Hatch
I gave the window one more tap, and trying to remain as quiet as possible, but loud enough for the thief to hear me, said, “Wake up, fucker, we’ve got you surrounded.” This finally got his attention. He shot out of bed, hitting his head squarely on the cab’s ceiling, sending him straight back to the mattress, and wincing in pain.
“Put your hands where I can see ’em,” I said a little louder.
“What the f**k, man? What the hell is going on here?” he asked as he sat up, clearly in a daze.
I could finally see the thief clearly but could barely believe what I was seeing. Santa Claus had stolen our truck.
“Who is it?” Ace called down.
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
“Hey man, where am I?” Santa asked in a half lucid, gravelly tone.
“How about you just put your hands where
