Wanderlust ✧ (Milo Thatch)

three

At the crack of dawn, Milo leaned over the edge of the boat and vomited as the ship's horn was blown. Challis rubbed his back slowly, glancing out at the open sea. "Carrots. Why is there always carrots? I didn't even eat carrots" Milo muttered, gagging again. Challis handed him a handkerchief and he wiped his mouth, thanking her. 

Challis marvelled at their surroundings, "The ocean is stunning at this time of the morning," she stretched her arms out along the railing. "Indeed it is," he agreed. They enjoyed the serenity of the waves until an announcement from the speakers was broadcasted.

"Attention. All hands to the launch bay. To whoever took the 'L' from the motor pool sign, ha ha, we are all very amused."

Milo grabbed his bag and Challis' hand, leading the way. Once inside, they approached a woman.

"Excuse me?" We need to, uh, report in," Milo said. "Yes, Mr Thatch?" Helga Sinclair turned to face him. "Blondie! I got a bone to pick with you!" the chef interrupted as a crane lowered the cargo crates that he was sitting on. "Hold that thought," Helga rolled her eyes as she was beckoned away "What is it this time, Cookie?"

"You done stuffed my wagon full to bustin' with non-essentials. Look at all this," Cookie grabbed a crate and began pulling out ingredients "Cinnamon, oregano, cilantro. What in the cockadoodle is cilantro?" he tossed the crate away and shattering glass could be heard. "And what is this?" he held up an object. "That would be lettuce," answered Helga.

"Lettuce? Ugh- lettuce?" Cookie replied with a revolted expression.

"It's a vegetable Cookie," Helga snatched it out of his hand, "the men need the four basic food groups."

"I got your four basic food groups!" Cookie listed the items on his fingers "beans, bacon, whiskey and lard!"

"I miss diner food already," Challis whispered and she giggled when Milo whispered back "Yeah me too," with a scrunched nose. The two were startled by the sudden blaring of an alarm. "Alright cowboy, pack it up and move out," Helga ordered Cookie, shoving him backwards.

Mrs Packard, the radio operator who permanently sounded bored no matter what she said, repeated her announcement.

"Attention. All hands to the launch bay. Final loading in progress."

Milo and Challis followed the dozens of soldiers to the elevator. They were taken to the launch bay and couldn't help gawking at the gigantic submarine which was called the Ulysses. "Golly! It's magnificent" she expressed. As they were walking, a cart was shoved into Milo's back roughly.

"Hey, Junior. If you're lookin' for the pony rides, they're back there" Vincenzo brushed past.

"Excuse me. Excuse me? You dropped your-" Milo's eyes widened, "dynamite," he stuttered then chuckled anxiously. "What else have you got in there?"

"Oh, eh, gunpowder, nitroglycerin, notepads, fuses, wicks, glue and paper clips. Big ones," Vinny gestured the size with his hands, "you know, just uh, office supplies," he quickly left.

"Milo! Challis! Where you been?" Preston Whitmore approached. "Hi Grandfather, we were looking at the view" Challis answered. "I want you to meet Commander Rourke. He led the Iceland team that brought the journal back," Preston replied. Lyle Rourke was old enough to be Challis' father. As a beefy man in uniform, he took pride in his orderly appearance although there wasn't much he could do about his grey hair which was balding at the front.

"Milo Thatch. Pleasure to meet the grandson of old Thaddeus" Milo and Rourke shook hands and then the commander turned to Challis. "Miss Whitmore, Preston's beautiful granddaughter. It's a pleasure to meet you too," he picked up her hand, leaving a dainty kiss against her skin. She smiled only to be polite and for no other reason.