Silver Sahara

Chapter 6: Kiera's Guns

Rich knocks upon the Barn door.

"What do you want?" Kiera opens the door swiftly. Her body freezes seeing Rich standing at the door.

Rich smiles. "Jay said I should come over to help you."

Kiera nervously looks around. With a red face, she waves Rich into the barn.

"Thank you! How can I help?"

"You... you can just hand me items when I tell you to hand me em." Kiera stutters. She walks to a table with an assortment of tools, chemicals, and markers.

"Sure thing, Kiera!" Rich sits beside the table and smiles while admiring the large barn.

"Pass me that cleanin' agent there."

Rich hands Kiera a green bottle. "What do you do in here? There's a lot of weapons and bullet casings around."

"I work on guns. Nothing much of it. It's just a hobby next to drawin'." Kiera points to a piece of paper pinned to the barn wall.

On the pale page is a crudely and poorly drawn three-fourths view of a mangy looking man, almost looking (if one squints the eyes) like Uncle. At the top of the page reads "Uncle Sammy."

"Oh! I like that! You got his beard right." Rich nods.

"Thank you! Jay teases me for my skill. You see what he wears? I don't think he has an eye for art." Kiera nods with a smug look. "I like what you're wearing." Kiera says while avoiding Rich's presence.

"Thank you! I appreciate fashion." He says with a light tug at his collar to make the coat dramatically flutter.

Kieras nods "Finally someone else who enjoys art. Uncle and Jay are so grim, especially with all the grays and dark brown colors they wear."

"I'm curious. Are you Jay's sister?" Rich blurts out.

"Ew! I thank anything holy that I'm not related to that dork." Kiera begins to scrub harder.

"Oh! So you're not related to the Harlows?"

"Nope." Kiera pauses for a moment before speaking again. "Just a stray who drools over weaponry. Don't get me started on high impact explosives." Kiera longingly stares at a large metal crate with a lock and paper reading "Kiera don't touch—Jay."

"I've been called a stray. That was my half-sibling's nickname for me." Rich smiles. Kiera looks displeased by his response.

Kiera stops for a moment and turns her body to Rich. "Why'd they call you that?"

Rich scratches his head. "Well, I lived with my mom for awhile until she got sick; she uh, yeah." Rich pauses. "I think they called me that because my father took me in after my mom was gone. Kinda fitting, kinda funny too—well, not much of that last part when I recall." He politely chuckles.

"Well, you're a..." Kiera's voice lowers. "At least you're a pretty stray." Kiera turns back to work on the gun, her pale face bright red. With darting eyes, she attempts to ignore her statement.

"What did you call me? I couldn't hear you." Rich smiles while tilting his head. His elegant hair slowly falls towards the tilt. He smirked, finding her nervousness funny despite truthfully not hearing what she said.

Kiera blushes and tries even harder to avoid eye contact. "Why'd you not live with your dad before that?"

"Well, where I'm from." Rich straightens his posture. "It's frowned upon to have children out of wedlock. It was even worse because my mother was a worker, a maid to be exact—a TV clique honestly thinking about it."