“Do you think we should pull over?” Danny asked, looking ominously at the sleet that was pelting Gina’s poor battered beetle.

“Oh it’s not far, it’s not really worth it,” Gina replied, keeping her eyes focussed firmly on what she could see of the road in front of her.

“Fair enough,” he agreed and started fiddling with the radio trying to find a station that wasn’t classical music. “Which dickhead decided the only station you can receive in the country should be bloody classical FM.”

“The ABC, hon,” Gina mused. “You should know that. It’s government funded, after all, and what are a bunch of boring old farts in suits gonna listen to?”

“The best of Bach,” Danny groused and focussed his dejected expression back out of the window. He caught sight of the fuzzy glow of headlights through the slowly thickening mist. “Looks like we’re not the only morons out here.”

Gina took a brief look in her rear vision mirror as she slowed the car at a barely visible stop sign. She felt an unsettling twinge in her stomach; her instincts rarely let her down, and at that moment they were screaming that the car behind them wasn’t just someone planning a skiing holiday.

“I wonder if they’ve had acquaintances kidnapped as well?” Danny sighed as Gina took several quick looks in her rear vision mirror and then pressed her foot on the accelerator a little more. “Hey, there’s no rush, I know he’s your ex-lover and all, but…” his voice trailed off. “What?”

“Nothing,” she breathed, taking another peek at her mirror. “Shit.”

Danny looked at her curiously and then in the mirror. “Christ, that car’s got close,” he declared, paused a moment and then looked at Gina. “Oh no.”

“Last time I was in this situation, my car nearly drowned,” she sighed before they both jerked forward as the car rammed them from behind. “Bastards!” she hissed, putting her foot down more as they climbed higher into the mountains.

“You know, I’d never planned to die in snowfields,” he whimpered and gripped the door handle as they were rammed again.

“Yeah, wasn’t big on my list either,” she announced with staggered breath. She tried desperately to keep her eyes on the road, but was suddenly distracted by a large, black vehicle pulling up beside them.

“Coleman, what’re they gonna do?” Danny asked, his voice wavering.

“Run us off the road,” she replied as the car veered toward her Beetle and caused it to skid across the icy road. Gina screamed and in a blind panic managed to keep the car on the winding road. Just as she straightened up, the car came toward them again. This time it hit harder and was more difficult to keep the car steady, but Danny threw himself at the wheel to help Gina keep control. Before they had a chance to relax, the car came for them a third time. With the Beetle now so close to the edge of the frozen road, the wheels slid from the tarmac and the well-travelled car went from the road, through a fence, and straight down a snowy embankment littered with trees.

Fenny was confident it would be easy to get to McDermott. In fact, it would probably be sufficiently easier than, say, finding a way out of Cleveland. She turned into the same street for what felt like the fifteenth time and swore loudly.

“I know I was bad in a previous life, but this is ridiculous,” she groused, and took the only street she hadn’t been down. She had started to become blasé about her surroundings in Cleveland, and so when she suddenly heard an array of yells, it came as quite a shock. A large African-American man in a jacket with ‘Security’ written on it in yellow lettering appeared at her window. She rolled the window down and looked at him sheepishly. “I’m so, so sorry, I’m a terrible human being.”

“Did you not see the signs?” he asked coolly.

“Um, no.”

“We’re filming here. You’ll have to turn and go back.”

“Filming? Filming what?”

“The Drew Carey Show, don’t you watch television?”

“Oh, yes, sorry, shit,” Fenny cussed. “I should leave.”

“Yes you should ma’am,” the man agreed.

“Eugene, what the hell is going on,” Drew scowled as he stormed over. “I don’t want to be here all fucking night.”

“This lady nearly drove onto the set,” Eugene declared, motioning to Fenny.

“Hi Drew,” she smiled weakly.

“Fenny?” Drew gasped, trying to comprehend the rather surreal situation. “What are you doing driving through Cleveland at night?”

“Um, I’ll tell you, but not in front of your friend here,” she breathed. Drew told Eugene to take a break and called Ryan over. Five minutes later Drew and Ryan were both sitting in the back of Fenny’s rental car as she explained to them what had happened.

“Man, that’s pretty fucked up,” Ryan declared, blatantly stating the obvious.

“You can’t seriously be planning on going to McDermott on your own?” Drew gasped.

“Oh, I’ve battled worse,” Fenny shrugged.

“Wait, are we talking about the town or the man here?” Ryan queried.

“Man,” Drew said blankly.

“Town,” Fenny added, confused. “Anyway, at least I’ve told someone, so if none of us return, they have directions to our burial plots.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to borrow a few security guys?” Drew asked.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Fenny nodded. “I mean what could possibly go wrong?”

“You could wind up in a shallow grave on a Scottish moor,” Ryan jeered.

“Oh, happy thoughts,” Fenny muttered sarcastically, wishing she’d never run into the two most unhelpful people on Earth at that very moment.

“I was told to give you a freebie,” Tina declared as Paul gripped Troy closer to his chest. “Do you want oral, hand or full?”

“Y’know,” Paul swallowed, “why don’t we just chat?”

“Oh come on,” she smiled, and hewas pleased to see she had all her teeth. “Surely you didn’t come all this way just to talk.”

“You wouldn’t believe how far I’ve gone for good conversation,” he babbled as Tina unzipped her dress. It fell to her feet, revealing a tiny emerald g-string with a diamante heart on the front. He looked at her wide eyed a moment and then focussed his attention on the wallpaper. “I like your wallpaper.”

“You’re a shy thing, aren’t ya hon,” she mused and walked around to where Paul was staring desperately at the wall. “You not even gonna look at me.”

“Nope,” he replied. “Too entranced in the paper.” Before the words finished spilling from his lips, he felt her hands creep around the front of his pants and start to massage his nether regions. He let out a squeal and jumped away smacking, into the chest of drawers. “Ouch, Jesus, fuck…”

“Want me to kiss it better?” Tina cooed, approaching him again.

“NO!” Paul wailed.

“Well you’re just an uncooperative little monkey, aren’t ya?” He nodded. “Why don’t you put the mongoose down, hey?” she asked and tried to grab Troy. Paul let out a yelp and held it away from her. “Look, are you going to take your freebie or not?”

“Did I or did I not say I just wanted to…” he was cut off as there was a knock at the door. She rolled her eyes, and without even trying to cover herself, stalked over the door and opened it a crack. “What? I’m busy with a client.”

“He wouldn’t happen to be a small, hairy Australian by any chance?” a voice announced and Paul realised it was the scary butch woman who he’d attacked earlier. Tina turned to look at him and he flailed about in an attempt to get her to say he wasn’t there. Tina, unfortunately, was a very bad actress, and as she babbled on, Paul looked for an escape route. The only exit from the room was the window. He pulled it open and discovered he was actually on the first floor, and the only way down was by drainpipe. Without time to actually consider that he might break his neck, he swung his legs out of the window, stopping only to shove Troy down the front of his pants, and then flung himself against the drainpipe and did his best to shimmy down with a stuffed rodent between his legs.

Brad found himself led the rest of the way through the forest to a small, stone cottage. Billowing smoke poured from the chimney, and several ducks quacked their way past as he reached the door.

“Well this is pretty,” Brad perked and was shoved roughly in the back, causing him to topple through the door and nearly into a wall. “Sorry, I’ll save the compliments.”

“You’re not here for compliments,” Claudia scowled.

“Right,” Brad nodded. “So what am I here for?”

“You owe us,” Claudia breathed. “You owe us money, drugs…”

“You sure you’re not just pissed because Paul wouldn’t fuck you?” he mused and received a slap by one of the heavies for his effort.

“You killed Don and we want vengeance,” she declared menacingly. “And we will get it, from you and your friends…”

“And you’ll kill us all, yadda yadda yadda,” he sighed. “You guys really need a new ideas coordinator.”

Claudia let out a frustrated scream. “Aren’t you even a bit scared?”

“Hmm, let’s see. I’ve been shot, beaten, gambled illegally, nearly slit your beloved Don’s throat, discovered I already have a burial plot, nearly drowned, and been dressed like Robin Hood. Y’know, you need more than empty threats to actually make me quiver in my tights,” he perked.

She looked at her heavies and nodded at them. Two beefy men stepped forward and grabbed Brad. They led him through the cottage and out a rear door onto what appeared to be the rest of the farm.

“Where we goin’, fellas?” Brad mused as they walked the short distance to a barn. The barn wasn’t like the type you might see on television, full of hay and chickens. No, this barn was small and consisted of only two daunting things: some shackles against one wall, and a rather large, pissed-off bull. Brad was speechless as the men shackled him to the wall, spread copious amounts of hay at his feet, and then left. Brad swallowed and looked up at the bull, the ring through its nose glistening as it eyed him off.

“Nice moo, nice moo,” he breathed. “I really don’t want to die being impaled by a bull dressed as Robin Hood…nice moo…” The bull let out a snort and if it got any closer, Brad feared he might soil his tights.

Greg was beginning to wonder what it would feel like to die of hunger, and promised himself that if he got out of this one, he’d sponsor one of those African kiddies shown on television at 3am between infomercials. He let out a miserable, hungry, angst-riddled sigh and looked over to the charred remains of the wastepaper basket and started plotting what he could tell the maid when she came to give him fresh towels, if there was in fact a maid at all. He’d moved on to pondering why the trashy little hotel didn’t have a decent foreign maid when the door opened abruptly and Amy stepped into the room.

“Get up,” she declared briskly.

“Well good evening to you too,” Greg smiled. “And since you asked so nicely, I will.” Amy stalked over to the bed as Greg almost bounced to his feet. She looked him up and down casually.

“You’ll do,” she mumbled.

“Do? What do you mean, I’ll do?” Greg groused.

“We’re going to dinner,” she said nonchalantly. “You do want to eat, don’t you Greg?”

“Sure, so long as, y’know, you’re not planning on poisoning me and I don’t have to eat Skippy.”

“You should know me better than that by now,” she countered.

“You would think so, wouldn’t you? I mean we’ve spent all this time together, and not once have you told me about your parents or where you went to college.”

She crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes. “You’ve got two minutes to clean up,” she announced disdainfully.

“Thank you,” Greg smarmed and headed to the tiny ensuite. “You’re lucky I’m a man and we’re well versed in being hygienic in under 120 seconds.”

“The quicker he’s done with, the better,” Amy muttered as she perched on the end of the bed.

Danny blinked as the snow from the tree the Beetle was now resting against leaked through the broken windscreen and onto his head. He wiped his hand across his forehead and was alarmed to see it come away with blood. It took several moments before he gained enough strength to pull himself out of his seat. His door was pinned to the tree, which meant he’d be forced to climb over-

“Gina!” he gasped, noticing her head against the steering wheel. He started to shake her as he repeated her name. “Gina! Gina!”

“Dddaann ssttoopp sshhaakkiinngg meeee,” she wailed and belted his arm.

“You’re alive!”

“Of course I’m alive,” she groused. “I was just sobbing into the steering wheel about how much the repairs are gonna cost me this time.”

“This time?”

“I should be grateful I still have an engine, I suppose…”

“What?”

“Never mind,” she sighed and gave the horn a strangled toot.

“What do we do now?” he asked as he zipped up the jacket he was wearing.

“Walk,” Gina replied and tried to open the door but it was too packed with snow on the other side to push open.

“Here, let me help,” he piped up and leaned over her to give her a hand. Thirty seconds later the door opened suddenly and they both toppled out into the snow.

“Great, my car is fucked and my arse is wet,” she groused as she found herself wrapped up with Danny.

“There’s the possibility we could actually freeze to death,” he declared. “Unless we use each other for warmth.” He looked at Gina lecherously.

“I’m sure you’re already shrivelled up to the size of a cocktail frank,” she mused. “If you weren’t that size already,” she added, starting to get to her feet. She let out an almightily yelp and enough blue language for Danny to blush.

“Are you all right?” he asked, grabbing her arm.

“Did my scream of agony tell you nothing?” she cussed. “I think I’ve twisted my ankle.”

“You think?”

“The searing pain and swelling would be closer to a confirmation.”

“But you can’t be injured!”

“Oh really?” she pouted. “THEN TELL MY ANKLE LIGAMENTS THAT!”

“Do you want to cause an avalanche?” he spat in a lowered tone.

“Well it would just add to how fucked up my life already is,” Gina hissed and pushed Danny away. “Excuse me while I retrieve the first-aid kit from the trunk of my car and see to my injuries.”

“Hey, I’m bleeding you know!” he huffed and motioned to the cut on his forehead.

“Congrats, you’ll have a nice scar to impress the girls with,” she said sarcastically as she popped open the trunk.

Fenny stopped at the gas station to fill her tank, as she feared being stranded in deepest darkest Ohio should she run out of gas. She nipped to the bathroom, which she was forced to share with a trucker called Molly who had left Fenny her number on a napkin that she’d tucked down the front of Fenny’s top. Desperate to leave very quickly after that, Fenny hurried back to her car, and while it took several goes, eventually she was back on her way. Soon she found herself swallowed up by the darkened countryside. She relaxed a little and tapped her fingers on the steering wheel as she listened to what she thought was a CD of 60s classics that she’s picked up at LAX. It cut off midway through a song and she was greeted by a chilling message.

We’re right behind you, Fenella.

She slammed on the brakes instantly, then realised how stupid and clichéd it was to pull over when you’re being followed. How many bad horror movies had she seen where the victim had just done exactly what the killer wanted. She cursed herself for being clichéd more than idiotic, and hunted out her cell phone. The signal was weak, and with a nervous glance around, Fenny surprised herself by getting out of the car. She tried to stay near the door, but found the signal was much stronger on the other side of the road. She found Gina’s number and was about to call her when the sound of a car rang in her ears.

“Oh crap,” Fenny breathed as the dark car came racing toward her. Without a second thought, she dived from the road and into a ditch that happened to be damp. “Great, just what I wanted, to be nearly run down and my pants soiled.” She lay there a moment until she heard the sound of an engine and leapt up in time to see her car being driven off into the distance. She let out a strangled cry as she pulled herself back out of the ditch, the realisation that all she had was her cell phone and the number of a freaky lesbian truck driver making her cringe.

Paul pulled Troy out from the front of his pants and let out a small groan of relief. He pulled himself together and glanced around for somewhere to run to, hide, flee, and generally avoid being beaten to a pulp. Unfortunately, wherever he was didn’t appear to be big on hiding places. He took off as stealthily as he could while holding a stuffed mongoose along the back of what he now knew was a strip club. He reached the end of the building, glanced around the corner and felt his heart start to beat faster. Two large, Hun-like women were marching in his direction. He turned to see the one who’d come into the club looking for him coming up from behind.

“Fucking hell,” he breathed between clenched teeth. He had only two choices: (a) get beaten and broken yet again, or (b) run as fast as he could anywhere that wasn’t near freakish female lackeys. He decided on the latter alternative and took off across the other side of the road to the hotel he’d been imprisoned in. He heard a yell from behind, but didn’t turn to look, and ran blindly through the opened door into the lobby and straight down the corridor. There was all sorts of screaming, swearing, apologises, and commotion behind him, but no matter how much the stitch in his side ached or his lungs felt like they wanted to collapse, he kept going. He flew through a set of double doors into the dining room and the room stopped. He assumed it was more to do with the fact he was holding a stuffed mongoose than anything else. He panted heavily until he heard the moose-like women in the corridor and he bolted into the kitchen, which was staffed by a couple of guys in stained singlets and a small Asian man hunched over a wok.

“You all right there buddy?” asked one of the singlet-clad men.

“I’ve gotta hide,” Paul said breathlessly. “Got somewhere I can hide, mate?”

Before anyone could reply, the three women burst in and grabbed Paul. The one he’d hit threw him against the wall, twisting his arm behind his back.

“You little fuck,” she hissed. “Thought you could get away?”

“I didn’t do a bad job,” he gasped as his arm was twisted more and his head pushed into the wall.

“Hey, leave the little guy alone, lady,” piped up the younger of the singlet-clad men.

“Keep the fuck outta it,” scowled one of the other women in a faded pair of jeans.

“No, this is my kitchen,” retorted the man, gripping the whisk he was holding tighter. Two of the women dove toward the man, and his older singlet-clad buddy deposited a large tureen of soup over them. The women squealed and Paul took his chance, dove between the legs of one of them, and jumped up to grab a large butcher knife. He was about to yell out a threat when there was a loud ‘doing’ sound and he turned to see that the small Asian man had stuck the third woman over the head with his wok.

“Nice work,” Paul nodded as the other two women grabbed their now unconscious friend by the ankles as fled the room. Paul stood, dazed, still holding the knife in one hand and Troy in the other.

“You wanna tell us what all that was about, son?” asked the older man.

“Just, just let me have a sit down,” Paul mumbled and promptly passed out.

“So, you come here often?” Brad sighed, looking at the bull that was eating the hay at his feet. It responded by letting out a snort and lifting its head level with his crotch. “Hey, now, don’t even think about it, buddy,” he swallowed. The bull promptly lifted its tail and started to relieve itself. Brad’s stomach lurched, but at least it was too busy crapping to remove his family jewels. “There’s got to be a way to escape, man,” he groused to no one in particular and started pulling on the shackles. He flailed about for a few moments and then gave up, breathless. “Fine,” he huffed and looked back at the bull. “Don’t suppose you’re up for an Abba medley, huh?”

The door suddenly creaked open and Brad looked up, surprised as Gemma walked in. She looked a little groggy, but was thankfully re-dressed. She took one look at the bull of let out a squeal.

“Don’t mind Snuffles, he’s quite friendly, really,” Brad mused.

“I hope he impales you on his horn,” Gemma groused, rubbing her head.

“Like you wanted to be impaled on mine,” he grinned and tried to give a little thrust of his hips.

“Keep that up and I won’t help you.”

“Don’t see why you’d want to help me anyway.”

“Yeah well, you and your friends are in much more serious danger than you think,” Gemma declared as she stuck close to the side of the barn to avoid the bull and made her way to Brad.

“What kind of danger?” he asked as she reached him and pulled a set of keys out from her ample cleavage.

“I don’t know exactly,” she breathed as she unlocked the shackles from Brad’s wrists and then his ankles. “But if Claudia has her way, you guys won’t be making it back home alive.”

“And this is new why?” he asked as they both stepped away from the shackles.

“Because since Don was killed, she’s been determined to get revenge on the assassin. He was her sugar daddy, Brad. Without him, Claudia is screwed.”

“But it wasn’t any of us,” he declared. “I don’t think,” he added as an after thought.

“I don’t care who did it, but if you want to save your friends, and more importantly your wife, you’d better get outta here and find them, pronto.”

Brad looked at Gemma blankly a moment. He’d almost said he didn’t have a wife, then realised she’d meant Fenny. Guilt ripped through him as he realised he hadn’t given a single thought about her welfare since he’d woken up in England, and now, with Gemma’s words ringing in his ears, he hoped to god she was all right. He thanked Gemma, gave Snuffles a hug, and then fled from the barn in the direction of Claudia’s waiting car.

Greg glanced over the menu, but for some reason Amy’s jovial attitude was doing everything to quell his hunger.

“You think I should have the fish or the chicken?” she asked, mulling over her menu.

“Whatever,” he shrugged.

“How about wine? Do you want wine?” Amy continued with childlike excitement.

“Why the hell are you so happy?” he groused, dropping his menu roughly onto the table.

Amy looked at Greg, her blue eyes twinkling in the dim dining room light. A hint of a smile spread across her lips as she spoke. “What am I happy about? That I’m leading all your friends to their deaths, of course. It’s a fantastic feeling, darling,” she laughed, sending a chill straight down Greg’s spine.