A searchlight switched on in the middle of the Ferris wheel as two riders on Indian motorcycles roared toward them.

 “Into the trees!” Jeremy shouted.

            Running for cover, they emerged on the other side. A swarm of clowns waited for them, holding nets, preparing to use their clubs. “Get Um,” they yelled.

            The teenagers ran back into the woods, vaulting over tree stumps and hurdling logs. Bushes tore at their clothes, but they didn’t slow down. Soon the clowns gave up.

            Only the motorcyclists pursued them.

            Jeremy found a long tree branch lying on the ground. “This will have to do!” he shouted. “On Three… ONE…TWO…THREE!”

            They flung it in the direction of the noise.



            “Let’s use the motorcycles to get out of here.” Jeremy said. He sat behind Sissy as their engine roared to life.

Suddenly, a net snared them; they gunned the engine, pulling the clown behind them. Max and Brandon zigzagged to bump it off. It frowned and crumpled to the ground.

            Approaching town, they needed to find a place to hide, but most of the shops were closed.

            Suddenly, a skinny hand beckoned to them from a narrow window.


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