Fun World

by Kirk Withrow

  Much to his chagrin, Eric tried to tease apart the disparate sounds but found the task nearly impossible. Although it had been less than forty-eight hours, it seemed his brain had already assimilated the new-world horrors, making them an indelible part of his current reality, even though it had been less than forty-eight hours. In the back of his mind, he understood that this was likely a big part of why he and Lila hadn’t become two more blood-soaked cries echoing across the dying land. He’d watched denial usher so many people to their demise at the hands of the undead monsters.

  It wasn’t long before they heard the first sloshing sounds, accompanied by the rasping snarls of the zombies that had followed them into the river. Too tired to move, he and Lila remained deathly still and just as quiet as the small horde slogged through the water, past the point at which they’d exited the river. He prayed the monsters wouldn’t find them, as he didn’t have an ounce of energy with which to fight them off. He didn’t know if smell factored in to how the zombies tracked their prey, but if so, he wondered if the water had rinsed away their scent as, one by one, the zombies continued downstream, following the path of least resistance.

  Eric let out the breath he’d been holding as the sounds of the waterborne horde slowly faded into the distance. Although he was certain there were more zombies shambling around just beyond the flora, he felt relatively safe for the time being owing to the excellent concealment provided by the thick foliage. Even so, he knew they needed to find a more secure place to rest and regroup before nightfall. Once he’d had time to catch his breath, he motioned for Lila to come in close. In a whisper, he said, “I’m going to crawl to the edge of the brush to see if I can figure out what’s happening and where we are. I want you to stay put. I’ll signal if it’s safe for you to join me. Okay?”

  Lila nodded wordlessly. There was strength in her eyes despite the fear etched on her face. Eric tousled her hair as he offered his most reassuring smile. He hoped it was more encouraging than it felt. Rolling onto his stomach, he low crawled toward the walkway situated beyond the vegetation’s edge. Slowly and silently, he inched forward with the deliberate movements of a sniper stalking his target. He was well aware of the cost of being discovered by the zombies, and it took him nearly ten minutes to cover the ten feet between his current position and the walkway.

  Peering between the thick, waxy leaves of the young rubber trees lining the trail, he saw a veritable zombie army. Undead monsters—too many to count—were packed together shoulder to shoulder less than three feet in front of him, all shambling in a westerly direction. Having seen no evidence of any real cognitive ability amongst the zombies, Eric assumed something was drawing them in that direction. What it was, he had no idea. He’d seen how they responded to sound, though he didn’t recall hearing anything of note. Admittedly, his attention had been far more focused on Lila and him not becoming a late snack for the skinhead zombie than on anything that might be happening elsewhere in the park. Far more concerning than the reason the horde was moving in that direction was the fact that they, too, needed to head west. West was the main gateway to the park. West was Melanie. West, he hoped, was their ticket out of this nightmare.

  A burgeoning sense of panic flared in the pit of his stomach, burning a hole like an ulcer, as he thought about the prospect of trying to navigate around the great wall of undead. He felt his vision narrow as though the flora itself were closing in, threatening to choke the life out of him. Overwhelmed and discouraged, he closed his eyes and lowered his head despite the proximity of so many zombies. Their ferocious snarls converged to form a foreboding wall of sound nearly as impenetrable as the horde itself.

  All of a sudden, terror ripped through his mind when he felt a small, cold hand clamp onto his shoulder. The ensuing adrenaline surge made his heart feel like it might literally punch a hole through his chest as it thumped loud enough for every zombie in a mile radius to hear. His eyes instantly snapped open as he spun, drawing his arm back reflexively in the process. As hard as he tried, he wasn’t ready to face the monster he feared had slipped up behind him. He was no more prepared for the relief that flooded through his body when he saw Lila’s frightened eyes behind him. The dramatic shift felt like he’d been driving 150 miles per hour and someone pulled the emergency brake.

  “Are you okay, Daddy? I didn’t mean to scare you,” she said in a voice so sweet it seemed impossible that it could even exist in the same universe as the undead horde marching nearby.

  Still unable to find his voice, Eric merely nodded in reply. With his heart still pounding, he couldn’t help but wonder if he would ever again have a normal reaction to someone sneaking up behind him. He raised a finger to his lips with one hand and motioned for Lila to stay down with the other. Hidden in the foliage, they watched with horror as the endless torrent of zombies shuffled past.

  Aside from ragged bite marks, torn and bloody garments, and the absence of kids screaming about cotton candy and snow cones, the group really didn’t look much different from those he’d observed pouring through the park on previous days. They possessed the same soulless expressions, mindless herd mentality, and complete disregard for the personal space of others that he’d witnessed during his time in the park. He even noticed nearly as many Larry the Lion hats bobbing amongst the sea of zombies as he’d seen at any given time in Fun World, pre-apocalypse included. Strange as it was, the group almost looked more peaceful without the insatiable drive to be first in line at the next attraction.

  The cavalcade of carnage went a long way toward answering Eric’s question of what had happened to the thousands of Fun World patrons after this thing started. He had to have watched nearly a thousand zombies pass in the last fifteen minutes alone. Every age, race, and gender was represented in force. Some seemed relatively unscathed, while others dragged the mangled remains of torsos across the ground, sinewy viscera trailing along like streamers behind the floats of Fun World’s daily Jolly Jamboree Parade. The fact that no one will ever have to sit and wait for that pompous feline and his annoying procession of princess starlets to pass by might be the best damn thing about this whole shitstorm.

  After several minutes, they’d seen enough. Humanity’s destruction on full display was simply too much to bear. Regardless of Eric’s opinion of Fun World, the park and its ideas represented a microcosm of human existence, and it had been violently destroyed along with everything else. It was abundantly clear that trying to make it through the densely packed horde would be tantamount to suicide. They needed to find another way around or at least a place where they could hide long enough to wait them out. He’d heard of an extensive tunnel system running beneath the park’s surface, but he had no idea where the access points were located. As scary as it sounded to venture into a labyrinth of poorly lit tunnels while zombies roamed the land, he realized that it might be the safest way to move around and might even offer an alternative way out of the park. He made a mental note to be on the lookout for a means of accessing the tunnels.

  For now, Eric scanned his surroundings, looking for anything that might help him gain his bearings. A signpost jutting out above the sea of zombies informed him that they were in a section of the park known as Action World. Based on his recollection of the park’s layout, the next section over was the park’s main thoroughfare, Broadway. Several buildings loomed to the right, and an arrow pointing toward them indicated that they were shops and restaurants. While the wall of zombies was positioned between Eric and Lila and the majority of the buildings, there was one situated on the same side as them.

  Soundlessly, Eric and Lila slunk back into the foliage before heading west. Careful to stay out of view of the things lurking on either side, they followed the river, moving parallel with the zombie horde until they neared the large building. Even though they approached it from behind and there was no sign in view, Eric immediately knew what it was. There was no mistaking the royal chateau design, the kitschy fairy tale vines, brightly colored flowers, and images of pixies
flitting about on its façade—the Princess Palazzo. Of all the places I could’ve ended up in this massive park, it just had to be this place. Whatever happens, please don’t let me die inside this hellhole. The last sentiment came as an afterthought, and he hoped there was still someone or something around to listen to such earthly requests.

  Like the large palace situated in the center of Fun World, the Princess Palazzo had been a gaudy, atrocious place well before the zombie apocalypse swept through the park. It was the type of place that over-Xanaxed, pretentious trophy wives who enjoyed dressing their little girls up to look like twenty-year-old street workers and carting them off to every beauty pageant under the sun would get multiorgasmic over. Thinking back to the interior of The Gold Rush, Eric wasn’t too keen on finding out if the Palazzo had fared any better, but with little daylight remaining, he didn’t have a better option. Well, I guess it couldn’t be much worse than the last time I saw the place.

  When Eric and his family had walked past the restaurant on their first day at Fun World, he’d noticed that it had only two types of employees: exceptionally fit, overly tanned males with impeccable hair, wearing uniforms designed to make them look like princes, and smoking-hot, anorexic, model-type girls dressed in elaborate princess gowns that showed way too much cleavage and made the simple act of walking a physics-defying feat. It wasn’t that he had a problem with cleavage; on the contrary, it just didn’t seem like the right venue for such voluptuous displays.

  Nevertheless, little girls would line up around the block for a chance to dine with the princesses while being served by the princes that attended to their every need. To Eric, it was everything wrong with Fun World concentrated in a single building that looked like a worn-out Hollywood backdrop. Given how sensitive people were with respect to gender equality and stereotypes, he couldn’t understand why those so quick to point out every perceived moral flaw they encountered had seemingly given the Palazzo a pass.

  For the rest of that first day, every time Eric saw a princess, he couldn’t help but think about the unintended psychological trauma inflicted on the young girls who became caught up in the park’s so-called princess culture. The messages they conveyed weren’t secretive, and he didn’t agree with any of them: physical beauty is priority one, find a strong man to take care of you, and there will always be a happily ever after, to name a few. In Eric’s mind, it was a bunch of idealistic bullshit that he’d hoped wouldn’t corrupt his little girl into becoming self-absorbed, superficial, and submissive. Although neither had asked him, he’d given Melanie and Lila a look that said there wasn’t a chance in hell he was going any closer to the establishment. Now as he walked toward the Palazzo, he wondered if the purveyors of those ridiculous princess values thought this nightmare was going to have a happily ever after as well. In all likelihood, they were but a few moans in the zombie chorus currently shuffling through the park and not thinking anything at all.

  10

  As they approached the back of the restaurant, the sounds of the zombie horde intensified. Fortunately, the space behind the Palazzo appeared to be free of the undead. Eyeing the service entrance, Eric hoped to find it unlocked, as had been the case at The Gold Rush. He inched forward and grabbed the knob, and it turned with a satisfying click. He reached into the backpack, which was still wet from the day’s river expedition, and retrieved the kitchen knives he’d picked up at The Gold Rush. With a cautious look in his eye, he handed one of the blades to Lila, who accepted it without question.

  “Just in case,” he added softly. She nodded as if to say she had it covered.

  Although Eric would have preferred to make sure the building was safe before Lila entered, he wasn’t keen on leaving her outside alone with so many zombies close by. Stick in one hand and knife in the other, he nudged the heavy door open with his foot. Images of a huge undead jack-in-the-box came to mind, and he braced for anything that might come lunging out at him. Nothing did. When he heard no sounds to indicate the presence of any immediate danger inside, he gave Lila a sidelong glance and nodded before stepping inside. She followed right on his heels, her knife, like his, at the ready.

  What the Palazzo was lacking with regards to the smell outside the door, it more than made up for inside. The majority of the kitchen’s interior was as dark as any building he’d been in, owing to the lack of windows that opened to the outside. Only a small emergency light glowed in the corner. Eric felt along the wall and flipped the light switch, but nothing happened. Damn. The power must be out. That light must be running on some sort of backup power.

  What Eric could see was an absolute mess, and it smelled like a slaughterhouse thanks to the two dead chefs lying in a heap below the light on the far side of the room. Neither of them moved. The odor was so vile he thought at least one of the dead men must have sustained a gut injury of some kind. He’d encountered such injuries before and had endured the nauseating smell more times than he’d like to recount, sometimes more successfully than others. Perhaps the worst time had been when his father gutshot a deer while they were hunting. It had taken them several hours to find the animal, and when they did, the smell was overwhelming. He could still recall that noxious mixture of shit, piss, blood, bile, and bacteria marinating in the hot afternoon sun. The scent currently assaulting his nose was a dead ringer for that odor and left him feeling as though he might puke at any moment.

  Pulling his shirt over his mouth and nose, Eric eased forward to peer through the window on the swinging door leading to the main dining area. The meager light coming in through the front windows made it difficult to discern much detail about the room itself. For a brief moment, he thought he detected movement in the main dining area, but then it was gone. When he saw nothing else inside, he chalked it up to his mind playing tricks on him. Outside, however, he saw a shocking number of the undead still moving along the walkway in front of the restaurant. Even though the full-length glass windows that made up the front of the restaurant were intact, their presence was about as comforting as a suit of armor made out of newspaper. The round dining tables were massive, so he wasn’t sure they would be the easiest to use as reinforcement. As he glanced around looking for anything else he could use, he noticed the stairs and elevator leading up to the second floor dining area. Not wanting to repeat the mistake he’d made at the Treehouse, he was relieved to see the matching set of stairs on the opposite side of the large kitchen. They would make an excellent back door for escape if needed.

  Turning to Lila, Eric whispered, “Come on. Let’s check out the upstairs. I think we’ll be safer up there.”

  They crept up the stairs without making a sound, weapons at the ready. When they reached the top landing, Eric motioned for Lila to hold her position while he scouted the area to ensure it was safe. With the sun nearly set, even less light filtered in through the smaller windows on the top floor of the dining hall. Eric eased forward slowly, giving his eyes time to adjust to the waning light. He was so hypervigilant about anything that might be hiding around a corner or behind a table that he failed to see the fork lying on the floor. A kick from his boot sent it skittering across the floor. It stopped when it clanged loudly against one of the table’s metal bases. The sound was deafening given the relative silence that existed inside the dead restaurant.

  Eric looked down at the floor instinctively, just in time to see the feral little monster bare its teeth and wrap its tiny hands tightly around his ankle. It pulled hard, dragging itself toward Eric’s leg with surprising speed. Before he had time to formulate an appropriate response, he let out a loud shriek while simultaneously kicking his legs and flailing his arms wildly as though he’d just walked through a spider’s web. He felt the zombie’s grip fail as he stumbled backward. He watched in terror as the zombie girl did some demented rendition of a low army crawl. Bloody stubs protruded from beneath the thing’s pink, puffy princess costume, flopping from side to side with every movement. In a way, it reminded him of the odd manner in which Lila had first craw
led when she was a baby. The big pink ribbon hanging loosely in the monster’s hair dangled in front of its eyes, making it look like he was being attacked by a feral set of snapping teeth wearing a hair bow.

  The undead princess moved with surprising speed, and he barely had time to get his leg up before bringing it down hard against the thing’s face. He felt bone and teeth give way as the undead girl listed to the side, but she didn’t stop coming. Her head cocked to the left, and Eric zeroed in on the thin bone of her temple. He thrust the kitchen knife forward and immediately felt the zombie girl shudder and go limp, teeth no longer snapping.

  The fact that this monster had been a young girl was just sinking in when Eric heard Lila’s shrill scream pierce the air. He was on his feet in an instant. Looking back to the place where he’d left her, he saw a trio of zombies closing in around her. Previously trapped in the princess character dressing room, the three undead divas had been riled up by the commotion in the dining area. They’d pressed into the door, fists thudding randomly, until a chance swing caught the door’s handle. The three former women, dressed in elaborate evening gowns made of satin, organza, and lace that made them look like they were preparing for the zombie prom, exploded out of the room as though finally freed from the fairy tale tower in which they’d been held captive. In the dying light, the ballet-slipper pink, sky blue, and seashell white sharply contrasted their dead, gray skin. Their dresses ballooned out considerably from their tiny waists as though supported by a substantial crinoline. When pressed together, they formed a textile bulwark that looked more impenetrable as an NFL defensive line.