After the truck disappeared, Beck crawled to his feet and caught his breath. His ribs ached. It hurt to breathe. He struggled over to Parry and shook him.
“What the hell?” Parry’s voice was thick with sleep.
“Wake up. We were just robbed.”
Parry sat up and rubbed his eyes. “Robbed?”
“How should I know?”
“What did they look like?”
“I don’t know,” Beck said, recalling the snake tattoo. “Like criminals.”
“What did they take?”
“Our wallets. I’m not sure what else.”
They dug through the mess, found a flashlight, and surveyed the damage. Gear was strewn all over, the truck’s windshield shattered, the stereo and other electronics gone. Six surfboards remained hidden under the truck unscathed.
“Dammit,” Parry said. “All my cash was in my wallet.”
“You didn’t have a stash?”
Beck reached under the dashboard and removed a pouch from behind the glove compartment. “I hid some money.”
“Few hundred, give or take.”
“You stash any credit cards?”
Parry shook his head.
“How did you sleep through the whole thing?”
“Beer and burritos, man. Like a sedative.”
Beck studied the darkness, afraid of what might lurk there. He wanted to get the hell out. Now. But they’d gotten lost in broad daylight and nighttime navigating on the splintered network of dirt roads and steep cliffs might prove disastrous. It was safer to wait until morning.
Or so he hoped.