Carson drove his father’s car home from an early Friday morning game of flag football. He was joined in the car by two of his best friends, Pete and Ray. Pete, the dominant and competitive personality he is, insisted on riding shotgun every time he rode with Carson. There, he could fiddle with the radio with ease, the consummate DJ, ensuring that there was always something Metal pumping through the speakers. Pete played on the varsity football team with Carson, his favorite target in a tight end. Pete’s solid athletic ability translated into a hell of a runner, although he didn’t look like much: at five foot ten, he wasn’t the tallest player on the team, but he may be the most popular with the girls at school. Sure, Carson got his fair share of attention, it was just that he wasn’t gifted with the angelic good looks of his friend.
Ray also played, a left tackle, on varsity. He was big, six-foot-four, and thick with muscles. Carson found it peculiar that Ray was such a gentle and soft-spoken guy off the field, when on the field he protects the quarterback with a zeal typically found in knights swept up in holy crusades. Carson, as the star quarterback on the team transitioning into his senior year of High School, wouldn’t have anyone else watching his back. Due to his girth and lack of, well, caring, he always rode in the back seat, and was content.
Carson concentrated on the road, his muscles aching from the intense game of flag football he had played with the rest of the team. School had just let out for the summer, and practice for the fall season wouldn’t begin for another few months, so they like to meet and play a couple times a week to keep in shape. As was typical after a game, he, Pete, and Ray would head to his house for a little rest and relaxation. Neither Pete nor Ray had a 50’ flat screen, which Carson’s father had bought so that his children wouldn’t feel the need to come down to the basement and watch on his big screen there.
Carson pulled into his driveway, hit the garage door button attached to the sun visor above him, and pulled into the crowded garage. Most of his father’s odds and ends that didn’t fit in the basement, as well as extra tools and boxes of his notes were stacked haphazardly in the small garage. Half filled, there was barely enough room for the car to fit, and Carson dreaded the day his mother decided enough was enough and told him to clean it out. Carson found he was always stuck with the chores around the house, and began to resent his sisters and their lack of helping. Sure, his mother expected him to do the grueling physical work, but a little help from time to time would have been nice. Alice was always studying or working on a project, having acquired her work ethic from their father, and Faith acted like she was allergic to house work, always off with her friends. Carson didn’t particularly mind when she brought them over, however; especially that girl Kyra. He would never admit it, seeing as how she was his little sister’s best friend, but he had a thing for her, and in high school, a year wasn’t that huge of a difference in age. He thought maybe, sometime, he might have a chance with her.
Carson climbed out of the car, with Ray and Pete following him. Entering the house through the door in the garage, he entered into the kitchen. As soon as he walked in, he saw that his father was asleep on the couch in the living room; he had still been working in the early hours of the morning when Carson had left, and glancing at the clock on the kitchen stove, Carson saw that it was almost noon. He figured that his father would be asleep for a while, and once he was asleep, he was a heavy sleeper. Must be a side effect of staying up for days at a time, thought Carson, with a hint of resentment. Although he and his father were very different people, Carson wished that his father paid more attention to him, maybe even come to a game to see him play. He hadn’t come once. The disinterest, however, wasn’t reciprocal: Carson really wished that his father would share his experiments, or even let him know what he was working on. He was always so secretive, shooing him away when he would come down to see what he was working on.
Pete and Ray had also seen Sam on the couch asleep, and while silent, they had taken steps to raid the fridge. Typical, thought Carson. Just living the stereotype of teenage boys. At that moment, however, Carson had other ideas.
“Hey, guys, stop stuffing your face for a second and follow me.” Carson whispered to his two friends, both of who were already shoving handfuls of last night’s baked chicken into their mouths.
Carson immediately began to tip-toe down the basement stairs, and although Ray and Pete shared a confused look and stared longingly at the baked chicken in the fridge, they nodded to each other, closed the refrigerator door and followed close behind Carson has he descended the stairs. They knew that the basement was typically off limits and were definitely eager for a chance to check out whatever mad experiment Carson’s father was working on.
Carson, however, was motivated by more than just curiosity. He resented his father constantly keeping him and the rest of the family in the dark about what he spent all his time on. What is so important that it would keep a man from his family? Carson knew his father would never voluntarily share with him the most important aspect of his life. So, here he was: sneaking down the stairs as his father slept in the living room just to take a peak at what could be worth alienating your only son.
Pete and Ray picked up on the seriousness that Carson was treating their current adventure with, and abstained from cracking any jokes. They followed along behind him, quiet as they could, although Ray’s girth caused the wood stairs to creak as if in pain. After an especially loud creak Carson looked back at Ray with a look that seemed to say, “Be less fat.” Ray simply shrugged; there was nothing he could do about his size.
The three teenagers reached the bottom of the stairs, turning into the basement proper, and crept along like comically inept burglars. This was the first time either Ray or Pete had been down in the basement, and it was a strange sight to behold. It was large, easily twice the size of any other room in the house, and seemingly divided into two mindsets: work and relaxation. The first half of the room, closest to the bottom of the stairs and currently what they were silently creeping through, was relaxation. An entertainment center took up a large portion of one wall, with a fifty-two inch plasma screen hanging from a wall hookup overtop of it. Setting in front of the entertainment center was a large couch, obviously old and very worn, made of what seemed to be frayed gray cloth. An equally aged coffee table sat in front of it, holding a few books concerning various scientific disciplines. A large white shag rug covered the majority of this half of the room, muffling their footsteps as they tramped across.
The second half of the room was much different. The shag rug gave way to hard gray cement. Work tables lined the walls on two sides, forming an L of random metal parts, tools, a computer work station, and messy piles of folders with loose sheets of paper working their way out in a chaotic mess. A couple large trashcans piled with scraps of metal stood underneath the stairs, half hidden in shadows. In the center of the room, however, was what appeared to be a large object covered in a white sheet.
Carson paused before the hidden project, working up the courage to unveil it. Underneath this sheet was his father’s life’s work, whatever it might be. Ray and Pete stood on either side of Carson, gazing at the mysterious object. After about a minute, Pete’s impatience prompted him to whisper, “Well…are we gonna stare at it all day, or are you gonna take a fuckin peak, man?”
Carson cast an annoyed look over at Pete, but realized he was right. Carson didn’t know when his father might wake up and if he found them down here, he would flip shit. It was now or never. With a quick intake of air, Carson fought through his trepidation and shot a hand out, pulling off the sheet to unveil the machine. He then let out a shocked gasp, his mouth dropping open in alarm. Then, Pete spoke the words that summed up what Carson was thinking, considering the size and shape of his father’s machine.
“Dude, your Dad made a fucking Death Ray!”