“Hey!” one of the kids shouted above all the others. “Check it out! Two of them!”

Finn glanced over, only to realize he was standing twenty feet from his own DHI. His host self was surrounded by a pair of families and was answering questions.

The two band musicians stumbled out onto the street. They looked back and forth from one Finn to the other. Which was which?

The real Finn pointed to the castle. He recited the memorized tour information recorded during the filming at Disney-MGM Studios. The DHI Finn, the hologram, not far away, mimicked the same moves and recited the same words from the same script.

Unable to determine which Finn to pursue, the band members froze. The real Finn then moved his smal group of followers up the street at the exact same pace as his DHI. The two were perfect duplicates of each other.

Then, with enough distance between himself and his pursuers, Finn slipped down a side path. He quickly shed the DHI-Finn T-shirt and dumped it into the trash. He hopped out of the ugly shorts, slipped his sunglasses back on, and made off at a run, headed for the Haunted Mansion.

Ten minutes later, Finn spotted Amanda waiting on a bench near the Haunted Mansion’s exit, as planned. A neat apron of lawn surrounded the towering brick Victorian-style structure. The paved area in front of the entrance was divided with chains and stanchions into three lanes, including one for the holders of the Fastpass. Parked against the mansion’s front wall, equidistant between the entrance and exit, stood a gleaming all-black horse-drawn hearse—even the windows were black. The harness hung in midair; the horse was invisible.

Finn waited briefly before approaching Amanda, taking time to determine if either of them had been followed.

“Hey, there you are,” Amanda said.

“I was spotted. I got away, but just barely.”

“Will they bust you?”

“Not sure they can without catching me first, without proving it’s me.”

She glanced around. “So what now? How do we get you out of the park without your being caught?”

Finn hadn’t thought through this possibility when forming their original plan. “I suppose they might watch the exit.”

“You think? Get a life! Of course they will.”

“You think? Get a life! Of course they will.”

“There’s a guy…an old guy. I think he might help, if I can find him.” Finn spotted a pair of clean-cut young men approaching the Fastpass entrance, not thirty feet away, just on the other side of the hearse. He and Amanda moved a few feet to be screened from view.

Finn said, “Okay. Look over my shoulder. See those two tall guys in line? They’ve got wires in their ears, and I’ll bet they’re looking for me. And guess what? We’re trapped.”

Amanda studied the two. With Finn’s back to them, at this distance, he was safe. She looked at the Haunted Mansion, then at the way the exit line converged toward the entrance line, the two separated by only a chain. “We can’t leave through the exit line. Not with them there.”

“I know.”

“But they’re pretty far back in the entrance line,” she observed.

Finn’s skin was crawled. How to explain any of this to his parents? “So we’re trapped. I already had that much figured out.”

“But they’re just standing there, waiting.”

“So?” Finn asked.

“So, we’ve got to get them to move,” she answered.

“And how are we supposed to do that?” he asked sarcastically. “Call them on their radios and tell them they’re wanted somewhere else?”

Amanda’s brow knit tightly, deep in thought. “They’ll move if they see you.”

“What? Are you crazy?”

“Shush,” she cautioned him. “Come on!” she said, taking him by the hand. He wasn’t sure why, but he let her take charge. There was something about her confidence that reassured him. It felt almost as if she’d been through this kind of thing before—the way she stayed so calm; the way she studied the situation carefully. She led Finn quickly under a chain, behind the hearse, then between it and a low brick retaining wall. She peered around the hearse, monitoring the two security guards. “When I say, ‘Go,’we go,” she instructed.

“Ah—” Finn said, having second thoughts.

Amanda watched. The line was moving along, but the two security guys remained near the Mansion’s entrance.

“Go!” she hissed.

Together they hurried into the open, ducked under a chain, and cut into the entrance line. A bunch of people moaned and groaned. A few openly complained. But as the line surged, Amanda and Finn moved with it.

Amanda was no giant, but she was an inch taller than Finn. She rose onto her tiptoes, looked back, and warned, “Okay…here they come.” She tightened her hold on Finn’s hand. Together, they moved with the line, which surged again. A few seconds later, they were inside the Mansion.

Amanda kept watch behind them.

Finn and Amanda stepped into the Stretching Room—a hexagonal space twenty feet across.

Portraits hung on the walls. Finn had just begun to feel safe, when, as Amanda tensed, he looked back and saw the two security guys enter—the last two people into the Stretching Room before its doors closed.

Amanda rose up. “Uh-oh,” she said.

“What?”

“They’re pushing their way over here.”

The Stretching Room, jam-packed with people, did not make movement easy.

A loud voice boomed over the speakers, welcoming the visitors to the mansion. It warned them not to lean against the walls. The lights dimmed. Finn didn’t need to stand on his tiptoes to see the two blond heads coming toward them.

Amanda pulled Finn down into a crouch. Together, they ducked and moved through the crowd. It seemed that the floor was beginning to sink. It looked and felt as if they were going down, down, down, in an elevator. The walls stretched. The ceiling receded above them. Even the oil paintings stretched longer.

“We’re cooked,” Finn said.

“No,” Amanda said, still leading him. “We’re okay.” They reached a far wall.

Finn glanced back. The two guys were still pushing through the crowd toward them. “You’re dreaming.”

“We’ll use the chicken door,” she said.

“The what?”

“When I was something like five years old, I completely freaked out in here. Screamed my lungs out. Totally lost it.”

As she said this, the room’s floor stopped moving, the painted portraits now stretched grotesquely. A dead man dangled from a noose attached to the ceiling. Some kids shrieked.

Amanda continued, “My mom got me out without having to ride the Doom Buggies. It’s called the chicken door.”

“Here they come!” Finn cautioned in a whisper. But just as he said it, the crowd surged, pressing Finn against Amanda.

“Perfect timing,” she said, smiling.

The two security guys got stuck in the jam, still a few yards away.

One of the wall panels opened like a door. The crowd—fat people, sweaty people, smelly people, bald people, and two teenage kids—lunged ahead.

The moment the door opened, Amanda took Finn by the hand and tugged. They hurried out into the dimly lit corridor leading to the Doom Buggies.

“Run!” Amanda whispered. “We have to hurry.” She led him through an unmarked door immediately to the right. Finn found himself in a narrow, dimly lit corridor. Ghoulish sounds in the distance. Amanda ran, with Finn following closely behind her. She proved herself a very fast runner. It’s almost as if she’s flying, he thought.

Seconds later, they headed through yet another door. Outside again, they were only a few yards from where they’d been sitting only minutes earlier, the black hearse and the Fastpass line to their right. The entrance/exit was straight ahead.

The air came alive with the sound of piped-in music and the steady rumble of park guests talking.

Amanda glanced back at the Mansion. Her eyes went wide, and he knew they were in trouble. She practically pulled his arm off as she drew him into a small gift shop. They ducked behind a carousel of postcards.