Sam approached the machine now that the crowd had dissipated. The blood was gone, as if it was never there in the first place. He put his finger to the pipe, the spot where he had touched before, and it was dry. Not even a glimpse of what it was before. Standing up, he turned and looked around the room. The old man that was once in the corner was gone. Will, however, was back at the bar, laughing with the barkeep. Sam shakes his head and walked over to him.
"Will, was there a guy in that corner?" Sam's fingers brushed his forehead.
Will turned and patted Sam on the shoulder. "Guy in the corner? What are you talking about? There hasn't been anyone over there," Will seemed slightly confused.
"I swear there was just this strange guy sitting there. You know, old, beardy, drunk guy?" Will shook his head. Sam's face fell into his hand. "There was someone there, I'm telling you."
"No, there wasn't. You sure you're okay? Did you see anything?" Will looked over at the barkeep who shook his head. "See? Even he agrees."
"Okay, then have you seen Nat?" Sam asked, looking anxious.
"I-uh-actually yes. Yes I did. She's uh-she's at the alley, last I heard. She was looking into some photographer's stuff and was asking about getting her picture taken. You know, girl stuff," Will told him, his eyes looking over Sam's right shoulder.
Sam took a deep breath and tried to relax. If Will was telling the truth, he'd see her later. That meant that he hallucinated that whole scene with the strange old guy, but he could handle that. He'd take a hallucination over losing his sister any day. "Come on, I'll buy you another drink," Will pulls him into the seat beside him. Will motions to the barkeep to make another glass like the one Will has. Sam watched dryly as the barkeep grabbed a small glass and dropped in two cubes of ice. The clink of the ice against the glass felt like it rung inside Sam's ears as he watched the man turn behind him and quickly look for a bottle from behind him. He picked up a glass bottle and unscrewed the cap, popping it open. The amber liquid moved slightly in the large container before it was poured slowly into the small glass. The barkeep poured just enough to cover the ice and slowly slid the glass over to Sam, careful not to spill a drop. Sam picked up the glass and brought it to his lips, tasting the amber liquid. His face scrunched and he shook his head. He placed the glass down carefully, feeling the warmth in his throat.
Will and the barkeep looked at Sam and back to
each other and laughed. Will patted his friend on the back,
encouraging him to take another sip. Sam looked at Will out of the
corner of his eye and took the glass to his lips once more, this time
taking a much larger taste. Sam coughed, the bitter warmth flooding
his core. Will motioned to the barkeep to make more, insisting on
shots. “Come on buddy, my treat,” he said. The barman whipped out
two very small glasses and put them in front of the young men. He
turned and grabbed another bottle this time, a dark bottle with
greenish tint. He poured it for the boys and the coffee-looking
liquid filled both glasses. Sam and Will looked at each other and
then up at the barman, then back to each other, smiling. They each
took their glasses and knocked them back, placing the shot glasses
back on the bar.
Finally Sam leans back, the familiar buzzing
feeling just starting to form in his head. It was relaxing, soothing
to him. For a moment, he felt as though he were elsewhere, not at a
steampunk convention.
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