Walking over to the closest crate I pull out the gun resting on top, its a AK74 rifle. The serial code has been scratched off so that it is no longer visible and the barrel looks unused. What are these kinds of guns doing here? I stand there holding the gun thinking of all the possible reasons that my father could have had crates of rifles and who knows what else hidden underneath our family shed. A wolf whistle comes from somewhere off to he side and I allow my eyes to tear themselves away from the gun and find Trey holding a black desert eagle, his eyes seem to glimmer as he stares at it - almost like he is admiring it. He notices me staring at him and hastily puts the gun down, nervously re-adjusting his hat. I half walk, half jog over to the other side of the room to where the computer
