Free Asylum Lake by R. A. Evans Page A

after sunrise to share a bit of scripture with Homer Goode. The longtime church deacon had taken a nasty spill while picking up his pipe tobacco at Dell’s, leaving him with a broken hip and unable to do most anything for himself.
    Normally, the entire family would make the trip across town packed into their tiny green AMC Gremlin. Melody would bring a casserole and do a bit of cleaning while Lionel poured over Homer’s old cigar boxes stuffed with photos and souvenirs from his time overseas fighting the krauts and wops in the First World War. The Reverend had to explain to Lionel what the “krauts and wops”, as Homer so fondly referred to them, were actually the Germans and Italians with whom the allied forces had battled and eventually defeated.
    That final Saturday, however, Melody had a touch of whatever bug was going around and wanted nothing more than to stay in bed. Lionel agreed to stay home with her, against his mother’s wishes, and the elder Collins set off in the Gremlin alone. He had considered staying home himself, as things around the house had been more than a little strained for the past few weeks. Lionel’s newfound sullen attitude had Melody worried, and her own recent mood swings had caused a fair amount of friction between the normally happy couple.
    He pulled away from the curb wishing he could turn the clock back just a few weeks to a time before things had started to unravel at home. Fishing with Lionel, he smiled, thinking of the last time he could remember things being…normal. He sighed as he looked into the rearview mirror and watched his house slowly fade from view.
    The Reverend’s visit with Homer was cut short by the unexpected appearance of Buck Tanner at the door. The Sheriff lived across the lake from Homer and since the old man’s fall the lawman stopped by now and then to check on things. Collins wasn’t anxious to get home, but seeing the view of the lake through Homer’s kitchen window reminded him of that fishing trip with Lionel. Maybe all the boy needs is some father-son time, he thought and then excused himself with a handshake and promise to return the following Saturday. His spirits remained hopeful until he turned onto the street that led home.
    With each passing block his stomach tightened into anxious knots. Just as the white Colonial came into view all his thoughts of a happy ending out on the lake vanished. There was no fairytale ending to this, he knew. Something dark had crept into their lives and its hold over his family was only tightening.
    Collins parked in front of the house and killed the ignition. The minutes ticked by as he sat in the car debating what he would be walking into. Chances were good that Melody would be in a foul mood. Moodiness often followed her headaches. It was a routine that was quickly wearing on him; and Lionel too, as the boy’s moods had been unpredictable, as well Clutching his antique Holman Bible, which dated back to 1865, the family heirloom weighed just over five pounds and was covered with rich gold-embossed leather. The Reverend stepped from the car into the sunshine and let its warmth wash over him.
    The walk from the car to the front door gave him just enough time to collect his thoughts and mutter a brief prayer under his breath. The windows were open throughout the house and he could see the curtains in the front room dance in the late morning breeze. Given the current state of family affairs, he didn’t expect to hear conversation, but was anticipating the monotonous tones of the radio or television. Instead, he was greeted by a near-deafening silence as he opened the screen door. It snapped shut behind him with a sharp bang that echoed throughout the house.
    “Melody,” he called as he walked through the living room and into the kitchen. The remnants of his breakfast still cluttered the counter; half-filled cup of coffee and toast crumbs. He continued on through the house and approached the back stairs leading to the