Fiction: Stoned thieves, traffic jams & other catastrophes

This month's Words for Wednesday prompts are provided by Elephant's Child over here. The previous week's prompts are: common animal phrases. The ones I used are chicken hearted and bat an eye. Last week's prompts are: ancient, life, water, melody, lied and/or medal, speaker, cords, paper, false. I used the first half of the prompts. This week's prompts are: kiss, hope, grinned, dark, shock and/or high, places, fiends, Friday, why. I used both sets of prompts.

Fiction: Stoned thieves, traffic jams & other catastrophes
They were scheduled to pick up three bodies. It was a dark, cold, Friday morning with a high chance of a storm. With Freddie in the passenger seat and looking placid, Max drove, gripping the steering wheel tightly. His mind kept drifting toward the back of the van where three bodies will be placed in their individual compartments.
    Freddie called their profession body movers which Max thought was appropriately accurate. He still couldn't fathom why the 29-year-old Freddie wanted to do this type of work. She often joked it was so someday she could personally manhandle her ex-husband and maybe hide his body so no one would find it. Max was never certain if she was joking or not.
    At the hospital mortuary, Max forced his hands to keep still. He wasn't all chicken hearted but unwanted thoughts weaved through his head as he and Freddie moved the bodies sealed in plastic bags. Moving bodies was a task he didn't need to do but if he was going to take over the family business, he needed the experience.
    Just as the two were done, Freddie's phone rang. After a brief chat, she said, "Sorry, boss, I need to go. My brother drove himself into a wall. I'll leave you to take the souls to the parlor. See ya." She got out of the van, waved and left him. Freddie thought souls was a good term as she thought dead bodies was an unkind phrase.
    By the afternoon, as Max drove onto the bridge, rain began plunking down like rocks. Traffic was heavy both ways. When he paused the van, the door opened and a thin man pressed a gun to Max's head. "Get out," he said though his lips were hidden beneath his tangled, black beard. Without waiting, the man pulled Max out of the van as he hastily released the seatbelt. A small man with a vulpine smile grabbed Max and shoved him into the back and got in beside him. Pointing a gun at Max, Vulpine Man ordered Max to cross his arms and then he pulled the seatbelt over Max. "Don't go anywhere, you hear?" said Vulpine Man, grinning as he wiped his face and hair with his hand, letting rain dripped all over the seats. If Max was shocked, it didn't matter since all he could think about was he must not leave. He was legally responsible for the bodies and losing them would end his family business. So he kissed the hope of escaping goodbye.
    Bearded Man turned on the radio to some slow ballad. He hummed the melody as he zigzagged the van around various vehicles and striking one or two every so often.
    "It's too cold in here, man. Turn off the air," said Vulpine Man. He was wearing a leather jacket opened wide and revealing his pink pineapple Hawaiian shirt underneath.
    "No! Don't!" said Max.
    Vulpine Man smacked Max on the side of the face. "We do whatever hell we want," he said.
    Bearded Man turned off the air. If only they knew how bad the smell would get. Max had experienced that when the van broke down last week on a freezing day when he and Freddie stayed inside the van and waited four hours for the tow truck.
    They slammed against a semi-truck and Max jolted forward but his seatbelt kept him from hitting the back of the seat. Vulpine Man cursed as he rubbed his head. "Hey man, do you even know how to drive?"
    "Shut your trap! I'm the driver!" replied Bearded Man.
    "I told you not to take the bridge!" said Vulpine Man.
    Bearded Man grunted. "Oh yeah? You're the one who forgot to put gas in the car!"
    "Yeah! Well, you're the one who wanted to rob that empty store!" Vulpine Man rubbed his nose.
    "Yeah! Well, you're... What were we talking about? Oh yeah, tacos! We should get some tacos!" Bearded Man laughed. "Yeah, man! Let's go get some tacos," said Vulpine Man and he laughed. Were they drug fiends? Max wondered.
    The truck they hit suddenly opened its cargo doors and bath bombs spilled out. Under the heavy rain, they expanded and colorful foams began forming, some landed on the windshield. Pale sunlight gleamed off the soapy water. Cheers and car honks broke out. Bearded Man lowered the windows slightly, letting in the rain. The citrus with hints of cocoa butter scent permeated the van. Bearded Man made a sniffing noise. Vulpine Man inhaled and rubbed his nose. The scent reminded Max of childhood.
    Bearded Man struck another semi-truck. As if the foams were getting lonely, this truck started spilling out yellow rubber duckies. They swam in the foams and puddles.
    "Stop the car!" said Vulpine Man. The van halted and Max jolted forward but again unharmed. Vulpine Man rubbed his forehead, opened the van door, bended down to pick up a rubber duckie and closed the door. His eyes gleamed. "Look, my own ducky." He chuckled and waved the duckie around. Max thought he was mad but said nothing. Breaded Man started the van.
    A familiar scent began to fill Max's nostrils. Even though the back was sealed off from the rest of the van, it didn't stop air flow. Vulpine Man must had noticed because he started a sniffing expedition. Max didn't bat an eye when the man leaned close and sniffed him. Surprisingly, Vulpine Man smelt like fresh soap. He leaned back, rubbed his nose and seemed to forget whatever thought he had.
    Suddenly they rocked to a stop. In front of them was a large, white freight truck with the sign of a giant, yellow chicken standing on two legs with a fisted hand on its waist while the other hand held a donut in flames. The words, "Angry Chicken Flaming Donuts" was underneath it. The truck was double the size of all the vehicles around them. There was little room on both sides of the bridge to squeeze through. "Man, look at that sucker!" said Bearded Man.
    "Go straight through it! We can beat that chicken!" said Vulpine Man.
    "No, don't do it!" Max protested. Vulpine Man struck Max's face. "Shut up! Your opinion is not required!" He laughed and pointed the gun at Max. "You need a cooling down!" He pressed the trigger and cold water squirted into Max's face. He blinked and spat out water. Vulpine Man kept on laughing. The gun was a fake? They lied to him! He should had realized seeing how ancient looking the guns were. He recalled a moment ago, Bearded Man had carelessly tossed his gun onto the passenger seat.
    Against shouting curses, car horns, falling rain, Bearded Man backed up the van, bumping into vehicles left, right and back. They went forward but suddenly turned right, struck a box truck and skidded around the floor of the bridge, knocking against other vehicles. Max screamed but his cry was drowned out by Vulpine Man's screech. He jerked about and hit his head on the back of the front seat. The van halted. Bearded Man squeaked as he flew through the windshield and landed on the hood. Vulpine Man's head struck the window, breaking it. He slumped against Max, both the gun and rubber duckie slipped from his hands. Max shook Vulpine Man off him. Something struck the window on Max's side and broke it. Shards fell on him as he turned away. When everything was still, he looked down at his lap at a rubber duckie. The rain splattered him through the window. Bright sunlight filled the van. Slowly, he struggled until he got the seatbelt released. He threw the duckie aside and rubbed his shoulder where the strap had dug in.
    After a sigh, Max carefully got out of the van. Around him, damaged vehicles, injured people, rubber duckies, beach balls and various objects loitered the bridge but he veered his attention toward the back of the van. From his inner coat pockets, he took out a key and unlocked and opened one of the double doors. The bodies appeared unharmed. He closed the door and locked it. Then he did an inspection of the van. To say it was completely destroyed would be correct - punctures on tires, two flat tires, the bumper nearly falling off, one broken headlight, two broken taillights, outside mirror on the driver's side was missing and scratches and dents on every exterior surface.
    Exhausted, Max leaned against the doors. Of all the places to be, he didn't imagine he would be struck on a bridge. Never in his 30-year life did he think this would happen. When they get a new van, Max will insist on every safety features and also to upgrade to a self-contained cooling system for the back so he wouldn't have to drive with his coat on.
    With a sudden realization, Max was cheered. All through the ride, he hadn't been one bit uncomfortable about the dead bodies. His left cheek still ached. Sirens sounded not far off. Soon, he would need to explain to the police why he had dead bodies in the van.