You run down the hill and grab all your stuff out of the trunk. You make sure nothing is left in the glove compartment. You check your pants. Phew. Still there. You start walking, looking for someone to house you for the night.

A litany of profanity thundered through the woman's skull as she looked down the road at her ride, but her outer appearance remained like stone.  She pursed her lips and embraced one final string of inner curse words before plucking a hair tie from her pocket and pulling her long hair into a bun, then trudging down to examine the damage to her rental.  She sighed before she even got to within spitting distance of the car.  The back end was solidly scrunched up against some ancient fruit-bearing tree of some kind, though its limbs were barren of fruit - or leaves, for that matter.  The damn thing could have been dead for decades but there was no one to notice.

But the car.  She was no mechanic but she knew it was FUBAR.  If this accident had occurred across the pond it might have been little more than a fender-bender, maybe the trunk would get a little rumpled.  But these cheap-ass Eurotrash cars had their engines in the back, and right now it was steaming and leaving a puddle of fluids curling around the base of the tree while the woman fumed.

She shook her head and opened the driver's side door.  Inside, she retrieved the only two items she carried with her, a backpack and a small duffle.  She also popped open the glove compartment and grabbed her rental agreement.  She bent down and disengaged the hood (or "Bonnet"), then walked around to the front of the car.  It was sparse in there, but there was a roadside emergency kit, of which she greedily grabbed the flares.  She walked to the open driver's door and then paused to unzip her backpack.  She dug deep and found what she was looking for immediately.  With her jaw set in a grimace of satisfaction, she pulled out a large can of lighter fluid, which she emptied all over the interior of the stationary vehicle and replaced inside her bag.

There were three flares.  The first one she tossed into the front of the little car and it was instantly engulfed in an orange fireball of flame.  The second flare she tossed into the backseat, adding to the inferno, and the third... what the hell, she tossed that into the engine compartment at the rear.  She wasn't sure it would even do any damage; the coolant and assorted fluids might even extinguish the flame, for all she knew.

But she was rewarded with a large whoosh as the fuel line caught fire and another fireball consumed the soon-to-be abandoned vehicle, which forced her staggering back a step and wondering if her eyebrows would grow back.  She didn't know about fingerprints, but she was fairly certain the flames would erase any DNA evidence she might have unwittingly left behind.  She nodded with satisfaction and adjusted the straps of her pack at her shoulders while she began walking away from her self-induced bonfire.  The flames were really pretty impressive and bright enough to send the woman's shadow flickering in front of her for a good few yards as she walked.  She chanced a look behind her and was a little concerned to see the whole tree burning like crazy in the purple sky.  She was trying to slip unnoticed into the night, not set the ever-loving countryside alight.

She hurried her steps.

The End

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