Hollow

Chapter Seven - The Feeder

"What are we doing here?" the boy asks as we enter a small empty bar, cigarette smoke hangs in the air and places a cloud over everything.

"Sit down." I tell him as I take a seat on one of the stained faux velvet covered bar stools and gesture for the bartender who is staring up at the small television over the bar as a news program reports about Hollow's.

"I'll be right with you." He calls out not looking over as he watches the program with interest as they invite a doctor to give his professional opinion.

I listen to his words.

"In my professional opinion Hollow's are a plague on the world, they are a pandemic that has been set out on the world and they are spreading their disease where ever they go. They even have follower's now...actual groups of humans who treat these things as though they are sent from God!" He bellows in his deep southern accent then throws his hands up dramatically. The bar tender chuckles and nods along with the man on the TV.

"We should be wiping out this plague! We should be using all our power to get rid of this scorn that the devil has sent us to try and test our love and faith in our Lord and Saviour. We need to unite as brothers in arms to defeat the menace that is the scourge in our nation." There is a loud applause from the television audience and I wait for it to quieten before I clear my throat.

The bar tender looks over at us then quickly changes the channel to a baseball game.

"What can I get for you?" he asks hurrying over to the bar nervously.

"Three house bourbon's, neat" I tell the bartender. He nods and takes out three shot glasses, his fingers fumbling them slightly then begins pouring them with one quick movement spilling a few drops on the bar mat.

"I told you, I don't drink." the boy interjects as the bar tender nods and quickly busies himself in wiping his already clean benches.

"You agreed." I remind him, setting one glass in front of him.

He looks down at it for a moment then at me. He sighs heavily and drinks the shot down in one swallow. He coughs and screws up his face and shakes his head, setting the empty glass down and blinking his eyes.

"God," He mutters

"And another," I say setting the next in front of him.

He turns to me with a flicker of defiance is in his eyes, but then he sighs and drinks it down a little easier.

"May I ask why you are trying to get me drunk?" he asks resting his elbows on the bar and looking at me. The bartender eyes wander to me and the boy, glancing between the two of us, so many questions on his lips and fears in his eyes.

"Two drinks will not get you drunk." I answer "Last one." I say pushing the last one towards him.

He makes a face of disgust but swallows it down quickly and pushes the empty glass away.

"Three drinks however, will help dull your soul while at the same time keeping you lucid enough to do as your told and not something reckless."

"Is it working?" he asks scrunching his eyes together like he was trying to make a wish. I haven't let go of my feelers since I bound them two days ago, but I knew that in order to test my theory I need to see for myself. The theory of alcohol dulling a soul was proven, but I knew that his soul was not the ordinary and perhaps three drinks wouldn't be enough.

I take a deep breath then carefully release one feeler, just enough so that it will sense only this room. His soul is the first I feel, and even though it is still glowing with life, it is duller, and it continues to weaken ever slightly.