The Road Within Page #3

They have to eat.

- What are you doing?

- Looking to see if there's a Subway restaurant

- near that gas station.

- Subway?

That's the only place Alex will eat

because they wear gloves.

You realize this is pointless?

They can be anywhere by now.

- No, they can't.

- Why not?

Because it's raining.

That's the highest setting.

But I can make it slower, if you like.

- Put that out.

- Make me.

- Hey, how much money do we have left?

- Like, six dollars.

- Marie can live off that for a week.

- Will you leave her alone?

Would you like a...

A bite of my sandwich?

No thanks.

Maybe my... fatty.

Sorry.

- Maybe my chips?

- No.

- Pickle?

- Jesus f***ing Christ, leave me alone.

All right, all right.

- You have got to be kidding.

- What?

- Clean that up!

- F***.

Wipe your hands before you touch

everything with those greasy fingers.

- And all the yelling and smoking...

- Hey!

...shall henceforth take place

outside of the car.

- Alex. F***. Oi, f***.

- I said out!

F***. F***.

Come on!

Sh*t.

Oh, f***.

Don't mind him. He really does

have a f***ing stick up his ass.

Hey, what's in the can?

My mother.

She's the one that needs

to go to the ocean?

Sh*t.

Where's Marie?

Peeing. Puking. I don't know.

Holy Tin Man wants a heart.

This is ridiculous.

That guy said they asked

about a lake, right?

And this being the only lake

in this sh*t town,

I suppose they gotta be somewhere

around here, right?

It stopped raining 30 minutes ago.

They're gone.

Five missed calls, sh*t.

Oh, my God.

- What?

- It's them.

Okay, okay. Now let's just

approach them calmly and quietly.

- Vincent!

- Or not.

Vincent!

- Vincent.

- Alex?

- Dr. Rose?

- Dad?

- Get over here, now!

- What now?

Vincent, get over here.

Kiss my ass.

- Now he's just f***ing with me.

- Calm down.

Where's Marie?

What are you doing?

Marie. Sh*t.

Marie. Marie.

Marie? Where are you?

- We have to go.

- What?

- We have to go.

- Okay. What's going on?

My f***ing dad.

Alex, get in the car.

Alex, get in the f***ing car.

Alex!

Get out.

- Now.

- Don't touch me.

Where are your things?

F***... in the... c*nt.

F***.

Let's go. Get out there.

I try to be the nice guy,

and this is the thanks I get.

Are you okay?

I think.

Have you had anything to drink?

That's a great thing about you.

I can always count on you to fail.

That's...

- Yes?

- That's... That's not...

F***... Not...

See, you can't even finish

that sentence.

Get in.

Vincent!

- Hey, stop!

- What?

Where do you think you're going?

You're just going to leave us standing here?

- You have a car.

- But I don't have my phone.

Your phone.

Your phone.

F***.

Here's your goddamn phone.

Hey!

Next time...

don't give me a roommate.

Alex!

- Wait! Wait.

- Alex, come on.

- Come on.

- Piss hands, piss hands.

Okay, okay. Just get in the f***ing car.

- We did it.

- The car is so clean.

And no cigarette smell.

I like your father.

- Well, you can... Have him.

- I like him, I like him.

- We're gonna crash.

- Vincent.

- We're gonna crash.

- What are you doing?

- Vincent, stop ticcing. Stop ticcing.

- We're heading off the road.

Sh*t. Stop, Vincent.

You guys thought I was a bad driver.

I'm sorry. Are you okay?

Sweet Fanny Adams.

I'll let you drive.

Vincent's running away

now makes complete sense.

- Mind your own damn business.

- I am.

That young woman is sick

and needs to eat.

Yeah, well, I was supposed

to give a speech three hours ago,

and instead I'm in the middle

of a lake looking for froggy keys

with a shitty doctor

who's less capable than my son.

Now you're projecting.

- What?

- Projecting.

Calling me a shitty doctor to make up

for the fact that you're a shitty father.

Oh, yeah, you got me figured out? Too bad

I was paying you to figure out Vincent.

This is ridiculous.

I'm calling Triple A.

- MBrace.

- What?

- My car has MBrace.

- Good for you.

No, you peasant.

It means I can track it with my phone.

My phone. My phone.

No, no, no, no, no, no.

Now what? I left my phone in the car.

- The car's right there.

- My car.

Please say your destination.

- The ocean.

- Location not found.

You can't just say ocean. You have to

tell it the name by the name of the beach.

- I don't know the name.

- Why doesn't that surprise me?

- Okay, what's a city near a beach?

- Los Angeles.

- Destination Los Angeles.

- No. No, we're not going to Los Angeles.

That place is a cesspool

of communicable diseases.

- Colon cancer rots your ass hole.

- There are closer beaches, anyway.

What about San Francisco?

- You would say that.

- Shut up.

Shut up? Really?

Why don't you make me shut up, Alex?

Oh, wait, that means

you have to touch me.

Touch those repulsive bird arms,

no thank you.

Oh, I'm a bird? I'm a little baby bird?

- Get away from me, I'm driving.

- Somebody tell it where the f*** we're going.

I don't know, f*** it, I've been

to Santa Cruz. Let's just go there.

- What the hell?

- Hell is for horses.

What the f***?

- Alex, what is happening right now?

- The car. I felt it run over something.

It was a person. Sweet Fanny Adams,

I don't want to go to prison.

Wow, you are way more f***ed up

than I thought you were.

Alex. Stop. You didn't run over anyone.

- It was... It was a pothole.

- No, I'm sure I did, and I...

Probably a pregnant woman,

and I killed the baby, too.

No. No, no, no. You didn't kill anyone.

- No pregnant lady. No baby.

- Just shut up and look around for a body.

Come on.

I don't see a dead body.

No. Not over here either.

Oh, my God.

There it is.

Where?

- Where?

- Over there.

In the middle of the road.

Wait. At... At like 12 o'clock?

More like... More like 1 o'clock.

I don't see it. I don't see the body.

Exactly.

Because you hit a f***ing pothole.

Shotgun.

You all right?

I'm sorry, guys.

I really thought I hit someone.

Yeah, well, I think I'm fat.

So, I guess we all have issues.

Where the f*** is that coming from?

- Hello?

- You all pleased with yourselves?

- Mr. Rhodes.

- F***.

- Hey, how's it goin'?

- F***ing peachy.

I'm sorry to hear that.

What can I... what can I do you for, man?

- Let me talk to my son.

- One second.

I can't... I can't talk to him.

- He doesn't want to f***ing talk to you.

- Put him on the phone!

I don't think he's going to change his mind

just because you're saying it louder.

I'm going to report the car stolen, and the

cops will track you and have you arrested.

He says he's gonna report

the car stolen.

And the cops can track us.

We'll probably be arrested.

I'm going to get deported.

Nah. He won't do it.

- How do you know?

- Because he won't risk the bad press.

- Trust me.

- You sure?

I'm... absolutely. Absolutely.

F***. What's his first name?

- Robert.

- Robert.

Robbie? Hey, can I...

Do you mind if I call you Robbie?

Great, thanks. So we really

appreciate the head's up,

but I think we're just going

to take our chances.

Yeah, if I see a cop,

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