Fun World

by Kirk Withrow

  Eric stared in disbelief as the suspension bridge rocked and swayed. For an instant, he wondered if the combined weight of so many people might cause the bridge to snap, until he thought about the rigorous over-engineering that typically went into everything at Fun World. He knew Lila and he were in trouble the moment the first person stepped foot on the Treehouse’s landing. People raced up the stairs, and the zombies raced after the people. In a matter of seconds, the parade of death had already made it to the first floor. Through the cracks between the floorboards, Eric saw that some of them were forced to fight the undead or risk being taken down. Most were taken down in spite of their efforts.

  Pushing Lila toward the stairs, Eric said, “Head upstairs. Now.”

  The concern was evident in her father’s voice, so she didn’t question his command. She started up the staircase, taking them two at a time whenever her little legs allowed it. Eric hesitated for a moment before flipping the bed on its side and dragging it over to the stairs that led up to their level. The frantic cries of the tourists as well as the zombies’ feral snarls echoed through the Treehouse—both growing closer by the second. He hated what he was about to do, but he only had to think of Lila to find the resolve. With a hard shove, he sent the bed sliding down the stairwell. The rest of the furniture in the room soon followed, the end result being a sizeable impediment that would at the very least delay anyone trying to climb the stairs. He knew his decision could cost the lives of some of the tourists trying to escape from the zombie horde, but they had jeopardized his daughter’s safety when they’d led the undead monsters into the Treehouse. As painful as it was, he was willing to pay such a price to preserve her safety.

  Without another thought, Eric turned and dashed up the stairs behind his daughter. Seconds later, he stood next to Lila on the top floor, roughly six stories above the ground. The crowd of people and zombies frantically scrambling in their direction felt like a turnscrew slowly tightening down upon them. Scanning the platform, he found what he was looking for on the far side. Lila watched the full spectrum of emotions pass through her father’s eyes as he traced the path of the second set of stairs out of the Treehouse. The emotion that ultimately took root when his gaze came to rest on the fourth floor left her more afraid than ever.

  Until that moment, Eric hadn’t paid much attention to the fact that the stairs between the first four levels were twice as wide as those leading to the top two floors. The realization that this was necessary to accommodate two-way traffic on the one and only set of stairs connecting the lower floors to one another hit him like a punch to the solar plexus.

  “Oh shit,” he said, his mind reeling from the implications of his discovery.

  Despite the chaos engulfing the Treehouse, all sound faded away for Eric. Only then did he truly understood that he’d made a critical error by overlooking one of the most important tenets of survival in any situation: always maintain a means of egress. For a brief moment, the sinking sensation in his stomach made him feel as though he’d accidentally fallen over the railing.

  Sprinting back across the platform, Eric leaned over the railing to get a better read on the situation. What he saw made him sick to his stomach. The makeshift furniture blockade he’d created on the stairwell was still in place. One of the tourists had scrambled halfway over the obstacle before a zombie clamped down on his calf, halting his forward momentum. The mauling that ensued after a second zombie joined in the fray virtually guaranteed no one was getting past the barricade in either direction anytime soon.

  When the rest of the group saw the zombie feeding frenzy taking place in front of them, they tried to turn back but were met by several more of the undead shambling up the stairs behind them. Like trapped animals surrounded by bloodthirsty predators, they frantically scanned their surroundings, desperately looking for a way out. Finding none, the small band of people reached for anything they could use as a weapon. From what Eric saw, they managed to hold their own, at least initially. A metal stanchion, a dull wooden knife, and a bamboo chair were all employed to lethal effect. When one of the undead fell, another took its place. The room seemed to grow smaller as the floor grew slick with blood.

  During the scuffle, the lady with the wooden knife lost her footing and went down screaming as an elderly zombie collapsed on top of her. The bamboo chair sailed through the air in a last ditch effort to thwart the zombie surge. Although it missed its intended target, it clipped a glass lantern sitting on a small table. The antique oil lamp that was intended to accentuate the Treehouse’s primitive feel crashed onto the ground, shattering into a hundred pieces.

  Feeling at least partially responsible, Eric could hardly bear to watch the terrible scene unfolding below. Still dumbstruck, he felt the slightest pull on his arm. As the intensity of the incessant tugging increased, the soft but urgent voice finally registered in his ears.

  “Daddy! Please! The smoke is making it hard to breathe,” Lila pleaded.

  Smoke? His daughter’s words merely added to the overwhelming confusion and disbelief currently stomping mud holes inside his head. He’d been so taken aback by the misjudgment that now left them in a situation that might well cost them their lives that he hadn’t even noticed the smell of smoke or the black plume billowing up from below. Man’s natural aversion to fire kicked in, and he was instantly sucked back into the moment. It was then that he realized things had gone from bad to worse. Flames spewed forth from the propane line that had allowed the now-shattered lamp to remain lit for nearly two thirds of every day without needing to be refilled. Because a significant portion of the structure was constructed of wood and other highly flammable materials, the entire third level was ablaze in a matter of seconds.

  Perplexed by what he was seeing, Eric said, "Why the hell would anyone put an actual flame inside a damn tinderbox like this?" It was a rhetorical question, though he wouldn’t have had time to wait for an answer had one been forthcoming.

  The fire spread with mind-boggling speed, shifting the need to find a way out of the Treehouse from pressing to right this damn second. Smoke blackened the air, making it increasingly difficult to see and breathe. With the only staircase currently blocked by fire, furniture, and zombies, Eric racked his brain for a way out of the inferno. Peering over the edge through the smoke billowing upward, he saw the ground more than fifty feet below. Heat from the flames below rushed upward between the cracks in the wooden floor. In that moment, he began to understand exactly what caused people trapped in burning buildings to leap out of impossibly high windows despite the certain death awaiting them on the ground.

  “Daddy!” Lila cried, the desperation in her voice growing by the second.

  The sound of his daughter’s voice hit him like a jolt of adrenaline, and he sprang into action. Moving primarily on instinct, he rushed toward the sound of her voice and found her standing wide-eyed in the increasingly heavy smoke. Without pause, he grabbed her hand and bolted down the staircase on the far side of the platform. Even though the visibility on the fifth floor was worse, a small break in the smoke gave him a fleeting glimpse of something that he hoped could change everything.

  Gripping Lila’s hand tightly, Eric moved blindly through the smoke. He kept the snapshot of what he’d seen in his head and prayed it would be enough to guide him to the spot. A moment later, his hand brushed against the rough fibers of the coiled rope hanging on the wall. The heat on that section of the platform was more intense, so he snatched the rope off the hook before retreating back to the other side. Once he reached the railing, he took a moment to inspect the rope he’d found. The half-inch manila rope appeared to be in fairly good condition. Although he would have certainly preferred a high-quality dynamic climbing rope, he was in no position to be picky. He thought it looked as though it was long enough to reach the ground, but by now, smoke obscured virtually everything. Whatever it is, it’ll have to do. Anything is better than the alternative… The idea of ending up like of one the countless burn victims he’d taken
to the hospital over the years was more terrifying than any of the zombies he’d encountered.

  Working as fast as his memory allowed, he fashioned a harness on one end of the rope, slipping it over Lila’s head and under her arms. He stood on a short table and tied the other end to a support beam with an anchor knot. After putting all his weight on the rope, he was satisfied with the integrity of the setup under the circumstances.

  “Okay, sweetie, I’m going to lower you to the ground. Take the bat and keep your eyes peeled for the ground. The smoke is too thick for me to see what’s below, so call out to me if I need to stop or hoist you back up. Got it?”

  Lila nodded in response to her father’s words, though she was far from comfortable with the plan. Her uncertainly grew tenfold when Eric lifted her up and set her on the railing. Her legs dangled precariously above the smoky abyss. She tried to be strong but was powerless to stop the tears from flooding her eyes as she focused on the infinite gray all around her. A second later, the world was pulled out from under her, and she felt as though she were flying. Like most kids, she’d daydreamed about flying on countless occasions, but none of them had been like this. Far from a dream, the inability to see more than a foot in front of her made it feel like a weightless nightmare. With no visual frame of reference, she couldn’t even tell if she was moving.

  Although Eric had no way to know exactly how much time he had before the fire reached him, the rising temperature assured him that it wasn’t long. Working hand over hand, he lowered the rope as quickly as possible. His forearms burned with the exertion and it took all the mental energy he could muster to will his muscles to keep working. Whenever he felt that he could no longer keep his grip, he found the strength to persevere by envisioning the terror on his daughter’s face as she plummeted to her death.

  Eric gripped the rope in preparation of lowering Lila another foot but found the tension on the rope was no more. Panicked, he pulled back on the rope and found that it rose with ease. Did she fall? Lila hadn’t cried out. He leaned out over the rail and squinted to see through the impenetrable blanket of smoke, but it was no use. He huffed in frustration just as something grabbed the back of his left arm. Whatever it was felt simultaneously sticky, scratchy, and hot. Since Lila was down below, he didn’t need to think about who or what it might be; there were no good possibilities.

  Jerking his left arm forward, Eric spun and fired a right elbow over his shoulder. The elbow found its mark as it slammed into the zombie’s temple, sending it reeling to the side. Knowing that his little girl was down there, he resisted his instinct to toss the undead monster over the rail. The vile thing was perhaps the most disgusting he’d seen, as it had been so badly burned that it looked like a walking charcoal briquette. As it had refused to relinquish its grip on his arm, the skin on its palm pulled away like the crispy outer shell of a marshmallow that had been roasted over a campfire for too long, leaving only a gooey mess in its place. Eric couldn’t understand how such a thing could even exist let alone try to attack him. As caustic as the smoke was for his respiratory system, he was thankful that it masked the smell of the zombie’s burnt flesh.

  Not waiting for the crispy zombie to launch its next attack, Eric turned back to the rope dangling over the nearby railing. Although it seemed like a lifetime ago, he thought back to the fast rope training he’d received in the military. This rope was only a fraction of the diameter of the ropes they typically used, and he didn’t have any rope gloves. Hanging near the edge and not yet consumed by the flames was a string of multicolored square flags that reminded him of those he’d seen in photographs of Mt. Everest. Deciding they were better than nothing, he tore two of the thin cloth panels from the string and quickly wrapped them around his hands. The chargrilled abomination was back on its feet and reaching for him just as he disappeared over the railing.

  He gripped the rope tightly despite the fact that his arms already felt like jelly after lowering Lila to the ground. He began picking up speed the instant he left the railing. Thick smoke obscured his surroundings, eliminating any frame of reference with which to gauge his rate of descent. He tried to bring his feet into play in hopes of slowing his momentum, but the narrow rope remained elusive. In a matter of seconds, the rope itself felt as though it was on fire as the friction burned through first the thin cotton fabric and then the skin of his palms. His hands screamed in pain, and it was all he could do to hold on. To be honest, he wondered if the rope might have embedded itself so deeply in his flesh that he might actually have trouble pulling his hands free. A guttural cry pierced the air, and then…silence.

  9

  Bright light, intense heat, caustic smoke, angry snarls.

  One blurry fragment at a time, the details crept back into Eric’s addled brain. Although every part of him hurt, he was relieved to be able to move both of his arms and legs. A particularly intense pain in his hands triggered his memory of the rope, and he suddenly remembered how he’d come to be lying in the dirt. He rolled to his side but couldn’t see anything through the dense smoke. The acrid air burned his lungs, eliciting an exceptionally painful paroxysm of coughing. He opened his mouth to call out for Lila, but his throat felt as though it were filled with sand.

  As though she’d somehow sensed his wordless attempt to call out to her, the sound of Lila’s voice broke through the smoke. It was so faint that it sounded like it came from another world. While the roaring din of the fire drowned out what was being said, the reverberations made it impossible to ascertain the direction from which it came. He gazed around bleary-eyed, hoping to see his little girl through the haze. Her words continued to come, gaining strength and urgency with every passing second.

  “Daddy...smoke…have to…too hot…hurry…closer…”

  Still dazed, Eric struggled to make out what she said as he continued scouring the area for her. The fire raged to his left, roaring louder than Larry the Lion on a feeding frenzy as it consumed the Treehouse. Heat radiated intensely from the massive conflagration. Finally, Lila burst through the smoke like a real-life angel emerging from the clouds. Rushing over to where he lay, she knelt down and said, “Daddy, you have to get up. The fire’s getting bigger and the monsters are coming.”

  Lila tugged on his arm with all her might as she spoke. Even though confusion still reigned supreme over his jumbled thoughts, he understood the urgency behind her words. Taking her lead, he scrambled to his hands and knees and followed her back into the smoke. He felt the searing heat behind him and realized she was leading them away from the fire. A moment later, the ground seemed to vanish as he tumbled forward, end over end.

  SPLASH!

  Despite the initial shock of the cold water that stole his breath away, the stark contrast to the inferno he’d left behind was strangely glorious. He felt weightless as every part of his aching body found reprieve in the cool water. Still submerged, he opened his eyes and saw only faint rays of light poking into a vast brown, murky world—free from fire, and free from zombies. The silence was peaceful, and for a moment, he wished he could stay there forever. Ahead of him, the monotonous brown expanse was broken when a leg kicked through the water. Lila!

  Eric’s feet found the bottom and he pushed himself to the surface. Drawing a huge breath of air, he was delighted to discover that there was far less smoke in the area. His mind felt sharper, as though the shock of being submerged in the cold water had cleared his head. Seeing Lila a few feet in front of him, he half swam, half walked to her.

  “Are you okay, sweetie?”

  She wrapped her arms around him, nearly knocking him over in the water. “I thought you were dead when I heard you scream and found you lying on the ground.”

  Whether due to cold, fear, or both, Lila’s body trembled as he held her tightly. Glancing over his shoulder, he watched the top of the enormous Treehouse collapse as the fire continued consuming everything in its path. Several flaming objects plummeted to the water’s surface, where they fizzled out. Not wanting to take any c
hances, he and Lila began slowly wading downstream.

  Eric was about to ask if she had any idea where they were, when a big gray elephant trumpeted loudly before spraying them with water. A sign located near the animatronic elephant’s feet read Welcome to the Amazonian Voyage. He recalled seeing the ride earlier in the week, but they’d passed on riding it due to the inordinately long line that had wrapped halfway around the attraction. Now, wading in the “river’s” water, he was surprised to find that it was no more than five feet deep. The dark brownish-green hue made it impossible to judge the depth or to see anything below the surface. He assumed it was dyed intentionally—just another part of the Fun World illusion. Regardless, the river provided a nonflammable route away from the blazing inferno. In addition, he hoped the water would at least hinder the zombies he expected to continue chasing them.