But his passion didn't carry over to dismantling the goth rehab. Sammy should have anticipated that, but he had totally failed to do so. He was just so used to thinking of Death Waits as someone who was a never-questioning slave to the park. "Come on, cheer up! Look at how cool these thrill rides are going to be. Those were your idea, you know. Check out the coffin-cars and the little photo-op at the end that photoshops all the riders into zombies. That's got to be right up your alley, right? Your friends are going to love this." Death moped as only a goth could. He performed his duties slowly and unenthusiastically. When Sammy pinned him down with a direct question, he let his bangs fall over his eyes, looked down at his feet, and went silent. "Come on, what the hell is going on? The fences were supposed to be up this morning!" The plan had been to get the maintenance crews in before rope-drop to fence off the doomed rides so that the dismantling could begin. But when he'd shown up at eight, there was no sign of the fences, no sign of the maintenance crews and the rides were all fully staffed. Death looked at his feet. Sammy bubbled with rage. If you couldn't trust your own people, you were lost. There were already enough people around the park looking for a way to wrong-foot him. "Death, I'm talking to you. For Christ's sake, don't be such a goddamned baby. You shut down the goddamned rides and send those glue-sniffers home. I want a wrecking crew here by lunchtime." Death Waits looked at his feet some more. His floppy black wings of hair covered his face, but from the snuffling noises, Sammy knew there was some crying going on underneath all that hair. "Suck it up," he said. "Or go home." Sammy turned on his heel and started for the door, and that was when Death Waits leapt on his back, dragged him to the ground and started punching him. He wasn't much of a puncher, but he did have a lot of chunky silver skull-rings that really stung. He pasted a couple good ones on Sammy before Sammy came to his senses and threw the skinny kid off of him. Strangely, Sammy's anger was dissipated by the actual, physical violence. He had never thrown a punch in his life and he was willing to bet the same was true of Death Waits. There was something almost funny about an actual punch-up. Death Waits picked himself up and looked at Sammy. The kid's eyeliner was in smears down his cheeks and his hair was standing up on end. Sammy shook his head slowly. "Don't bother cleaning out your locker. I'll have your things sent to you. And don't stop on your way out of the park, either." He could have called security, but that would have meant sitting there with Death Waits until they arrived. The kid would go and he would never come back. He was disgraced.