He waited for a two-count, then reached for the lock. He turned it and let the door crash open as two cops in riot-visors came through, pepper-spray at the fore. He was down on the ground, writhing and clawing at his face in an instant, and the phone caught it all. # All Perry wanted was for someone to cut the plastic cuffs off so he could scrub at his eyes, though he knew that would only make it worse. The riot-bus sounded like an orgy, moaning and groaning with dozens of voices every time the bus jounced over a pothole. Perry was on the floor of the bus, next to a kid -- judging from the voice -- who cursed steadily the whole way along. One hard jounce made their heads connect and they both cussed, then apologized to one another, then laughed a little. "My name's Perry." His voice sounded like he was underwater, but he could hear. The pepper spray seemed to have cleared out his sinuses and given him back some of his hearing. "I'm Death Waits." He said it without any drama. Perry wasn't sure if he'd heard right. He supposed he had. Goth kids. "Nice to meet you." "Likewise." Their heads were banged together again. They laughed and cursed. "Christ my face hurts," Perry said. "I'm not surprised. You look like a tomato." "You can see?" "Lucky me, yup. I got a pretty good couple of whacks on the back and shoulders once I was down, but no gas." "Lucky you all right." "I'm more pissed that I lost the tombstone I brought down. It was a real rarity, and it was hard to get, too. I bet it got tromped." "Tombstone, huh?" "From the Graveyard Walk at Disney. They tore it down last week." "And you were bringing it to add it to the ride?" "Sure -- that's where it belongs." Perry's face still burned, but the pain was lessening. Before it had been like his face was on fire. Now it was like a million fire ants biting him. He tried to put it out of his mind by concentrating on the pain in his wrists where the plastic straps were cutting into him. "Why?" There was a long silence. "Has to go somewhere. Better there than in a vault or in the trash." "How about selling it to a collector?" "You know, it never occurred to me. It means too much to go to a collector." "The tombstone means too much?" "I know it sounds stupid, but it's true. You heard that Disney's tearing out all the goth stuff? Fantasyland meant a lot to some of us." "You didn't feel like it was, what, co-opting you?" "Dude, you can buy goth clothes at a chain of mall-stores. We're all over the mainstream/non-mainstream fight. If Disney wants to put together a goth homeland, that's all right with me. And that ride, it was the best place to remember it. You know that it got copied over every night to other rides around the country? So all the people who loved the old Disney could be part of the memorial, even if they couldn't come to Florida. We had the idea last week and everyone loved it." "So you were putting stuff from Disney rides into my ride?" "Your ride?"