Three

Chapter 10

            We walked down the rocky hill leading to the streets of Greycoast. Passing through the small acre woods which was a shortcut from the Winchester. Jack and I would take the shortcut into the woods to town to grab snacks and drinks from the corner store.

 Once the three of us walked past three intersections and a couple of stores we had seen the impact of the earthquake had left. the Townhall buildings took a lot of impacts, seeing the top of the buildings missing structures and construction workers cleaning up the mess on the streets. Fixing roads, street signals, and everything in between. Some stores like the "Coffee House" on 4th Street and "Marco's Bakery" were destroyed. Thankfully no one was killed or extremely injured in the incidents only a couple dozen. It was still a shock to see all the damages done to Greycoast. The town has never experienced anything like this in a long time which made it extremely difficult to cope with the disaster. The weather wasn't helping at all either. The wind started to pick and we felt little sprinkles of water touch the top of our head and arms making us start jogging towards the storage unit. Passing by homeless hippies standing at crosswalks with signs that read "End of the World. God is Among Us" yelling at everyone passing by. No one seemed to pay much attention to them. Only a glance. 

In ten minutes we reached the storage unit on Welson Street and Seventh Avenue. 

The building was as tall as the Winchester only by a  few feet. It was painted grey with blue stripes going around the building and huge orange letters on the front that read "CUBE STORAGE". The colors were more saturated from the rain that was now pouring dramatically. We sprinted across the street towards the doors and entered the small front office. A bell jingled as we entered. Music was playing from a small radio on the corner of the front desk table. I felt the air coming down from the ceiling fan making the stack of weekly newspapers in the corner flopping through pages. At the front desk stood a tall African American man. He had a small brown colored afro and big circle glasses and a very thick black beard. He was a bit overweight judging from his blue polo shirt that barely fit him that read "CUBE STORAGE" on the corner of the shirt. We walked up to the desk to notice he was lost in a car magazine flipping through pages. Licking his finger to turn the page. 

He looked up finally and asked, "How may I help?"

"I need to see a storage unit but I don't know the number of the unit and don't have the key as well either but I do know the name it is under. Lisa and Allan Smith." I said as the man walked over to the computer next to the desk and started to type. He was scrolling for a couple minutes and then came back to the desk. "The storage unit is #65. Unfortunately, I cannot let you guys in since you aren't the holders of that unit. I would need to see identification." 

"Sir. I'm an orphan we all are. We stay at the Winchester Foster Home up the hill, a couple blocks away from here. We walked and sprinted in this weather seeing from our wet clothes we had a mission. That storage unit belongs to my parents and they both died in a car accident a few years back. I was the only survivor of that crash and I need as much help as I can get it before I get kicked out of the foster home because of my age. Please." I explained.

"No wonder the storage unit hasn't been checked out in so long. It was a very active unit seeing from the reports on the computer. I'm sorry to hear about that I know if I was in your shoes I'll probably be doing the same thing. You guys came in on a good time. Usually, the employees here can be assholes about identification for the units but I'm not like that." The man said as he walked over to a bunch of cabinets on the side of the wall and slid one of the cabinets open. Revealing a pair of keys tied with a red scarf that read "#65" in gold font. "I'll take you guys down there. Follow me through those doors behind you guys."