Where Wade had been hoping for a quiet night, he knew that, deep down, it's was not meant to be. Actually, he had been hoping it would dead in the graveyard, pun intended. And actually, it wasn't ghosts or zombies or ghouls that were disturbing him, setting his hair on edge as he waited. It was the animals. Tiny or medium sized things creeping around in the crisp, dried outs and dead underbrush. He could hear their creeping and stalking. Even the ones on the other side of the cemetery. And, unfortunately for him, he had a fear of foxes.