Storage Unit

The only job I could find with my college schedule was a night shift at one of those storage unit places. You know, those vast totalitarian-looking buildings where people can rent space to put things they don’t want to look at anymore. It was fine with me, I just sat in the small customer service office behind the desk and let people through the gate. Nights were usually quiet, so I could get reading done for my classes.

There is a wall of monitors that cover every angle of the area, and sometimes I feel like the scientist I am studying to be. The storage units on the monitors resemble one of those mazes that researchers force rats to find their way to the cheese. My only real responsibility is when someone drove up to the gate, I ask through an intercom for some identification and what unit they are going to, and let them through.

The building is located in an old industrial area of the city at the end of a road that leads to the train tracks. Sure, sometimes it could be eerie here at night with all the darkness and silence - some nights I wouldn’t even get one customer. But, it was mostly uneventful.

It also allowed me to bring my little brother along when my mom had to work nights. He is eleven years old and my boss never really came by, so no harm. My brother just sat watching the wall of monitors like he was watching television. He is deaf and we communicate through sign language.

I repeat the rules to him that I have said from the first time he was with me: “Don’t leave this office. Don’t talk to anyone. Don’t go wandering off. People go in and out of here all the time and they have these storage units for all kinds of weird reasons. Whatever that reason may be, it’s none of our business.”

I say it’s none of our business, but even I am prone to curiosity. I mean, who knows what is hidden away in some of these storage units? I admit that when people do visit their storage unit, I will watch the monitor to see what they are putting in there. It’s mostly furniture or business products, but sometimes I have seen some questionable things.

The buzzer goes off. A pickup truck is idling at the gate. The man in the truck has long hair and a pointy beard. When he tells me which storage unit he’s going to, I pause. It’s the furthermost one in the back and no one has accessed it for the length of time I worked here. I ask for identification and open the gate. I watch the truck slowly move to the back of the building. Five minutes later, another buzzer. This time a small jaguar with two men in it. They are going to the same storage unit. I open the gate and watch them make their way to the pickup truck.

I watch the monitors as the pickup men and jaguar men stand in front of the storage unit. They are talking, but this quickly escalates into shouting. I sign for my brother to stay here, lock the doors, and wait for me to get back. Walking through the maze of the storage units, the silence is cut through with the faint shouting of the men. It gets louder with every corner I turn.

At the storage unit, I interrupt the argument. They are surprised, tell me to mind my own business. I’m breaking my own rules. I tell them that they need to clear out or I’m calling the police. Nobody moves for what seems like forever. A noise, like a slight clang, comes from the storage unit and breaks the silence. I let them know I am walking back to the office to open the gate for them.

On the walk back, I continually look behind me. I sign to my brother in a passing camera that I am okay. Back at the office, I lock all the doors and watch the men get in their vehicles and make their way to the gate. They both leave with no further interactions.

About an hour later, I’m still staring at the monitor that shows the storage unit. It’s been quiet since the men left, no other customers. Curiosity gets the better of me. I sign to my brother to stay put again. I make my way to the storage unit at the back. As I get closer, the space around me seems to get quieter. To the camera, I sign to my brother that everything is okay. I put my ear to the door of the storage unit, nothing. I put the key into the lock and pull the door open, cutting through the silence. When the door is open, I don’t move, let the silence settle again. The unit is completely dark, too dark. I can’t see anything, but I can feel something. A presence. A low guttural growl is heard from deep in the unit. I back away. Something is inside. 

At that moment, the overhead light goes out. I take a step backwards. Another growl followed by something snapping its jaws together. I turn and run. As I run through the maze, the lights cut out one-by-one in my wake. As I pass by cameras, I motion to my brother to open the gate and when he sees me, hits the button to close it and waits for me on the other side out on the street.

I don’t know if something was chasing me or it was just my imagination. Lights weren’t just going out anymore, but the lightbulbs were exploding. I was almost at the gate. I saw my brother in the office and he saw me. He hit the button for the gate to start closing and exited the office. It’s a slow-moving gate, but I was running out of gas, only adrenaline was pushing me forward. I squeezed through the opening as the gate shut with a clang. My brother rushed to me and I scanned the other side of the gate with my eyes. I didn’t want to wait around to meet whatever the hell I just let loose.