He tugged on the cord, but nothing gave. Pausing for a moment, he tried to remember which way he needed to pull it to disengage the chain.
It’s not like I do this every day, he comforted himself.
John then remembered, through a sudden flash of memory, that it required a forward pull, in the direction of the door. He swore several mumbled words, as he had the least amount of traction and balance moving in that direction. Worried that he might lose his grip otherwise, he went ahead and yanked on the cord. Once again, nothing moved; he began to doubt his memory.
Grunting with the effort, and the sharp pain that shot down his overextended fingers, he tried again. The lock remained in place, and then, with a sudden movement, snapped free.
John stumbled forward, crashing against a low stack of crates. He managed to catch himself before he sprawled completely, but still managed to make plenty of noise. Even as he swore none too softly, he hoped there had been nothing too breakable in any of them.
The handle swung wildly on its cord. John hoped that he had managed to pull it far enough to disengage the lock. If he had not, he was not certain that he repeat the feat.
Moving quickly toward the garage door, he knelt and gripped its bottom edge. Tugging on it, he breathed a deep and audible sigh of relief when it slid easily upward.
He blinked as daylight assaulted him. His eyes had adjusted to the relative dimness of the garage. Now, he blinked away tears as his vision tried to adapt once more. Squinting in the sunlight, he peered down the sidewalk, checking both to his left and right.
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