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Standing inside the open garage, Collin adjusted his grip on the hunting rifle and tried to act like it wasn’t his first time holding a g*n. The g*n was heavy, and Collin wondered if that came from the polished wooden stock or the long, black barrel of the weapon. The safety was securely on, but he wasn’t taking any chances. He kept his finger tucked into his fist, far away from the trigger.
The other three hunters stood a few feet away, forming a loose triangle pointing away from Collin where rifles, handguns, and a single compound bow lined the wall. Like Collin, the three men wore matching woodland camouflage uniforms of puffy jackets, baggy pants, and hunting hats, but unlike Collin, their uniforms looked worn and faded instead of stiff and shiny.
Collin tried to remind h
