I gestured at the multiple Fonzies, and asked, “Which Fonzie are we respecting?”
“All of them.” She waved her hands. We were all now sporting black leather—pants, jackets and boots. The white t-shirts were the only breathable fiber on our bodies. “Aaaaayyyyy,” Candy crooned, giving us a thumbs up.
“Is this necessary?” Gideon asked with an eye roll.
“Probably not,” Candy admitted with a grin. “But it’s badass.”
“I quite like it,” Tim said, admiring himself. “I wish it had more pockets, but it will do.”
“Remember,” Gideon said quietly, as we got to our feet. “If the Fonzies pose a threat, off them.”
“Roger that, motherfucker,” Candy Vargo said, checking her pockets for her weapons. “Let’s hope the rest of the day is the beginning of our very ownHappy Days.”
From her mouth…
CHAPTER FOUR
The Fonzies watchedus warily as we approached. They didn’t appear aggressive, but I wasn’t going to trust that. I kept my body relaxed and casual. I noticed that Gideon, Candy and Tim did the same. We were coming in friendly. It was up to the Fonzies if we stayed that way.
Whatever was on the ground near their motorcycles was definitely bloody. Even though my eyesight was excellent, I wasn’t able to make out what was soaked in blood. The wild flowers got in the way.
“Don’t look big enough to be a body,” Candy Vargo said, barely moving her lips.
We were about two-hundred feet from the Fonzies. Immortals, if that’s what the Fonzies even were, had outstanding hearing and eyesight. We were taking no chances that they could lip read or overhear us.
“Looks like a small animal in pieces from here,” Gideon said softly. He, too, barely moved his mouth.
“Do you think it’s their dinner?” I asked with a wince.
“I’d be surprised if it was,” Tim added. “Arnold’s Drive-In serves excellent hamburgers and fries.”
His statement was so absurd, I didn’t know what to say, so I said nothing.
“Aaaaaay!” the Fonzies yelled with their thumbs up as we drew closer. “Aaaaaay!”
Candy yelled, “Aaaaaaay,” back. The Fonzies seemed to relax a little.
Gideon’s brow furrowed. “What language is that?”
“1950s American biker reimagined for primetime television,” Tim told him. “Just say it back.”
“Seriously?” I asked. We were here on a mission to get my daughter, Jennifer and Shitty Ritchie back. Hanging with the Fonzies wasn’t part of the plan.
Or, maybe it was. I’d realized quickly that in the Immortal world very little was coincidence.
“Aaaaaay!” Candy Vargo shouted again.
Gideon and Tim followed suit with half-hearted thumbs up and an “Aaaaaaay” that sounded more like a question than a greeting.
I felt ridiculous but...when in Fake Milwaukee... I shrugged and shouted, “Aaaaaay!”
We were answered with more rounds of Aaaaaays and double thumbs up from all three Fonzies. It was surreal.
“Aaaaaay!” the Fonzie on the right called out. “Any of you cool chicks or sharp dressed dudes have medical experience?”
“I’m sorry what?” I asked as we walked closer.
“I’m a doctor,” Gideon called out, giving the bikers another thumbs up.
