My Brother Disappeared Along The Oregon Coast, And I Think Whatever Took Him Is After My Whole Family

“I’m just going to go up and down the track and then up and down the beach again and look for him. You should stay here in case he comes back.”

I watched Calvin fall down onto his stomach and retch a little bit more then spit out the last foamy contents of his stomach.

“That’s cool,” Calvin mumbled.

I knew Calvin would work his way to his feet as soon as I left, stumble over to the truck, find his bag and get loaded. I knew it was wrong, but it was right at the moment. He was going to be out of commission either way, so I might as well make sure he was out of commission and probably not going to die from withdrawal.

The usual feeling of power which surged over me once I jumped up onto my four wheeler and fired the ignition failed to ignite in my bones. I usually felt like a Viking approaching a helpless village once I got onto the stout vehicle, but all of that confidence was gone. It’s kind of hard to think of yourself as a badass when all you can picture in your head is your brother drowning in the dark waves of the ocean.

With a knot of fear building in the back of my skull like a headache from a bad hangover, I flicked my headlight on and headed back onto the dark path of the racing course all alone. A frigid wind greeted me as soon as I hit the throttle and whipped up underneath the lining of my jacket and shivered my soft skin.

About the author

Jack Follman

Jack has written professionally as a journalist, fiction writer, and ghost writer. For more information, visit his website.

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