we're not on the map but we're on our way

1/3

No one will argue with him here.

There is a helicopter buzzing along the Grand Canyon, carrying tourists that are willing to pay the ridiculous ticket prices for it. Ryan lifts his arm, holding his hand like a gun and aims for the helicopter. He squints his eyes, flicks his finger and says, "Boom."

Jon leans against the railing, looking down into the canyon with a cigarette between his lips. He has been trying to stop smoking since he was sixteen.

The boy is in the building that stands in the middle of the gigantic parking area full of busses and caravans and cars. Jon's red Ford dating from the mid-nineties looks pathetically out of date between a hybrid and a 2006 BMW, but Jon doesn't care for that sort of thing. He isn't fond of that many things in the world, but he is fond of his car.

Ryan keeps glaring at the tourists with their sunglasses and cameras and their obnoxiously loud children. Some are Japanese, some European, Ryan doesn't bother to try and distinguish between the countries of the Old World. Most of them are American.

"So fucking different, man," Ryan sighs. "None of this shit was here the last time. Man can sell anything if he wants to. It's sad. It's sad this is what the world has become."

"Yeah," Jon agrees and throws the rest of his cigarette over the railing, hundreds of feet down.

They have bonded in their own way. They don't understand each other, but they have bonded.

"So what do you think of our new talent?" Ryan asks, nodding vaguely towards the Grand Canyon Center, which offers a tiny bit of geological information, fifteen different types of souvenir t-shirts, and the diner's special is the Grand Canyon Mega Burger.

"I don't," Jon replies, and it's true. The boy in the back is paying one third of the gas. That's just about as interested as Jon is about the kid.

"How old do you think he is?" Ryan wonders more to himself than Jon.

"Seventeen," Jon guesses.

They both wonder if they have a runaway in the backseat. The boy doesn't say much, but oozes a nervous edge. The kid didn't say where he was going, but he seems determined to keep moving, which is fine with Ryan and Jon.

"Come on, let's grab some food," Ryan finally says.

Jon follows him in the shirt he is wearing fourth day in a row, but he has learned not to be picky about hygiene. He considers buying a Grand Canyon t-shirt just to annoy Ryan, but he doesn't have that kind of money.

They find the boy in the small shop, and Ryan grabs a basket to throw stuff in. They never eat anything of real substance; instead they live on chocolate, Skittles, fizzy juices, chips. Jon also grabs a few beers, because it's Ryan's turn to drive now. At the counter, the total comes up to $18.32. Ryan and Jon both go through their pockets, trying to smoothen out crumpled notes and count the quarters, when the kid reaches over them, handing the cashier a fifty. He receives surprised looks from his companions, but doesn't react.

"Let's fill up the tank before we go," Jon suggests, and Ryan nods agreeingly. They can still drive for a few hours, and, if Ryan is up to it, they can drive into the night. It saves them from having to look for a place to sleep.

When the three of them make their way back to the car, they find a boy there, leaning against the dusty side idly, fiddling with a phone. Jon frowns and asks, "What are you doing?"

Startled, the kid jumps slightly and blinks. "Oh. Uh. Sorry, this your car?" he asks and receives a nod. "Sorry then," the kid says and gives them a sheepish grin. "The, uh... Didn't dare to lean on any of the others ones."