Asylum

Prologue Lyle Bransom (22 years ago) "Daddy!" The cry woke Karl Bransom from a deep sleep and even deeper dreams. For a moment he was not sure where he was, confused by the horrible nightmares. Something was not normal, something was wrong with this night. What had woken him? "Daddy!" The cry grabbed his attention instantly. It was Lyle. Becky stirred at his side, but did not wake. From the timid mewing sounds and the sudden jerk of her leg she must have been lost in the same type of dreams the Karl had just escaped. He was about to wake her when the cry came again, this time louder. "Daddy!" It had a desperation to it that twisted his stomach with concern and fear. He swung his legs off his bed and sprang to the door, not bothering with robe or slippers. His foot slammed painfully into the bedpost. "Damn it!" He ignored the pain and stumbled out of his bedroom. His son’s door was only five steps down the hallway. He reached out and switched on the hall light. The brightness momentarily blinded him and squinting, he pushed open Lyle’s door. The light spilled in, partially illuminating the room. His son lay on the bed covers drawn up to his chin. His face was calm, but his eyes moved about nervously. There was no intruder, no fire, or any other cause for immediate concern. Karl glanced around as his eyes adjusted to confirm there was no danger looming in the room. "What’s wrong?" he asked. "There is something in my closet." He spoke in a quiet, matter-of-fact voice, as though surprised that his father had to ask. Karl smiled and chuckled. All the fear and nervous anxiety evaporated. The adrenaline that had pushed him so quickly was gone and left only weak knees and a throbbing foot. There was a monster in his closet. It was cliché and it made him laugh even harder. "Something in your closet huh?" Karl asked. "Yes, in the shadows." He walked over and sat down on the bed with Lyle. "Look buddy, there is nothing in the closet that is going to hurt you. Unless you count the skateboard you fell off of yesterday. That was a nasty bump." His father’s humor did not lighten Lyle’s mood. He shook his head and the fear grew stronger in his eyes. "It doesn’t want to hurt me. It likes me and needs me." "Then what did it want?" "It wants to kill you." The knot returned to his stomach. "Kill me, huh? Why would you say something like that? That is not nice." He paused and looked down at his son, his voice softened. "Why would you say that? Do you want me to go away?" There had been arguments lately, maybe more than there should be between him and his wife. They had tried to hide it from Lyle, but there was no way they could hide everything. Perhaps somewhere along the way he had picked up on some things said that should not have been. Lyle said nothing as he looked past his father and into the shadows of the closet. He nodded, as if giving a signal or maybe permission. So intent was his son that Karl spun his head around. There was nothing but an open closet door and darkness beyond. Angered by his fear and foolishness, he stood up and went to the closet. "There is nothing here. No creatures, no boogey man, no goddamned monsters. What the hell is wrong with you . . .?" His back was to the closet as he yelled at his son and that had been a mistake. A hand, cold, slick and larger than any human hand grasped the base of his skull. Fingers with bony knuckles dug into his scalp and neck. A sound that was a grotesque mixture of the keening wail of a banshee and the desperate hunger cries of a newborn baby came from the creature that held him. The grip was strong and he could not turn to look at his attacker. If he could have he would have seen the slick and shiny black face, he would have seen the mouth surrounded by sharp needle thin teeth distending toward him, and a long, thick tongue stretching out before it. Claws from the creature's hand cut through flesh and ground against bone as it pulled him like a child’s doll to its mouth. Another hand clamped down on his face. A warm, viscous organic substance coating the creature's skin filled his mouth and he choked on the screams that had formed on his lips. No sound came from him now, only a sickening gagging noise. Karl struggled feebly against the creature's grip, clawing at its fingers. The thing's tongue invaded him. Like some weird parody of an intimate lover's kiss, the tongue plunged into Karl’s ear. Karl began to heave fluids up from his stomach as he felt the slick caress on his flesh. The tongue was not content with a mere taste however, and began to tear through flesh, burrowing deeper into his head. The creature’s teeth clamped down on the back of his head. Then, in one quick crunch, it crushed brain and skull with its powerful jaws and Karl mercifully knew no more. The room was dark, the sounds of struggle replaced with the satisfied munching sound of eating: wet sounds as flesh was pulled away from bone. Something warm and moist splattered on Lyle’s face as he sat shivering on the bed in a cooling puddle of urine. "Daddy?" Part I The Hospital