeered.

“Because you always do,” Fenny groaned. “So I’ve heard,” she added quickly

Paul sniggered as he left the room and Fenny couldn’t believe she’d let him lead her into saying that.

Gina and Brad walked past several paddocks, taunted a few sheep, and dared each other to pat a cow before finding themselves walking through a clump of trees that appeared to be in the middle of nowhere. Through the trees was a clearing that contained a large watering hole.

“That looks strangely pretty,” Brad announced.

“That, young Bradley, is a billabong,” Gina perked.

“Like in that ‘Waltzing Matilda’ song,” he beamed, pleased he knew something.

“That’s right, the swagman committed suicide in one,” she mused.

“Everything ends with death in this country doesn’t it?”

“Anything that’s interesting,” she nodded.

Brad walked closer to the edge of the billabong and sat down on the grass. Gina wandered over and joined him.

“So, other than whole ‘kidnapping and killing’ thing, are you liking Australia?” she asked.

“Yeah, it’s pretty cool. I wish I had a camera though,” Brad sighed. “You could take some great pictures.”

“Well if we happen to find a chemist, I’ll buy you a disposable camera,” Gina perked.

“You’re too kind,” Brad mused.

They fell silent and looked at the water for a moment. She picked at the grass, nervous for no reason.

“What happened in that hotel room?” she finally asked. “With you and Ritza?”

“Things I’d rather not repeat,” Brad replied, suddenly going serious.

“Ok, but did you…you know?” she pressed.

He looked at her slightly annoyed and then back at the water. “Yes, I didn’t really have much of a choice.”

“Man, you must feel really guilty,” she sighed.

Brad stayed quiet for a few moments. “So what’s with you and Greg, I thought you were joined at the loins?”

“God, I don’t know. I’m one huge puddle of confusedness,” she groaned.

“Confusedness?” he mused raising an eyebrow.

“It’s a technical term,” she scorned.

“Oh I believe you,” he smiled.

Gina smiled back as she leaned back on the grass. “It’s so nice here.”

“Yeah, makes you want to go swimming,” Brad perked.

“You know, I can’t believe I got kidnapped without my swimming trunks,” she mused.

“Who needs them? We’re in the middle of nowhere,” he perked, raising both his eyebrows.

“Tell me you’re kidding,” she gasped.

“Oh come on, you’ve seen me in the buff,” he chirped.

“That was different,” she peeped.

“Don’t tell me you of all people are scared,” he teased.

“I’m not scared, I just don’t know if I’m comfortable with the idea,” Gina mumbled.

“Well, I’m going in anyway,” Brad announced and got to his feet. He undid his shirt and dropped it onto the grass. Then he pulled off his shoes and socks and undid his pants. Gina looked at the ground but clearly saw Brad’s red satin boxers fall to the grass.

Paul sauntered into the small, shared bathroom. It was mildly grotty, with a bath (complete with charming brown, rusted ring), a rusty, diseased looking shower nozzle, a plastic shower curtain with both a delightful sea theme and mould, sink covered in toothpaste spit, and a toilet that needed some serious attention with either a spray bottle or a paint scraper. The whole thing was made even viler by the two large, rotting roof beams that looked like they had been created specifically for visitors with suicidal tendencies.

Paul had managed to swipe a razor from one of the other guests – without them actually knowing – and was now geared up to shave off his face fuzz. He was about to turn on the tap when he heard voices outside the door.

“I won’t be long,” Rona scorned.

“Well don’t use all my shampoo,” Ritza hissed.

Paul’s first thought was, “Oh fuck I’m going to die in this shit hole.” His second was, “I must hide, I must hide now.” The only place to go was up. So, barefoot, he hoisted himself up onto one of the beams above the shower and lay along it. He’d just gotten vaguely comfortable as Rona stormed into the room. She marched over to the shower and turned the water on. Paul attempted to look away as she stripped and slid under the water. Rona began to soap herself up and sing various bits of songs. Paul was tempted to rip off some of the rotting beam and throw it at her when she murdered the Beatles’ “Help,” but instead he slipped. She didn’t hear but as he attempted to re-steady himself he felt a splinter slip into his foot. It took all of Paul’s energy not to scream obscenities.

Fenny had managed to borrow a hairbrush and some detangling spray from one of the female guests. While it had taken a while to remove the knots, she was now getting worried, as Paul had been gone over half an hour, and no man takes that long in the bathroom. She pondered looking for him, but as she got up he came limping into the room. 

“What happened?” Fenny gasped.

“Splinter,” Paul whimpered and fell onto the bed.

“How the hell did you get a splinter?” Fenny asked.

“From one of the beams in the bathroom. I had to hide because Rona decided to take a shower.”

“Didn’t you lock the door?” she scorned.

“I forgot,” he huffed and looked at the bottom of his foot. “It hurts.”

“Well take it out,” she jeered.

“But it hurts,” he repeated.

Fenny rolled her eyes, and wandered over to the bed. She looked at Paul’s foot, grabbed his heel, took the end of the splinter between her thumb and forefinger nails and ripped it out.

“Jesus,” he breathed.

“Now stop whining and get your shoes on. I want breakfast.”

“Fine, doesn’t matter that I’m now a cripple,” he muttered under his breath.

“Come on in, the water’s fine,” Brad perked, now chest deep in the billabong.

Gina narrowed her eyes. “Look away,” she ordered.

Brad turned his back as Gina stripped down and then gingerly slid into the water. He was right, it was warm, if not slightly strange and yet incredibly liberating.

“Can I turn around?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she replied once the water was above her chest.

“You haven’t come in very far,” he scorned.

“I’m not a very good swimmer,” she said sheepishly.

“No?” Brad mused, raising his eyebrows as he swam over to her. “Shame,” he added and then grabbed her wrists and dragged her out to the middle of the billabong.

“You bastard,” she squealed and gripped onto Brad for dear life. Brad cracked up laughing.

“Don’t worry, I can still touch the bottom.”

This still didn’t relax Gina: there she was naked with Brad Sherwood, the sexiest member of the Whose Line cast, who was also butt naked. Her legs were wrapped around one of his and she was gripping so tightly to his arm that her knuckles were white. It dawned on her that Fenny would probably kill her if she knew she was in that situation with her lover. Gina’s thoughts were interrupted by a noise on the other side of the trees. Brad hushed too. 

“Fucking nature…there’s a reason I live in the city…no grass, no trees, no sheep and no fucking hayfever.” 

“It’s Greg,” Brad gasped.

“We’ve gotta hide,” Gina peeped.

Brad dragged Gina to the edge of the water; they grabbed their clothes and dove into a pile of bushes as Greg appeared. He looked over at the billabong and decided to enjoy the view while he had a smoke.

“Right, we’ve eaten enough food to feed the entire starving population of Somalia, now what?” Paul asked as he and Fenny stepped out into the warm afternoon sun.

“We get transportation and we get out of here,” Fenny replied as they began to walk toward the main street.

As they turned the corner, Paul noticed something in front of one of the houses. He crossed the road and Fenny followed. What Paul had seen was a 1977, blue primer and rust Holden Gemini. “Look, it’s only two hundred dollars,” he perked.

“Are you surprised? It looks like it’s about to fall apart,” Fenny gasped.

“Well for the amount of vehicles we’ve destroyed in the last few days, I think it’s good enough,” he scorned.

“I am not driving that,” she huffed.

“Well I’m certainly not driving it,” he countered. “It’ll at least get us somewhere in cell phone range, so I can call Genie and we can pick them up.”

“You’ve gotta stop calling her Genie, it’s making me ill,” she grumbled.

“I’ll stop saying Genie if you drive the bomb,” he offered.

“Ok, but we’re only paying a hundred for it,” she sighed as Paul dashed off to find the owner.