As we entered the gates to HorrorLand, we had no idea that, in just a few hours, we would all be lying in our coffins.

I’m the calm one in the Morris family. Everyone says, “Lizzy, you’re the calm one.” And I’m trying to tell this story calmly.

But believe me—there’s no way!

We had never planned to go to HorrorLand. In fact, we’d never heard of it.

The five of us were squeezed into Dad’s little Toyota, on our way to spend the day at Zoo Gardens Theme Park. Dad had messed up and left the map at home. But Mom said the park would be real easy to find.

When we got close to the park, Mom said, there would be lots of signs to direct us. But so far we hadn’t seen a single sign.

Dad was driving, and Mom was beside him in the front. I was squeezed in back with my little brother, Luke, who is ten, and Luke’s friend Clay.

It wasn’t the best place to be. My brother cannot sit still for a second. Especially in the car. He just has too much energy. And he’s totally goofy.

The longer we drove, the more restless Luke became. He tried wrestling with Clay, but there really wasn’t room. Then he tried arm wrestling with him, and the two of them kept bumping me until I lost my temper and started shouting at them to stop.

“Why don’t you three play Alphabet?” Mom suggested from the front. “Look out the window for letters.”

“There aren’t any,” Luke replied. “There aren’t any signs.”

“There isn’t anything to look at,” Clay grumbled.

He was right. We were driving past flat, sandy fields. There were a few scraggly trees here and there. The rest was all desert.

“I’m going to take this turnoff,” Dad announced. He took off his Chicago Cubs cap and scratched his thinning blond hair. “Haven’t I already taken this turnoff?”

Dad is the only blond in the family. Mom, Luke, and I all have straight black hair and blue eyes.

In fact, Dad doesn’t look as if he belongs in the same family. The three of us are tall and thin, with very fair skin. And Dad is short and kind of chubby, with a round face that’s almost always pink. I tease him all the time because I think he looks a lot more like a wrestler than a bank manager, which he is.

“I’m pretty sure we’ve already been here,” Dad said unhappily.

“It’s hard to tell. It’s all desert,” Mom replied, gazing out her window.

“Very helpful,” Dad muttered.

“How can I be helpful?” Mom shot back. “You’re the one who left the map on the kitchen table.”

“I thought you packed it,” Dad grumbled.

“Why should it be my job to pack the map?” Mom cried.

“Break it up, you two,” I interrupted. Once they start fighting, they never stop. It’s always best to interrupt them quickly before they really get into it.

“I’m the Mad Pincher!” Luke cried. He let out a gruesome, horror-movie laugh and started pinching Clay’s ribs and arms.

I hate Luke’s Mad Pincher routine more than anything. I was so glad that Clay was sitting in the middle next to Luke and not me. Usually, the only way to stop Luke’s pinching is to slug him.

Clay started squirming and laughing. He thinks everything Luke does is a riot. He laughs at all of my brother’s stupid jokes and stunts. I think that’s why Luke likes Clay so much.

The two of them began pinching each other.

Then Luke shoved Clay into me. “Give me a break!” I cried.

I shoved Clay back. I know I shouldn’t have. But it was getting hot in the car, and we’d been driving for hours, and what was I supposed to do?

“Lizzy! Boys! Chill out back there!” Dad cried.

“Dad, nobody says ‘chill out’ anymore,” I told him calmly and quietly.

For some reason, that made him go berserk. He started yelling, and his face got bright red.

I knew he wasn’t mad at me. He was mad because he couldn’t find Zoo Gardens Theme Park.

“Everybody just take a deep breath and be silent,” Mom suggested.

“Ow! Stop pinching me!” Clay screamed. He gave Luke a hard shove.

“You stop pinching me!” my brother shrieked, shoving him back.

Boys can really be animals.

“Hey, look—a sign up ahead!” Mom pointed as a large green sign came into view.

Luke and Clay stopped fighting. Dad leaned forward over the steering wheel, squinting through the windshield.

“Does it say where the park is?” Luke demanded.

“Does it say where we are?” Clay asked.

The words on the sign came into view as we drove past it. It read: SIGN FOR RENT.

We all let out disappointed groans.

“The Mad Pincher returns!” Luke cried. He gave Clay a hard pinch on the arm. Luke never knows when to quit.

“This road isn’t going anywhere,” Dad said, scowling. “I’ll have to turn around and get back on the highway. If I can find it.”

“I think you should ask someone for directions,” Mom suggested.

“Ask someone? Ask someone?” Dad exploded. “Do you see anyone I can ask?” His face was bright red again. He drove with one hand so he could use the other to shake a fist.

“I meant if you see a gas station,” Mom murmured.

“A gas station?” Dad screamed. “I don’t even see a tree!”

Dad was right. I stared out the window and saw nothing but white sand on both sides of the road. The sun beamed down on it, making it gleam. The sand was so bright, it nearly looked like snow.

“I meant to go north,” Dad muttered. “The desert is south. We must have gone south.”

“You’d better turn around,” Mom urged.

“Are we lost?” Clay asked. I could hear some fear in his voice.

Clay isn’t the bravest kid in the world. In fact, he is pretty easy to scare. Once I crept up behind him in our backyard at night and whispered his name—and he almost jumped right out of his shoes!

“Dad, are we lost?” Luke repeated the question.

“Yeah, we’re lost,” Dad replied quietly. “Hopelessly lost.”

Clay let out a soft cry and slumped in the seat. He looked a little like a balloon deflating.

“Don’t tell him that!” Mom cried sharply.

“What should I tell him?” Dad snapped back. “We’re nowhere near Zoo Gardens. We’re nowhere near civilization! We’re in the desert, going nowhere!”

“Just turn around. I’m sure we’ll find someone we can ask,” Mom said softly. “And stop being so dramatic.”

“We’re all going to die in the desert,” Luke said, with a gruesome grin on his face. “And buzzards will peck out our eyeballs and eat our flesh.”

My brother has a great sense of humor, doesn’t he?

You can’t imagine what it’s like having to live with a total ghoul!

“Luke, stop scaring Clay,” Mom said, turning in her seat to glare at Luke.

“I’m not scared,” Clay insisted. But he looked scared. His round face was kind of pale. And his eyes were blinking a lot behind his glasses. With his short, feathery blond hair and round eyeglasses, Clay looked a lot like a frightened owl.

Muttering to himself, Dad slowed the car to a stop. Then he turned it around, and we headed back in the direction we had come. “Great vacation,” he said through clenched teeth.

“It’s still early,” Mom told him, checking her watch.

The late morning sun was nearly straight overhead. I could feel its warmth on my face through the open sunroof.

We drove for nearly half an hour. Luke wanted to play Twenty Questions or Geography with Clay. But Clay moodily said no. He just stared out the window, watching the desert roll by. Every few minutes, he’d ask, “Are we still lost?”

“Pretty lost,” my dad would reply unhappily.

“We’re okay,” Mom kept reassuring us.

As we drove, the scraggly trees reappeared. Then, after a while, the sand gave way to darker fields, dotted with trees and low shrubs.

I sat silently, my hands clasped in my lap, staring out the window. I wasn’t really scared or worried. But I wished we would at least see a gas station or a store or one other human being!

“I’m getting hungry,” Luke griped. “Is it lunchtime?”

With a long sigh that sounded like air escaping from a tire, Dad pulled the car to the side of the road. He reached across Mom to the glove compartment. “There’s got to be some kind of map in there,” he said.

“No. I already looked,” Mom told him.

As they started to argue, I raised my eyes to the open sunroof above my head.

“Oh!” I let out a cry as I saw a hideous monster staring down at me, lowering its enormous head, about to crush the car.