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     The kids came back.  "I hate peanut butter cups!" Jonathan said.  "Why can't they give out good stuff like Sweet Tarts and Milk Duds?"

     "That's enough of that," Brandon said.  "You'd better have said 'thank you'."

     "We did."

     "Good.  You don't want to hurt their feelings.  Besides, most kids like peanut butter."

     "Yuck."

     The kids moved on and the adults followed.  The night wind chilled Brandon's face and hands.

     Dave stopped in mid-stride and doubled over.  He fell to one knee and moaned.  Brandon rushed over.  "Are you okay?" Brandon asked.  He noticed Vic just standing there tapping his foot.  "Jesus, Vic, help!"

     Vic shook his head.  "This happens to Dave all the time.  It isn't anything to worry about."

     Dave took a deep breath and stood up.  "That hurts."

     "Have you seen a doctor for that?" Brandon asked.

     Dave looked at him like he was crazy.  "I'm not going to take time off from work to see a doctor."

     "When was the last time you had a physical?  That could be serious."

     "It's nothing."

     "How long has it been?" Brandon asked.

     "Two years," Dave said.  "Back when I first signed on with the company."

     "You really need to have yourself checked out, Dave."

     "It's none of your concern."

     "I can see to it that you're forced to go in for a check up."

     Dave started to walk on.  He didn't seem to care.  Brandon reached out to grab the man's arm and spin him around.  But when his hand closed on Dave's arm, his fingers met, held apart only by fabric.  Chunks of flesh fell from the jacket sleeve to the sidewalk.  Dave's arm hung for a moment, swinging by a flap of skin, then tore off and shattered on the concrete.

     Brandon stood, mouth open, staring at his hand.  "I--I...."

     Dave turned, slowly.  His legs buckled and his body crumbled like a demolished building caving in.  Pieces bounced and broke up.  The stench of week old death filled the air.  The man had literally rotted inside.

     Brandon dropped to his knees and stared.  The wind threw fragments of Dave at him.  Brandon couldn't pull enough air into his lungs.  His brain tried to deny what his eyes were seeing.  The only thing left to suggest that Dave had been there at all was a pile of dusty polyester.

     Vic shook his head.  "Nice going, Brandon."

     "I didn't...."  Brandon pressed his palms against his eyelids, ran his hands down his face.  This couldn't be happening.  People don't turn to dust like a vampire exposed to sunlight.  Not in the real world.  But Dave was gone.  "What do we do, Vic?  What do we do?"

     "We'd best catch up to the kids before they turn the corner."

     "What about Dave?  Shouldn't we call the police or something?"

     "And tell them what?  That Dave went to pieces?"  Vic half grinned.

     "Jesus, this can't be happening."

     "Oh, calm down, Brandon.  It's nothing new."

     "What?"

     "Let's go get the kids.  We can talk on the way."

     Brandon let himself be led along the sidewalk, leaving the clothing behind.  "You said it's nothing new," Brandon said.

     "It's rather common, actually.  People like you come to town to work.  You do what you can to fit in, leaving your individuality behind.  Pretty soon there's just nothing of you left--you've rotted away and when something spurs you to try and regain some of what's gone you lose the illusion, you fall out of the group and find that you can't stand alone.  Bye bye, bub."

     "Sounds like some kind of Twilight Zone bullshit to me."

     Vic nodded.  "Yeah, but you saw what happened to Dave.  He used to be a hypochondriac.  Kept the doctors in business.  Then he managed to fit in with us and he was fine.  No more illnesses until he started having those attacks.

     "I don't get it."

     "He had memories of pain and illness and since Halloween was coming around, I guess he started drifting back to what he used to be, but there was nothing there to go back to."

     "What's Halloween got to do with it?"

     Vic sighed.  "On Christmas you have suicides because people find themselves along and they can't deal with life without love.  Silly concept, if you ask me, but that's how they feel.  Halloween is the time for disappearances."

     "Why?"

     The kids came back.  "Where's Dad?" Dave's son asked, raising his Spider-Man mask.

     "He said he was going home and that we should drop you off after you fill up your bag," Vic said.

     "Okay."  He looked into his bag.  "We'll be out for awhile then."  He smiled and pulled his mask down.  They ran to the next house.

     "Why do people disappear on Halloween?"

     Vic finished his cigarette and crushed it on the ground.  "Halloween is the one night of the year when people act like something they're not.  People like Dave--and you--act like something they're not every day so come Halloween it's natural that they drift back to what they once were."

     "And if you've lost yourself you die?  That doesn't make a damn bit of sense, Vic?  What really happened?"

     "He sacrificed himself, Brandon.  For the job.  For acceptance.  For money.  For love.  He knew he was doing it and it tore him up inside.  Ate away at his inner spirit, so to speak.  He rotted from the inside out."

     Brandon looked Vic in the eyes.  "You're full of shit."

     "Maybe."

     Doubts nibbled at Brandon.  "Suppose I go along with your, shall we say, symbolism.  Why haven't you crumbled away?"

     "Two possibilities.  Either I managed to maintain my individuality or I learned to become what I was acting out.  Take your pick.  You need to find a way to deal with it, too."

     "You're serious about this."

     Vic nodded.

     "You're out there, man.  Out past Pluto."  Brandon turned.  "Jonathan!" he called.  "Come on, we're going home!"

     "But Dad," Jonathan said.

     "No buts.  Come on."

     "See you at work, for as long as you last," Vic said.  "Maybe next year it'll be you."

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