The Restoration Project

1.01 - Merrick

"Finally, some sunshine," Merrick said, shrugging off his jacket in the mid-morning light. Sweat beaded on his forehead, an odd sensation after a bone chilling winter that had him and Anita hunkered in their RV with only chemical hand warmers for heat.

"And before long you'll be complainin' it's too hot, you big baby. This is it, right?" Anita asked, stepping beside him. She tilted her head toward a building on the other side of a black iron fence, her long blond hair bouncing in its ponytail. He cast her a sideways glance, prepared to make some witty comment about how being a baby might actually prove beneficial in their current situation but, instead, found himself entranced with how the fading sun reflected in her deep blue eyes and highlighted the freckles adorning her high cheeks. He was lucky to have found her when he did.

Merrick turned to the building, his eyes drawn to the letters WTMM running vertically along a metal tower jutting out of the left side of the roof. A small canopy covered a walkway to the front door, although the door and all the windows were boarded up with hastily fastened sheets of plywood. A few pieces on the windows had fallen off, creating gaps that revealed only darkness inside.

"Yup," Merrick responded, draping his coat over his arm. He wished he had left it back at the RV.

"Then let's go," Anita said.

She stepped through a gap in the fencing and into a small parking lot. Merrick followed, his gaze lingering on a fenced area at the back of the building. Closed-off areas could be a helpful refuge or a deadly trap if you weren't aware of them. Merrick wasn't one to take any chances, not with Anita. Or the bump that started to show on her belly.

"Rusty! Cm'here boy!" Merrick called out. Rusty, an aged Golden Retriever, finished peeing on a fallen hydro pole and bounded over to Merrick, covering his hand in slobbery licks. "Go check it out," Merrick ordered, pointing to the chain-link fence.

He wasn't wilfully putting Rusty in danger—Rusty would stop in his tracks and growl if he came even close to it—but he still felt like a coward sending Rusty to do his dirty work. Then again, that was how he managed to survive this long.

"What're you doing?" Anita asked, she stopped along the sidewalk, halfway to the plywood-covered front door.

Merrick held up a hand for Anita to wait as Rusty reached the pen, immediately sniffing the ground, his tail hanging low. Then his tail raised and he turned around to pee on the fence before ambling back. Merrick gave Anita a curt nod. "We're good."

"And only slightly paranoid," Anita added, although her smile confirmed she was joking.

Merrick patted Rusty's head and joined Anita at the front door. The framing suggested symmetrical windows once flanked a glass door. Now it was one solid piece of plywood.

"It's your turn," Anita said, stepping back from the door and crossing her arms over her chest.

"Okay. On the count of three," Merrick started. "One, two,"—he raised his foot in the air, aiming it at the center of the plywood—"three." He slammed it with as much force as he could muster.

It didn't budge.

"Good craftsmanship," Merrick observed, rubbing his knee. Anita smirked.

Merrick assessed the piece of wood again, knocking on it until it produced a hollow thud just to the left of centre. With a quick burst, he rammed his shoulder into it. There was a gentle crack, but not much more. "Think I'll need your help on this one."

"Give it one more try, for a helpless little lady like myself," Anita joked as she rubbed her belly.

Merrick smiled as he took a couple steps back and ran at the wood with all his force. A sharp crack emanated from inside as the nails fastening the plywood into the original frame let go. It was followed by a loud bang as the sheet fell to the floor, sending up a plume of dust.