Nicolas stood on the dusty ground.

I thought to myself about why Jack had ran off, where he planned to go, what he planned to do, now he had as far as I knew, abandoned us here.  I looked over at the black notebook that lay on the ground, thick with dust.

I looked over at Jemma, her face showing false determination, her jaw clenched.  I knew by looking at her that she felt just as lost as I did.  Small, spiky shrubs surrounded the battered Toyota, enveloping it in the wasteland.  Tom looked defeated, facing into the horizon, perhaps willing for his friend to return.  We waited around twenty minutes before we realised he really wasn't coming back. 

Jemma and I prepped the car, packing up the blankets and chairs into the boot, folding away the small plastic table we had hastily assembled earlier in the morning before breakfast.  Tom just continued to stare at the path, as if analysing Jack's damaging footsteps traced in the dirt.  He refused to leave the spot.  I never outright asked him, I just left him there, I could tell he didn't want to go, to give up hope, at least, not yet. 

Soon the Toyota was ready.  I started her up, spluttering momentarily before coming into life.  I turned round and went over to Tom.  I put my arms round him and said:

"We gotta go mate, he's not coming back"

"I don't know maybe he's too scared to come back", Tom said.

"Jack's not scared of much, you know that", I said, staring into his eyes.

And he began to cry.  First a brave lone tear streamed down his tired face.  Then they fell in numbers, faster and faster until the dry ground was wet beneath his feet. I hugged him, told him that everything was okay.  He buried his face in my shoulder, his nails digging into my back.  His entire body started to shake.  I hugged him even tighter.  Minutes passed and gradually the shaking subsided.  I led him, one hand on this back, the other at my side, into the back seat of the car.

Jemma said she'd drive.  I spent half and hour in the backseat with Tom, holding him, telling him it's going to be okay.  The shaking started as soon as we started moving, screaming at the top of his lungs before whimpering and exploded into another round of tears.  I comforted him, until finally, he fell asleep.

I looked out of the dirty window, watching as we passed field after bland, boring field and soon we hit a proper road.  The roads were relatively deserted, with very few people willing to sacrifice their lie ins in exchange for the masses of dirt and dust.  I wondered what Jack was doing, where he was.  I took out the notebook, brushing it off, rubbing my finger against it's oranged pages, thinking.  Just thinking.