The Wandering Island Factory

A strange behemoth of a boat is parked off the coast of Hawaii, but it isn't alone. On the shore are dozens of protesters, and in the legislature are dozens of greedy politicians promising to lower their roadblocks if the deep pockets of this new industry make the right campaign contributions. No, this boat is surrounded on all sides by controversy.It's an island factory, the first of its kindI always thought love was found on exotic beaches and at hometown picnics, not on bombing ranges. But then again, life is never normal for an archaeologist. Here's the tale of how I met the love of my life, the only man for me. Excerpt:“Yep. That’s unexploded ordnance.” Jeffery commented. Both he and Matthew stood with their arms crossed against their chests, looking down at it with the manly consideration reserved for beat up vehicles, broken garbage disposals, and apparently artillery.“Is it live?” I asked“Don’t know.” Our trusty EOD expert replied. He pulled a GPS from his backpack and began plugging in the location for future reference.“If I had stepped on it would it have blown up?” My mind flashed to the training video we had been forced to watch explaining the dangers of unexploded ordnance and the very real possibility of death or injury.“Maybe.” He smiled.I pursed by lips and squinted. “You’re messing with me.” He shrugged and turned back the way they had come. I glared at his back, then walked a good ten feet around the ordnance and flounced through the brush. Matthew’s infectious laughter caught me before I could outrun it.