"That was *terrible*!" Suzanne said. "Isn't it great?" "God, I'll never get that song out of my head." They moved through the flashing lights of Tomorrowland. "Look at that -- no line on Space Mountain," Sammy said, pointing. So they rode Space Mountain -- twice. Then they caught the fireworks. Then Sammy took her over to Tom Sawyer Island on a maintenance boat and they sat up in the tree house and watched as the park heaved and thronged, danced and ran, laughed and chattered. "Hear the rustling?" "Yeah, what is that, rabbits or something?" "Giant rats." Sammy grinned in the dark. "Giant, feral rats." "Come on, you're joking." "Cross my heart. We drain the lake every now and then and they migrate to the island. No predators. Lots of dropped french fries -- it's ratopia here. They get as big as cats. Bold little fuckers too. No one likes to be here alone at night." "What about us?" "We're together." The rustling grew louder and they held their breath. A bold rat like a raccoon picked its way across the path below them. Then two more. Suzanne shivered and Sammy did, too. They were huge, feral, menacing. "Want to go?" "Hell *yes*," she said. She fumbled in her purse and came out with a bright little torch that shone like a beacon. You weren't supposed to use bright lights on the island after hours while the rest of the park was open, but Sammy was glad of it. Back on the mainland, they rode Big Thunder Mountain and moseyed over to the new, half-rebuilt Fantasyland. The zombie maze was still open, and they got lost in it amid the groans, animatronic shamblers, and giggling kids running through the hedges. Something happened in the maze. Between entering it and leaving it, they lost their cares. Instead of talking about the park and Hackelberg, they talked about ways of getting out of the maze, talked about which zombie was coming next, about the best zombie movies they'd ever seen, about memorable Halloweens. As they neared the exit, they started to strategize about the best ride to go on next. Suzanne had done the Haunted Mansion twice when she first arrived and now -- "Come on, it's such a cliche," Sammy said. "Anyone can be a Haunted Mansion fan. It's like being a Mickey fan. It takes real character to be a Goofy fan." "You're a Goofy fan, I take it?" "Indeed. And I'm also a Jungle Cruise man." "More corny jokes?" "'We've been *dying* to have you' -- talk about cornball humor." They rode both. The park was closing, and all around them, people were streaming away from the rides. No lines at all, not even in front of the rollercoasters, not even in front of Dumbo, not even in front of the ultra-violent fly-over of the world of the zombies (nee Peter Pan's Flight, and a perennial favorite).