Depends on your viewpoint

Molina had pushed Milo into the passenger's seat.

"Stay!" he commanded, as to a disobedient dog.

Milo, still tripping heavily but utterly spent, sat obedient, and finally nodded off in spite of the stone. He woke sometime later with a bump, as he had already become used to doing on many buses. After a moment of disorientation, he heard the deep thrum of what he took to be the van's motor, and out of habit concluded that Lenore was driving. Then he remembered where they were.

Milo had learned, the last few months, not to open his eyes too fast. Lately, he never knew what he'd see there.

He realized he was still pretty high, so braced for the worst.

As he gingerly peeked out under his eyelashes, he was sure he felt some sort of yawing motion. Milo's stomach came unstuck. He considered losing the fistful of saltines Lenore had given him before they'd frog-marched him to the van. The old Grumman seemed to be negotiating a long curve, banked decidedly to the right. Milo got the feeling they were moving fast. The windshield was like dark solid marble. He could make out nothing at all until he glimpsed down through the passenger side window. A full moon rolled high overhead, and he could just make out ghostly pale landforms below. Far below.

He considered puking again.

Then he saw a grid of terraced, tightly connected stone squares and rectangles, rambling across mountainous contours. The soft ice-cream top of a mountain that he recognized from an old childhood picture atlas as Huayna Picchu hove into view. The van's floor pitched gently, and it scudded to port to avoid striking the crest.

"Machu Picchu," murmured Milo to himself, barely aware that he'd made the connection, or spoken.

"Beautiful isn't it?" drawled Callie from the side of her mouth. She sat squarely at the wheel, slouched like a long-haul trucker who had been driving all her life. For the occasion, she was smoking a blue cigarette, long ash dangling preciptiously, and wearing a peaked mesh cap emblazoned with with a Mack bulldog logo.

"Are we...?" Milo trailed off.

"Flying?" Callie finished. "Hmmm. Depends on your viewpoint."