Fun World

by Kirk Withrow

  Coiled like a snake ready to spring into action if the need arose, Eric waited to see what the young woman would do. Lila, for her part, kept smiling at the disheveled woman. After a moment, the woman softened and moved toward Lila. Eric took a step forward instinctively but then paused. If the woman noticed, it didn’t stop her from walking toward Lila. When she reached the younger girl, she knelt down and wrapped her in a tight hug. Lila didn’t seem to mind though Eric thought the hug lasted for a few seconds beyond what he deemed as a socially acceptable amount of hold time.

  When the woman finally pulled away, Eric noticed that Lila had a cosmetic counter’s worth of makeup on her shirt. He also noticed that the woman’s expression was markedly different, as though she’d deposited the old one onto Lila’s shirt along with the smeared makeup. Now she bore an odd, creepy grin—one that was just a little too bubbly for the situation and with a touch too much giggle mixed in. And, of course, her eyes—he could see the white all the way around. Full on crazy eyes. Although she seemed harmless enough, every new detail added to a growing sense of concern building inside of Eric.

  With both of her hands resting on Lila’s arms, the woman nodded toward Eric and asked, “Is he your prince?”

  Confused, Lila replied, “Wait, what? Him? No, that’s just my dad. My name is Lila. What’s yours?”

  A perplexed look of uncertainty washed over the woman’s face momentarily but her crazy eyes never faltered. “My name is Emily. Emily Sanders.”

  When Lila turned and pointed to her father for the purpose of introduction, Eric realized that subconsciously he’d been backing away slowly as though trying not to agitate a feral animal.

  “But you are a princess, aren’t you?” Emily asked hopefully.

  “I…I guess so, maybe…I’m not sure,” Lila said, looking to her father with the hope that he might be able to help her with the bizarre line of questioning.

  Lila’s answer must’ve been good enough, because Emily relaxed noticeably. Much like her facial expression, her entire demeanor changed, as though she’d just upshifted into to a full-blown manic episode. Eric recalled seeing a study that found that people who made the pouty duck face in selfies had a significantly higher likelihood of being neurotic and emotionally unstable. Maybe Emily was the pouty duck face girl and the zombie apocalypse just gave her a little nudge. Regardless, the way in which she started rambling told him that emotional stability wasn’t something she’d had to deal with recently.

  In a matter of minutes, Emily divulged nearly her entire life story without even being prompted to do so. As it turned out, she was twenty-seven years old and had come to Fun World with her five best friends and future bridesmaids for a weeklong bachelorette party. Who has a weeklong bachelor or bachelorette party, and at Fun World of all places? What happened to Vegas and strip clubs? I can only imagine the special package deal Larry the Lion offers for such occasions… An image of the fuzzy lion gyrating mid-lap dance entered his mind uninvited. Emily was there as well, and she was giving the lion a run for his money while the clones egged the whole thing on from the sidelines. When he wondered whether the fur would be tickly or itchy, he realized he needed to pull his mind back to the present.

  Emily was still talking while Lila looked on politely. It was clear that the younger girl had been lost from the word go but was trying her best to keep up. Eric took the opportunity to chime in when Emily took a rare moment to catch her breath.

  “Where are the rest of your people now, Emily?”

  “Oh, my girls, the rest of the princesses, should be back any minute. They probably just went to get us some margaritas or something. You know there are only a couple of places that sell that sort of thing in the park,” Emily said confidently.

  “I see. Do you mind if I ask why you call yourself princesses?”

  Emily gave him a look that told him she thought he must have the brainpower of a single-celled amoeba for asking such a stupid question, but she went on to answer him anyway.

  “Well, my girls and I just love this place. I mean, we’ve been here like a thousand times. We all just really relate to the princesses and have really, like, embraced the princess way of life, you know,” Emily answered matter-of-factly.

  “I see,” Eric replied. He was at a complete loss for words. It was starting to sound like Emily had been a closet nutjob for many years but was now absolutely batshit crazy. He knew the type—the kind of girl that looked like a nine or ten from across the bar but turned out to be a three or four taking into account the cuckoo factor. Although he wasn’t looking for a date, he was still torn between trying to help her and running like hell to get away as fast as possible.

  “Emily, do you know what’s going on at Fun World? I mean do you know about the bad things happening out there?” Eric asked, hoping not to perturb the young woman too severely with his line of questioning.

  “You mean, all the assholes here this time? I swear, I don’t know what the hell is wrong with people these days. There were like, so many fights. Even girls were fighting. Don’t they get it; Fun World is a place of wonder and happiness. It’s like they don’t even respect that anymore,” Emily said disgustedly. She looked at Lila and added, “I’m sorry for swearing. It’s not very princess-like.”

  Eric stood contemplating how best to inform Emily of the reality of the situation and the very high likelihood that her friends were gone forever. Before he came up with an answer, Lila spoke, “Emily, you should look outside. It’s so much worse than that now.”

  Accepting the invitation, Emily walked over and stood on the other side of Lila. Prior to that, it didn’t appear as though she’d noticed what had been taking place outside the Princess Palazzo for the last two days. Her jaw dropped when she saw the undead procession passing in front of the building. Although the young lady appeared to have gone over the edge at least a few times already, the visual confirmation of Fun World’s impending demise clearly sent her base-jumping off of the cliff of sanity. She pressed a trembling hand to her mouth, unable to utter a sound. Collapsing into a nearby chair, she could only shake her head as tears began welling up in her eyes. When Lila placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, Emily let out a loud sob.

  For the first time, Eric felt like he could relate somewhat to the young lady. He recalled that terrible moment on the Happy Little World ride when he’d come to accept what was happening. It was a difficult and painful experience, but one that had been critical to Lila’s and his survival. He hoped they could use their experience to help ease Emily’s transition to the world’s new paradigm and ultimately help her survive as well. For now, he knew his role was to stay quiet and give the young lady time to work through everything that was coming at her all at once. He understood that couldn’t happen instantaneously, but she had to start somewhere.

  Emily’s crying eventually settled down to a quiet whimper. When the vise grip of despair loosened enough for words to pass through her throat, she started in on a snot-laced, tear-drenched, rambling monologue.

  “Oh God, my poor friends,” she said, as though only just learning of their probable fate. “This is all because of those damn margaritas. I told Lindsay she should just suck it up and wear the bra flask because she has the smallest tits out of all of us, but she was like ‘I know you didn’t just say that, you bitch.’ If she would’ve only listened, those small tits could have saved everyone.”

  Almost as an afterthought, she added in a low, venomous hiss, “And now, I don’t even have any bridesmaids.”

  The more she talked, the angrier and more animated she became. Rather than peering around aimlessly as she had been up until this point, her eyes locked onto the zombie horde like heat-seeking missiles. Her increasingly frenetic gesticulations now had a clear target.

  Jabbing her finger in the air repeatedly, she growled, “You fuckers might have ruined my wedding, but you better not harm my sweet Jeffrey. If any one of you dirty bastards so much as lay a finger on a single hair on his head, so he
lp me God, I will cut your filthy balls off and shove them down your throat.”

  Taken aback by her harsh words, Lila stared wide-eyed at the fuming young lady. Although her colorful language surprised Eric as well, it was her hand movements that really struck him. They carried so much emotion that he could almost visualize everything she was saying. Even his nuts seemed to notice her hostility, as he felt them retreat ever so slightly.

  Before Eric had a chance to share what he’d learned about the nightmare devouring Fun World, Emily saw something that flipped a switch somewhere in the cavewoman recesses of her deranged brain. For the second time, he saw a dramatic shift in the unstable girl’s mentality. If she’d gone from quiet and reserved to manic and emotional before, she was now in full-on, enraged psychopath mode.

  “Oh, hell no, motherfucker!” she shouted, sounding more like an inner-city gangbanger than a member of the privileged upper middle class mourning the loss of her former sorority sisters.

  Eric couldn’t see what had set her off, but whatever it was already had her scrambling to her feet.

  “No you don’t, you nasty bastard,” she snarled through gritted teeth. Tiny flecks of spittle spewed out with each word. It was then that he finally saw the source of her rage.

  Shambling past the restaurant’s front window was a zombie that had been mangled to the point that it was impossible to tell whether it had been male or female in life. Its face was so caked with blood and gore that it appeared as though its skin had been flipped inside out. One of its calf muscles had been torn free from its bony attachments behind the knee and was being dragged along like a ball and chain shackled to one of the characters from the pirate ride. He didn’t think it was the zombie’s gruesome injuries that sparked Emily’s ire, but rather it was its choice of attire that had the young girl’s goat. The undead tourist was a walking Fun World advertisement, with every article of clothing still remaining on the thing’s ruined body representing some facet of the park and its brand.

  Eric had seen his share of insanely fanatical Fun World loyalists during his time in the park, but this zombie stole the show hands down. The obligatory Larry the Lion hat sat cockeyed atop its head, smeared in blood and with one ear bent hopelessly backward. He could still make out most of Fun World’s cast of characters despite the bloodstains splattered all over its T-shirt. A lanyard with more theme park pins than a waitress at Chotchkies hung around its neck. Bouncing on its waist with each step was a neon green fanny pack that featured a picture of the lion showing his best “I just jumped out of a birthday cake” surprise arms. What the hell kind of person wears a fanny pack, anyway? Trailing behind the monstrosity-turned-zombie was a Fun World accoutrement that Eric hadn’t seen before: a fuzzy lion’s tail. That thing has to be a homemade, custom job. Surely no one would actually purchase such an item.

  Only after considering the former person’s unwavering commitment to the Fun World ethos in conjunction with its subsequent complete and total annihilation did Eric begin to understand what fueled Emily’s fury—the unabashed assault on Fun World and everything it represented. The zombie would’ve been better off denigrating her God, family, and country for the wrath it had unknowingly called down upon itself. Her crazed eyes never deviated from the fiend that had awoken the hellcat inside her.

  Suddenly and without warning, Emily snatched the club out of Eric’s hand and started for the front door of the Princess Palazzo. By the time he realized what she was about to do, it was too late. She raised the stick in one hand and jerked the glass door open with the other. With her face smeared with mascara like war paint of the social elite, she unleashed a bloodcurdling scream so intense that it rivaled that of a teenager who’s been locked out of her Instagram account for two days straight.

  “You don’t deserve to wear that hat, you rotten son of a bitch!” she yelled in a voice so filled with venom that it made Eric touch his head to make sure he wasn’t the intended recipient of her vitriolic words.

  A second later, Emily was carving a path through the zombie horde like Moses parting the Red Sea. Unfortunately, her path didn’t lead to the Promised Land. Her first swing connected with the zombie decked out in full Fun World regalia, sending its Larry the Lion hat hurtling through the air like a Frisbee. The sickening crack heralded the beginning of the end for the abomination that had drawn Emily into their midst, as its head lolled unnaturally to the side before the thing collapsed into a crumpled heap. Pivoting, she used the momentum of her turn to drive the club into the skull of a nearby zombie that hadn’t yet noticed it was in a fight. The blow staggered the undead fiend, but it was the follow-up strike to its knees that sent it to the ground. Several vicious overhead strikes finished the job started by her first hit. Despite breathing heavily, she spun in search of her next target, desperately needing an outlet for the feral rage that was threatening to reach critical mass within her.

  Eric had doubted Emily had ever had any formal martial arts or combat training in her life but as he watched her plowing through the undead horde with reckless abandon, he became less sure. He’d heard of instances where seemingly helpless individuals found themselves in threatening situations, and rather than cowering in the corner, they channeled some dormant inner savage that turned out to be so ferocious not even the most violent perpetrator was prepared to handle it. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, right? Emily’s sleeping demon was certainly of that ilk; she took down zombie after zombie with such brutality that he almost had to look away on several occasions.

  Emily fought with the vehemence of every Jerry Springer catfight rolled into one raging dynamo, and it seemed apparent that the monsters falling victim to her attacks were paying the price for every infraction she’d ever endured. Daddy didn’t get her the doll she wanted for her birthday. THWACK! Her friends didn’t invite her to the big sleepover. THWACK! Becky said her new outfit was so last year. THWACK! Bobby asked Samantha to prom instead of her. THWACK! Mommy and Daddy said two hundred people was too many for her wedding guest list. THWACK! She was fighting for her world, for love lost, and for her love of the lion and the park. THWACK! THWACK! THWACK!

  Eric lost count of how many zombies went down under the club Emily wielded so ruthlessly. He wasn’t sure, but he thought she’d probably taken out more zombies with the club in the last two minutes than he had during the last two days with the makeshift weapon. Even though it was just a chunk of wood, it was solid and hard as hell, and he’d grown attached to the thing. He heard Emily bellow “over my dead body” as the remaining zombies closed ranks around her. Although she fought as valiantly as a person could, their numbers were simply too great. The undead monsters gobbled up the space required to swing the club, rendering her attacks increasingly ineffective. A second later, she disappeared beneath a twisted mass of reanimated corpses like a downed running back under an entire offensive line.

  Given that the front door remained open and she had gone down roughly twenty feet from the entrance, every horrible sound filtered back inside the Princess Palazzo. Eric heard no screams of pain, though he could only imagine the agony she was enduring. On the contrary, he thought he heard continued jabs and defiant taunts coming from within the gory heap. Although muffled by the press of bodies, “bring it, you bastard” and “you’re gonna pay for that” managed to reach his ear more or less intact. Her resistance was short-lived, however, and soon all that could be heard were the sloppy sounds of the zombies greedily devouring their kill.

  11

  Eric never saw Emily again, aside from the brief, surreal moment when her severed head surfaced atop the mob as though it was crowd-surfing. Resting upside down, it moved as if being passed from one zombie to another before disappearing back into the fray. In the end, he knew all that would remain was a greasy red spot on the pavement and a few indistinct clumps of ravaged clothes and tissue. His club would also be there lying amongst the zombie detritus, and he made a mental note to see if it could be retrieved when and if he ever passed through th
e area again. As much as he loved that stick, he sincerely hoped he never would.

  Having been so awestruck by Emily’s sudden barbarity, neither Eric nor Lila noticed the first zombies scrambling toward the Princess Palazzo’s open door until they were nearly inside. “Daddy! They’re coming in!” screamed Lila, and they were. At least a dozen zombies crowded the entrance, with more right behind them.

  Not wasting a second, Eric grabbed Lila’s hand and the pair raced toward the kitchen at the back of the restaurant. He felt like kicking himself for his carelessness. Such a loss of focus, no matter how transient, could easily cost them their lives, but he had no time to dwell on it. The sounds of tables and chairs being clumsily nudged out of the way behind them told him that the undead were right on their tail. They burst through the swinging double doors and found the kitchen just as it had been the day before. It still smelled like a rotting shit sandwich marinated in puke, though it didn’t call up the same visceral response it had previously, perhaps due to acclimation. He found the idea of actually getting used to something so foul to be a little disconcerting. It was brighter in the kitchen because of the daylight filtering in from the windows looking out into the dining area. Not wanting any surprises, Eric glanced over to ensure that neither of the chefs had decided to get up and get back to work. Truly dead, the two men appeared just as he’d seen them the day before. Without slowing, Eric and Lila maneuvered around the islands and countertops crowding the room on their way to the back door. Lila looked over her shoulder just as Eric reached for the door. She instantly realized it was a mistake, as the shadow cast by the zombies silhouetted in the kitchen’s doorway made them seem larger than life and far closer than she hoped they were.