High-pitched laughter jolted me awake as the jester raked his sharp teeth and fingertips across the thick iron bars of our cage.

"Rise and shine, sleepies! Hope you rested in peace, hee hee!"

I groaned and rubbed my forehead. It was just as sore as the back of my head, which had uncomfortably rested between the bars. As I opened my eyes, I saw the reddish pink haze of a sun very low in the sky. The deep blues and purples of early dawn hadn't yet been broken. I thought it must be like 7 a.m., if we were even in the same time zone as home.

Across the cage, the girls were confusedly lifting their heads, caught between their typical wakeup routine and adjusting to this frightening new reality.

"I thought I was going to wake up," Anna mumbled. "For the second time."

"Sorry, you're never waking up from this nightmare! And now I set you free to walk the carnival grounds… if you dare!" Suddenly he sighed, looking thoughtful. "I suppose you need to eat," he said, and waved his arms.

The girls startled, as some of the carnival workers, truly horrific beings, started to lurch forward with platters in their hands. The cretins, who had nails through their eyes and bulging bags of fat under their arms, looked like decrepit, inbred mutants from Appalachia.

"Thanks," Melissa said cheerfully, even though I could tell it was forced.

I shot her a look. What are you doing? I mouthed, and she shook her head.

The jester, looking more evil by the day, smiled at Melissa, but it was a twisted smile of sharp teeth and lurid red lips that were too large for his face. There was no nose - it was a hole like a skeleton would have, and two large white eyes sat in deep sockets.

"You got a name?" I asked, as the platters were dropped in the cage.

"Umlaut," the jester said, surprising me. It was that easy, huh?

"Umlaut," I repeated, botching the pronunciation. "I'm Dylan."

The food was strange, in a way, but only because of however early it was in the morning: hotdogs, fresh from the steamer, popcorn, and slices of pizza.

We lunged at the food and devoured it without tasting. To be honest, it was subpar, but typical carnival food where everything kind of tastes like the inside of a greasy cardboard box. I grabbed two hotdogs in hand and a slice of pizza in the other.

The field had the cold scent of early morning dew and stale manure, and thick forests surrounded it. The sun was rising in front of me, so that meant East was in that direction, but it was also behind a thick wall of carnival tents and food trucks and glowing lights. Behind me, an ancient roller coaster that totally looked safe rose in silhouette, winding through more stalls, games, and a ferris wheel.

Hmmmmm…

The clothes I was wearing now were really stiff and uncomfortable and looked like they were two hundred years old: a starchy, stained shirt with a high collar, suspenders, a newsboy cap, and thick pants that looked faded, like a farmer wore them every day forever. The cap didn't do much for my hair, which was long in the back. To make matters worse, I had on stiff leather shoes that probably had no soles and looked like oxfords.

In other news, the cart still was full of hay that smelled like gasoline and we were still trapped like rats.

With food still in hand, we found ourselves suddenly standing in the middle of the trampled, grassy field, surrounded on all sides by the carnival. The wagons in this area were almost certainly the ones that housed the carnival as it traveled (whenever), but now they were dilapidated with fading and peeling paint, broken wheels and yokes with no horses or oxen. Umlaut was gone, but the henchmen were still there, watching us eagerly, like we were something to eat.

"Enjoy your time at the Carnival," Umlaut's disembodied voice called from across the sky.

We all jumped.

"Ride the rides, see the shows! But if you're caught out TOO late... then who knows!"

A giant clock appeared in the center of the clearing, glowing and ticking. Right now, it read 7:30 a.m.

"What time should we come back?" John called to the sky.

There was no answer.

"Maybe we should split up," Anna suggested. "Cover more ground."

"Yeah...you go your way, and we'll go ours," Melissa said, laughing to herself and crossing her arms.

"Wow, Melissa," I said. "You know she just lost her dad, right?"

"And, so?" Melissa snapped.

"So cut her a break already," I said. "If Anna hadn't accidentally summoned the carnival of all evil, surely one of us probably would've."

Anna was looking at the ground. I don't think she liked people bringing up her dad.

"Sorry, I said."

She shrugged.

"I think splitting up is a great idea," John said. "Like, in groups of two or three. See what we can find out."

"Great," Melissa said. "I get Carissa and Brian."

"Let's draw straws," John said. "To make it more fair."

"We don't have straws," Beatrice said, "but maybe we can play like, spin the bottle."

Rob was silent.

We took turns blindfolding each other and spinning with outstretched pointer fingers.

Sure enough, Melissa picked Carissa.

"You cheated!" Heather snapped.

Melissa shrugged. "Yeah, whatever you say."

Soon enough, we had Beatrice, Heather, and Brian, and that just left Anna and Rob.

"We have to find Mr. Cainson, too," Anna said.

Carissa rolled her eyes. "Oh my god," she said.

"Well, she's right," Beatrice snapped.

"She's obsessed with him and everyone knows it. It's super pathetic. He's not even attractive. Ooooh, Mr. Cainson! Be my daddy!" Carissa giggled and fell into Melissa.

"Shut. UP!" Brian hollered, in a tone that made them stop cold. "Do you wanna get out of here or not? We have to work together."

We regrouped and each stared at different portions of the carnival: Rickety Town, which looked to be the rides and food court, the Haunted House (self-explanatory), and the Freak Show.

"Let's do the Freak Show," I told Anna, who shrugged in response.

"We'll do the Haunted House," Heather said, and Beatrice blanched.

"That leaves Rickety Town," Brian said.

"Right, but what time do we need to get back?" John said. "There's this huge clock and no answers."

"What was it he said?" Heather mumbled to herself. "Ride the rides, and see the shows, and don't stay out too late."

"Too late," Beatrice called immediately. "Too..TWO! Anyone have a watch?"

Nobody did.

"We'll just have to hope for the best, then," John said.

"No."

We all turned.

Rob was sitting hunched on the ground, his fingers laced together over his shins. "No. We should just sit and wait here."

"What do you mean, dude?" Brian snapped. "Because you're butthurt that you got yourself into some trouble?"

"Brian," Anna muttered. "Watch it."

"No, Anna, I will not 'watch it,'" Brian growled. "This idiot wanted to be a smartass and test the jester. We are all on the team and we all contribute. All for one, and one for all, until we get out of here."

"I'm not going." Rob's eyes were swollen and red, like he hadn't slept and was crying all night.

Brian looked like he wanted to pick Rob up by the scruff and shake him.

"You think the carnival goes away on its own, or what?" I asked, trying to take the attention off the clearly-damaged Rob. The kid that was sitting in a puddle of his own misery wasn't the best friend I knew. And I felt partially guilty for egging him on and goofing off to see what the jester would do.

"I don't know." John and Heather raised their arms in confusion.

"Maybe we can kill everything," I shrugged.

"Well, first we gotta wander around. See what we can find out," Brian said. "So let's split up. Rob can stay here and be safe. I'm sure nothing can happen with all of us gone." He gave Rob a biting look, and then turned away.

I walked over to Anna and touched her shoulder. "You ready?" I asked. "I don't think there's any part of this that's going to be pleasant."

Anna was pale, but resolute. Her frilly frock of a dress looked rididculous, but kinda pretty.

"Yeah, let's go," she said. "Maybe there will be an axe or something we can grab.

"That's my girl," I said.

She looked at me queerly.

As we turned to face the freak show, a gate of a man's writhing eyes and gritted teeth, I noticed a small, lit stand beside the gate.

"Oh look, guys, a shooting gallery!" I called.

"Those aren't real guns," Brian said. "It's a carnival."

I grabbed one of the pistols and released the magazine. It certainly wasn't a fake gun.

"For you," I handed it to Anna.

"I'm more of a swordsman," she said. "But I'll do my best."

We grabbed rifles, grenades, and pistols, and then I saluted Brian before we again faced the gate.

"Okay," Anna breathed, hunched over her gun in her dress. "Let's go."