“Bullshit. Our fucking brother is missing and I’m gonna have to drag your ass around all night while you withdraw.”
Calvin squeezed out the last drops of what was in his stomach.
“Do whatever you want. I just want to find him,” Calvin looked up at me from behind glassy eyes and mumbled.
“Well let’s go then,” I declared and stomped away in the sand, back in the direction of the four-wheeler track.
I tried to seem indignant, but still shot a look over my shoulder to make sure Calvin was following me. He was, about five yards behind me, I could see him stumbling out of the corner of my eye.
I had no real plan, but figured if Roger wasn’t back at the campsite that he was either somewhere around the track or the ocean. Hopefully the track. The Pacific was an unforgiving bitch on cold October nights and if Roger found his way in there for some reason, it was very unlikely he was going to make his way back out.