People on the street cleared, and she was gone in a roaring cloud of burning tire smoke. Knudsen looked around the street one last time, waved to them, and followed. "Look at that!" Ben said pointing at the sky. "Just like this morning!" A full rainbow arched across the sky off the California coast. "A poetic ending to a very exciting day, but if you start singing, 'Somewhere over the rainbow'," Porsche warned him, "I'm going to smack you in the arm." "Hey," a deep voice bellowed. "What's going on?" "You're late, Boss," Porsche called without looking over her shoulder. "We're done." "What?" Rolf Anderson was a big man with thinning blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail and short-cropped beard on his iron jaw. "Where's all the merchandise?" "Sold." Porsche hung onto Ben as she turned around. "Down to the last-scrap. This is Ben, he's been helping out. Come on across the street to 'Skinny's' and buy us a beer, and we'll tell you a story that'll make you soil your shorts." ~~~~~~~~~ "Hey, Skinny, can't you turn down that TV!" Anderson roared at the bartender. "Sorry, Rolf," the pale, three hundred pound man apologized. "Most people want to hear it." He hit the mute button before bringing another pitcher of beer to their table. "So, go on," Anderson encouraged. "Frau White from Oz walked buck naked into my shop, sold every bike you could scavenge up, left bucketfuls of money, and rode off on a date with Big Dan Knudsen?" "Umm, yeah," Porsche replied carefully. Anderson suddenly exploded in roaring laughter. He laughed so hard tears ran down
his seamed face. "Don't-- don't tell me-- she ran off over a rainbow!" "No, she rode off with Knudsen on that custom Gold Valkyrie we've been trying to sell for--" "On a 'gold hog'?" He fell back laughing uncontrollably once again. "Yeah, hey I know it sounds like a crock," Porsche told him defensively. "She said she was Oz-- or came from Oz. Frau Hvhite, Knudsen said, right?" "That's what he said," Ben agreed. "You guys are killing me! It's--" Anderson wiped his eyes trying to get himself under control. "Not Oz, it's 'Ah-ss'. She was telling you, she was an ﾃ《. Frowa Hvhite-- The White Lady- Viking goddess of love, wealth, magic, and war. Comes down the rainbow-bridge to collect heroes fallen in battle-- Rides on a golden boar-- Jeeze, Grandpa Anderson used to tell us all those old fairytales when we were kids. You never heard--?" He laughed again and chugged another mug of beer. "Man was she yanking your chain!" Ben reached in his pocket and pulled out a folded picture he'd taken of the woman. He showed it to Anderson. "So that's supposed to be the Queen of the Valkyries?" Anderson mused. "Well she is a looker! With a shtick like that she'll go far in Hollywood." The man laughed again and pointed to the writing on the bottom. "She even scribbled Nordic runes across it." He was laughing, taking another drink when he stopped and thrust a finger at the TV. "Turn that up, Skinny!"
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"You just said to turn it down--" "Turn it up!" Anderson bellowed. Skinny hit the volume on the widescreen TV over the bar and the Newscaster's voice came on in mid-sentence while a picture of a uniformed figure filled the background. "--shot twice with a high powered rifle, Officer Daniel Knudsen still managed to foil the robbery, shooting down his two assailants before succumbing to horrific injuries. "Again, a tragedy for Venice Beach when one of our finest was killed in the line of duty at two O'clock this afternoon." "We just saw Knudsen ride away--" Ben said in confusion. "I mean, it looked like Knudsen riding away--" "With--" Porsche swallowed hard, "Her." "She who gathers up slain heroes from the field of battle to feast in the halls of ﾃ《guard until the end of the world," Anderson whispered. "What was she doing here?" Ben asked dazedly. "I guess," Porsche said with a shrug, "the lady wanted a bike." "It was just an act," Anderson assured them. "Some sort of publicity stunt." "Must've been," Porsche agreed. "There was sure something about her though . . ." Ben interrupted her by suddenly patting and digging in his pockets. "What are you doing?" Porsche demanded. "What do you think I'm doing?" he replied. "I'm looking for that lottery ticket she gave me!"