Chapter 1: The Governor's Daughter

Yay! There's finally a Wolf Creek section!

As always, I don't own any characters but my own!

The sun was closing in on its daily performance, only a few hours remained of daylight until the bright moon would overtake the vast, lonely land of the Australian Outback. The old extended cab pick-up truck spun into the old gas station that doubled as a bar for weary men that traversed the arid land. Two men jumped out of the back of the truck, unaware that a hunter watched them carefully from inside the bar, while two other men pulled up to the gas station to fill their truck up.

The leader of the group, Jackie Johnson, slammed the driver door closed as loud as he could. A small scratch cut across his cheek from where his stolen prize had lashed out at him before they had learned that she was better manageable under the influence of morphine. The tall man of twenty-seven wore a stained white wife beater and simple black slacks. Sunglasses sat upon his long, bent nose that would remind a person with significant pop culture knowledge of Owen Wilson. Swastikas and racial tattoos danced upon his tight, tanned, muscular biceps. His younger brother Johnny, similar in looks, pulled himself out of the bed of the truck along with their longtime partner in crime, Brent Tyler.

Johnny Johnson was the rocker of the family. His hair was dyed black and he was lanky. ICP tattoos danced up his forearm, the words FUCK were tattooed across his knuckles on his left hand and HEAD on the other. He had looked up to his brother his entire life.

Brent Tyler had been their longtime friend. He'd been in jail multiple times for drug possession with intent to sell while in med school in California where he'd found that he enjoyed life looking as if he lived out on the beach. He looked to be the stereotypical Cali beach boy from an old 80s teen TV show. He had a slight twitch that would occur when he had forgotten to take his medicine or when his paranoia would get the better of him. The drugs, he had learned, had helped fight off those paranoid feelings.

"Last gas station for a while," Jackie announced with a large smile, he held a faint hint of a stereotypical Australian accent, "if you gotta take a shit, you better do it now because I ain't stopping until we get to-"

"Is she going to be okay out here," the soft voice of the man that had rode in the passenger seat asked as he looked to the blonde woman that lay unconscious in their back seat.

"Bitch is going to be fine," Jackie said as he looked to Milton Esparza, their unwilling, chunky participant in their crime.

Milton Esparza had been the one put in charge of making sure the girl stayed alive. The married man from Cuba had been put in charge of keeping Jessica Muldoon, the only daughter of the Alabama governor, from hurting them or herself. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose as he looked to the ground in shame as he thought of the role he played in kidnapping her and allowing the abuse to continue longer than it should have.

"Did you shoot her up again," Johnny asked Brent as they walked towards the store.

"Yeah bro," Brent answered with his practiced beach bum accent, "She's out for a few more hours."

"We'll go in and get a drink before we go on," Jackie informed the group, he turned to Milton and ordered, "You can come on in with us. She's out. She ain't going anywhere, Milt. Enjoy yourself!"

The group of men left Jessica alone in the truck as they entered the dark and cool bar. Dirty men sat at tables and drunk their chosen sins as they spoke inappropriately of women, of the damned weather, and the dirty tourists that were flocking into their country. A television stood above the bar where several other men, including Mick Taylor, sat with cold beers in hand.

"Four beers," Jackie demanded of the lanky sister of the store owner who was busy trying to unclog the toilets in the back. He gave her a smile as he swatted at a flying pest that buzzed by his ear. Flies flew around the bar and landed upon old newspaper clippings of UFO sightings, dingo attacks, and missing travelers, along with a head line about a farmer getting lost on his own property.

Milton felt uncomfortable as he sat at the bar beside a man clad in red flannel and an old, dusty cowboy hat. He could smell the sweat that radiated from the men that inhabited the bar.

"We're back," the talking head on the television announced, "and we are still talking about the disappearance of Jessica Muldoon, the daughter of Alabama's governor."

Milton jerked his head up to the television and his eyes bugged out slightly as he took in the photograph of their captive. She was smiling in her picture. Her blonde hair seemed white in the bright sunlight, her eyes were the lightest shade of green, and her smile was bright as she held a baby hyena cub in her arms. A white cowboy hat kept the sun out of her eyes.

"Jessica Muldoon, a native to South Africa, has been reported missing by her father who had paid for her holiday in Australia after a series of unfortunate events occurred within the reserve that the Muldoon family works at," the reporter announced, "Sources have confirmed that she was approached by several men that have been caught on camera in front of a popular bar in Sydney. It has not been confirmed if this is considered a ransom attempt or not. Authorities are imploring for anyone with information to come forward."

"Shit," Brent whispered and looked to Jackie as he sucked down his beer, "It's already on TV! Our faces are gonna be everywhere! They've got the technology to do that shit! I'm tellin' you man! They know we got her!"

"Shut up Brent," Johnny hissed into his friend's ear as he looked up to the television.

Mick Taylor looked up at the television after overhearing the young man's worried tone. The woman's photograph flashed once more alongside her father's.

"Alabama governor was given grief, and almost lost the election, because of the discovery of a child out of wedlock that had not been born inside of the United States," another anchor informed his viewing audience, "The two have been seen together only a few times. It seems that the family bond isn't as strong when an ocean needs to be crossed."

Mick smirked as he made his way out of the small bar and towards his own truck. He pulled his truck beside theirs and pretended to get gas. He peered into the back of the car where he could see the bruised face of the unconscious girl from South Africa. She was beaten, but she still resembled the beauty in the photograph. Her hands were bound together by plastic ties; he could see the black outline of a tattoo on her right wrist but he could not make out what it was. Her lip had been busted from a fight and he could see blood caked under her nails from clawing at her captors like a wild cat. Her white button up dress fell at her mid-thigh where blood stained her skin. Her cowboy boots were scuffed as if she had tried to fight them off of her when the attack first occurred.

He looked away from her and to the environment around him with powerful, observant eyes that could send a shiver down a crocodile's spine. He smiled as wicked thoughts filled his mind. He leaned down, hidden away from spying eyes, and removed the air cap on the back tire. They wouldn't notice the leak until it was too late and he would arrive willing to escort them.

He hopped back into his truck with a knowing laugh.

He'd found his next big game to hunt.

Short chapter, I know, but I hope you are interested! Reviews make me unbelievably happy and keep me motivated! I have the outline ready for this story, but I'm always changing things here and there! Your input is always great in polishing the outline :)