5

I gave the door another desperate shove, and it sprang open. Sunlight blinded me, but I didn’t wait for my eyes to adjust. I sprinted down the stairs and kept running, as fast and as far as my legs would take me. I didn’t stop to look where I was or who was around—but it seemed as though the fairgrounds were empty. I kept pushing forward. My lungs felt ready to collapse. After I gained some distance, I paused to catch my breath. Sweat dripped down my neck.

Then I heard a sound that made the droplets of sweat on my back freeze into ice crystals. Someone was whistling behind me, a long, slow, creepy melody. I turned, and there he was. The clown, ambling toward me. He was dripping wet.

My mind spun. What if Trevor wasn’t lying? What if the kidnapper really had escaped? What if this was him, coming for me? Mine could be the next face on a missing poster.

I wasn’t going to wait to find out. I took off running again. I didn’t even notice my surroundings. I just kept running. And running and running, until I could no longer hear the whistling.

Eventually I collapsed against the side of a building, my lungs on fire. With a deep breath, I peered around the side of the building. The clown wasn’t in sight anymore. But neither was anyone else. I had no idea where I was. I couldn’t hear any laughter or talking or joyous shouts. I couldn’t see the Ferris wheel. I couldn’t even smell any popcorn.

I pulled my cell phone from my pocket. “Great,” I muttered, staring at the black screen. “It’s dead.”

I stood up and looked around. All that surrounded me were old, rusty tin buildings with no windows. They all looked the same, one after the next, surrounded by trees. It was like the buildings had been plopped down in the middle of a thick forest.

I knew I must still be in the fairgrounds at least, because I hadn’t passed any fences or gates. I turned back the way I came, keeping an eye out for any sign of the monstrous clown. But the path kept going in circles, weaving through the trees and leading me right back to where I started.

I decided to examine the buildings, hoping they could help me figure out my location. These must be storage sheds, I thought as I inspected the garage doors. The thought gave me hope. If they were storage sheds, then eventually someone would come along to grab something or put something away. But, when I looked closer, I saw that most of them had thick, rusted padlocks on the doors. The locks looked like they hadn’t been opened in a long time.

I plopped down against the wall of one building to organize my thoughts. Maybe I was just panicking. Maybe I’d missed another path leading back to the park.

I got to my feet and made my way along the wide gravel path, more slowly this time. The sunshine was gone. Clouds covered the sky, casting everything in a grayish-blue glow. I shivered. I knew I didn’t have much time. The bus would be leaving soon. I didn’t think Ms. Bentley would leave me behind. But what if she did? I’d have to spend the night—or maybe the rest of my life—in this abandoned part of the amusement park. I would die here, and my bones would scorch under the sun.

Maybe they’ll put my skeleton in the House of Horrors, I thought, laughing a little. But my laugh turned into a sob, which echoed back at me.

I wiped my eyes with my T-shirt and told myself to stop crying. I needed to figure out an action plan. But when I stopped crying, I could still hear my sobs ringing through the air.

But wait. That wasn’t me crying. The cries sounded much higher-pitched and more sniffly than mine. They were coming from somewhere else.

I wasn’t alone out here. Someone else was nearby. And someone else was crying.

“Hello?” I yelled. “Anyone there?”

The crying stopped for a moment. Then a voice called out, “Help! Help me!” The voice sounded like it belonged to a little girl.

What if it’s a trick? I thought. But then I pushed the thought away and walked toward the sound.

“Help!” the voice called again, louder this time. I walked faster, making my way toward the voice. As I got close to the building that I thought the voice was coming from, I noticed there was no padlock on the door.

I pushed the door open and stuck my head inside. “Hello?” I said. “Are you in there?”

No answer.

I swung the door open wider and stepped inside. Then I froze. The room was filled with hundreds of clowns. Hundreds! All staring at me with their painted smiles.

The door banged shut behind me. My legs gave out, and I crumpled to the ground.

A hand grasped my shoulder, and I knew this was the end. I was about to meet my biggest fear— death by clown.