“Oh fuck. Oh shit. Oh fuck” I mutter while I’m looking down at the water. What looks like 100 feet from up here is probably only ten realistically. But my dad said he used to go fishing on the beach that’s only like two hundred yards away, and I hate fish. Maybe the fish don’t live near this jetty rock I’m jumping from. Or better yet, maybe someone will jump in before me to scare them all away.

...

Driving up a dirt road in a five year old box truck, two men in white shirts and black pants, Drew and Mike, listen to static filled country music on the radio.

They pull up to the site that just 12 hours earlier they were setting up a tent and catering equipment, ready to begin the break-down and pack-up process. However when they arrive, something is a little bit off.

Only two of the plates ...