Microfiction Monday – Untitled

Hello. I am continuing to participate in my regional online group’s microfiction Monday’s. (Mondays?) What happens is our dear leader gives us a theme of the month (which I usually ignore/forget) and a prompt for the week. We’re supposed to limit ourselves to under 300 words, but I rarely do that. I am a chronic over-writer. This is one of my more recent resultant stories.
Some of the stories that have resulted are, I feel, better/slightly more serious and are looking for more officially-published homes.
Under the influence of another ongoing and currently somewhat secret project which I have actually not worked on for about six weeks now, (it’s somewhat secret in case I never finish it, if I don’t say what it is here, I’ll never have to explain when/why I quit it…) a number of the prompted stories have at least minor mentions of things maritime. I decided to throw in a fairly random reference to Great Lake freighters into this story to keep the chain of stories I’ve written with ships in them going. And also because I think Thunder Bay is a cool name for a place. (I’ve passed through it a couple of times.)
Also I couldn’t decide between La Roux’ Bulletproof (which I don’t remember hearing before) or Black Eyed Peas’ I Got a Feeling, but think I made the right decision. Which would you choose for your hero/villain walk?
What title should I give this nonsense?

Monthly theme: Bloom and wither
Prompt of the week: Park

After clunking the truck into park, Michelle put the emergency brake on even though she wasn’t sure it worked. The second-hand truck came with high-end after-market speakers, deaths-head dice hanging from the rear-view mirror and holes in the truck bed she was told were left over from a motorcycle rack. Lord knew where this truck had gone and what it’s previous drivers had done. The guy she’d bought it off of two days ago was happy with a cash transaction at a small town Service centre where his cousin worked.

You had to pick your battles. The truck ran. It was getting her where she was going relatively discreetly.

The dice reminded her of the “Are we the baddies” sketch, and that, besides generally speaking being a good question to ask oneself once and awhile, more specifically reminded her she was about to pilot forty thousand pounds of mass at a hundred and ten kilometres an hour. If she accidentally hit something, she would likely be the baddie.

The forest was close to the road here, the sun was withering away low, and she was passing deer crossing signs more often than other vehicles, so she’d been driving under the limit.

She pushed the emergency brake pedal again. She didn’t want the truck sliding away down the snowy hill while she tidied.

Unfortunately, driving slow made it easy for the two yokel punks in their mother’s grocery-getter to push her over to the side.

She didn’t know if they were pursuing her only because they were bored and they thought she was a strange under-dressed woman alone on the nearly-deserted highway, or if they recognized the truck from it’s previous owner and thought she was carrying something they wanted. There was a third possibility. But it didn’t matter.

The two men were stupid enough to get out of their car and stand together in front of her truck at the same time. She didn’t have time for their stupidity and sinfulness. She had a freighter to catch in Thunder Bay.

If she moved fast, she could have the car and the bodies in the ditch before the next car came along the highway. It could easily be tomorrow before anyone investigated. The thought of lighting the car on fire was tempting, but it was better not to draw attention.

She could move fast.

By tomorrow afternoon, the business in Thunder Bay would be started and she would fly out of the country. Leaving behind a bigger mystery for the local authorities to consider.

Michelle stepped out into the snow, the pteruges of her short skirt swinging free below the bronze cuirass she wore. She left the truck door open as La Roux’s “Bulletproof” began to play on the radio. Where she trod, the snow bloomed into steam.