Wanderlust ✧ (Milo Thatch)

five

The survivors gathered around the edge of the cavern. Dr Sweet lit a single candle in a helmet which he gently placed into the water. Everyone watched the candle drift away in mournful silence, remembering those who had lost their lives against the Leviathan. Commander Rourke, who was standing with his hat against his chest out of respect, gave a commemorative speech.

"Seven hours ago we started this expedition with two hundred of the finest men and women I've ever known. We're all that's left. I won't sugarcoat it, gentlemen. We have a crisis on our hands but we've been up this particular creek before and we've always come through, paddle or no paddle. I see no reason to change that policy now. From here on in, everyone pulls double duty. Everyone drives. Everyone works. Looks like all our chances for survival rest with you, Mr Thatch. You and that little book."

"I-" Milo began to speak when a noise nearby caught everyone's attention. A tiny group of four more crew members emerged from the shadows with cuts and bruises. "Milo?" that sweet, familiar voice called out his name. Without hesitation, Milo ran over and scooped Challis into his arms, holding her ever so tightly. She winced a little, not that it was his intention to hurt her. "I'm sorry," he whispered. 

"It's not your fault. Our pod crashed into the rocks," she spoke quietly, looking over the damage to her body. The injuries, whilst non-life-threatening, were definitely visible and painful. Milo cradled her face in his hands. "Thank goodness you're alive. I don't know what I'd do without you," he brushed a few stray hairs away, getting a good look into her eyes. "Me too," she whispered.

Challis then handed him his bag with an anxious chuckle. "Perhaps it wasn't the smartest decision to retrieve our belongings but...I figured you'd appreciate the gesture."

"So that's where you were. I was so worried that you had-" Milo couldn't finish his sentence. They held each other tight and she buried her face into his chest.

"We're all gonna die," Mrs Packard flicked her cigarette away dryly, thinking about how Marge was still waiting for her call.

"Okay, people. Saddle up. Lieutenant, I want this convoy moving five minutes ago," Rourke stated. The crew spread out, taking over vehicles and packing the rest of their items. 

"Molière, you're on point. No Vinny, Audrey's taking the oiler. You know the rules, I want you 50 yards behind that truck at all times and Packard, put out that cigarette!" Helga dictated. Milo led Challis over to a driverless truck and began honking the horn, prompting an annoyed Rourke to march over. The commander broke the horn off the car with ease and dropped it on the ground.

"Are you sure you're checked out on this class of vehicle?"

"Uh-"

"Can you drive a truck?" the leader demanded to know. 

Milo chuckled, "Pftt, heh, of course, I can drive a truck," he and Challis climbed inside even though she knew he was lying. Milo was (bless him) the worst driver she knew. "I mean sure, you've got your steering and your gas and your brake and this metal-looking thing" his voice trailed off sheepishly. 

Rourke caught onto Thatch's bluff with an unamused face. "Okay so it was a bumper car at Coney Island but it's the same basic principle," Milo insisted.

Rourke looked at Challis. "Can you drive?" he asked. "Yes Sir, but I don't think it's a good idea to put me behind the wheel as of right now," she replied. Rourke noticed her dazed-out eyes and decided to leave her be. Sighing heavily, he trusted Milo with the duty of driving but of course, this didn't work out. Milo kept braking every few seconds which caused a traffic build-up of raging drivers.

"What's the hold-up?"

"Come on, move it!"

"Come on, civilian!"