Fun World

  FUN WORLD

  A ZOMBIE TALE

  KIRK WITHROW

  Fun World: A Zombie Tale

  Copyright © 2019 Kirk Withrow

  All rights reserved.

  No parts of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the copyright owner.

  This is a work of fiction. Any similarity between the characters and situations within its pages and places or persons, living or dead, is unintentional and co-incidental.

  Also by Kirk Withrow

  Four

  Threnody

  Riposte

  Miasma

  Barrage

  1

  Ninety-five minutes.

  Eric Durst couldn’t remember waiting in line that long for anything in his entire life. It felt like an eternity had passed, and they’d only moved a few feet. That he hadn’t been eager to spend his precious vacation time in the godforsaken park in the first place only made matters worse. He’d argued that braving throngs of ravenous tourists in the “most wonderful place in the world” during one of the busiest times of the year and in the midst of a burgeoning flu epidemic wasn’t the brightest idea, but his pleas had fallen on deaf ears.

  “Stop being so dramatic. All of the media’s scaremongering is making you paranoid. I’d say the fact that people like you are too chicken to travel makes it the perfect time to go. Besides, Fun World’s prices haven’t been this low in years,” his wife, Melanie, argued. Eric knew her derisive tone and sardonic smile were meant to get a rise out of him. He also knew her lighthearted jabs were sure to have the desired effect. They always did.

  “Chicken, huh? That’s not what you were saying last night,” he said with a wry smile that elicited a cautionary glare from his wife. “And how many times do I have to tell you, I’m not scared of shit? Except maybe clowns…but what sane person isn’t scared of those evil bastards? Look, I just think staying around here would be far more relaxing than diving headlong into that corporate cesspool of greed, psychological manipulation, and rampant consumerism. Didn’t you read Dante’s Inferno in school? You know Fun World was modeled after the fourth circle of hell, right?”

  At forty years old, the last place Eric wanted to go to was Fun World. Sure, he knew it was less for him and more for his eight-year-old daughter, Lila. But even she seemed a bit old for a kiddie park in his mind. He personally couldn’t recall any age in which he’d ever wanted to be subjected to such torture. It sounded miserable any way he thought about it, which was saying something considering he’d been through basic training. Then again, he always looked at things a little differently than most people he encountered. To him, Fun World was the embodiment of everything that was wrong with society, and vacationing at the premier destination theme park was completely at odds with who he was as a person.

  Traveling, in general, had never been one of Eric’s favorite pastimes. Virtually everyone he knew was continually preparing for his or her next weeklong trip to somewhere. He simply didn’t find the same enjoyment in it, a characteristic that utterly perplexed his friends and family. Over the years, he’d come to understand that the uncertainty of being away from everything he knew always proved to be stressful and, frankly, irritating. He often wondered if it was an unintended consequence of his military experience, as if the whole “travel the world and see exciting places” mantra had somehow backfired in his case. Familiarity, on the other hand, was far more relaxing and thus far more comfortable. He was a creature of habit and didn’t much care for changes in his routine. Heading out of town for a week was akin to taking a filthy shit on his routine and flushing it right down the toilet.

  Eric wasn’t a stickler to the point of being inflexible. On the contrary, he possessed an uncanny ability to improvise and make do in virtually any situation. This quality had served him well during his military career and continued to do so in his current job as a paramedic. If he were honest, his love of routine was far more selfish: he liked being in control, and he liked being able to do what he wanted when he wanted to do it. At home, he could go to the gym and train whenever he wanted. He could enjoy the company of his friends—if he wanted. He could sleep in his own bed. This strong streak of self-determination had been one of the main reasons he hadn’t reenlisted at the end of his military commitment. Always being told what to do and when to do it had never sat well with him.

  In addition, Eric wasn’t a fan of crowds, and definitely not crowds of annoying strangers. People tended to be irrational, impulsive, and selfish—qualities that often grew exponentially whenever a large group amassed. Crowds of people were far too unpredictable for his liking. He understood that his wife and daughter didn’t share his views, and the dichotomy proved to be a constant struggle.

  Melanie and Eric had been happily married for nine years, and in that time, he’d more or less come to terms with many of her quirks, including her unwavering resolve. When her mind latched onto something it did so with the tenacity of a pit bull on meth. It was one of the things he loved most about her—and one of the things that drove him the most insane. This time, the latter sentiment definitely came out on top.

  When Melanie recruited their beautiful little girl to her side of the argument, the futility of his opposition became abundantly clear. With blonde hair and electric blue eyes, she was the spitting image of her mother in every way. And just like her mother, she seemed to have his number. As a strong, proud man that wasn’t easily swayed by anyone, Eric still marveled at their uncanny ability to bend him to their will. If he were honest, it was a power that he found somewhat frightening. You know what they say: if you can’t beat ’em, join ’em. Despite arguing his points until he was blue in the face, it seemed his wife and daughter found Fun World’s “magic” far more alluring than trivialities like logic and reason. Double-teamed and left with no choice, he finally wilted and reluctantly accepted the path of least resistance rather than continuing to fight a battle he was certain to lose.

  Now, six months after his fateful decision, Eric and Lila stood helplessly corralled in a mile-long queue surrounded by a thousand mindless automatons, nearly all of which bore an inexplicably cheery expression. What the hell are all of these sheep smiling about? The path of least resistance my ass…I’ve never been more wrong about anything in my life. I can’t believe I caved so easily. The ride’s irritating theme song filled the air, swirling around him like a fly he could never kill. Looking down at Lila, he smiled at the only reason he was there at all. Just one more day… You’ve survived far worse than this. Even as he thought it, he wasn’t entirely convinced it was true. This was miserable.

  Eric had put off going to the Happy Little World ride for as long as possible, but the wait time never seemed to drop below an hour and a half. It was the attraction that Lila had wanted to ride more than anything else, and this was their last day in the park. From the beginning of the trip, Eric had envisioned Melanie accompanying Lila on the jolly little adventure through the land of a million creepy puppets. One glance at his wife’s bloodred eyes that morning told him that wasn’t going to happen. She’d coughed so violently overnight that the tiny blood vessels in her eyes had ruptured, giving them the appearance of a couple of maraschino cherries sitting in her skull. Her pale, mottled skin hung loosely from her petite face, making her look a decade older than she had the day before. It was nearly as striking as the before and after photos they showed on PSA’s about the dangers of methamphetamines. Although he would never say it, she looked like death warmed over. The little asshole voice in the back of his mind began chanting, “I told you so,” but he immediately silenced it. He was as guilty as the next guy of sayi
ng stupid things from time to time, but he wasn’t a complete idiot, and he certainly didn’t have a death wish.

  Patting her head softly, Eric said, “Sorry you’re feeling so bad, honey. I hope you’re not coming down with the flu. I’m sure Lila would understand if we headed home a bit early.” The heat radiating off her skin made him worry that her condition might be more serious than she was letting on.

  Melanie smiled weakly and replied, “Not a chance. Don’t worry about me. You two go and have fun on our last day. I’ll hang out here and get some rest.” Her pallid skin accentuated the redness around her eyes and nose. For a brief moment, Eric considered recommending that she see a doctor, but Melanie’s stern look made it clear that the only thing he was going to do that day was head back into Fun World for one last hurrah.

  Standing in the never-ending line, Eric wondered how Melanie was doing, and a part of him couldn't help feeling jealous that she was back in the quiet hotel room. Never mind the fact that she was more than a little under the weather. Being trapped in the middle of all of these people with no avenue of escape was a nerve-racking, claustrophobia-inducing experience. He couldn’t move more than a few inches in any direction before colliding with some oblivious park-goer. The line snaked forward with painful slowness, folding back on itself time and again as it did. He knew that the configuration wasn’t by accident; it maximized the number of people that could be crammed into the allotted space while simultaneously offering the illusion that the line was shorter than it really was. Those sneaky bastards...

  After one such switchback, Eric found himself standing directly across from a morbidly obese, middle-aged guy sporting a matching Fun World T-shirt and hat. The fat man smiled lamely, flashing his coffee-stained teeth in the process. Eric felt his soul sink a little lower. Large, damp circles that were trying like hell to reach one another spread outward from each armpit of his slightly undersized Fun World T-shirt. The bottom edge of his rotund belly poked out from under the shirt as though trying to find a little breathing room.

  Perhaps the most irritating, albeit iconic, things in all of Fun World were the hats. Designed to look like the park’s mascot, Larry the Lion, a pair of fuzzy ears surrounded by a halo of fur intended to be a lion’s mane protruded from the man’s head. It was ridiculous and, frankly, shameful. It was also everywhere Eric looked.

  The sweaty man coughed loudly every few seconds, only managing to cover his mouth about a quarter of the time. It was a thick, chunky sound that made Eric want to flinch as if to get out of the way of whatever was sure to be hurled from the depths of the man’s obviously diseased lungs. Cover your mouth, asshole! What a douchebag! What is it about situations like this that make people forget about things like basic human decency? Eric was no doctor, but he thought the man looked like every conceivable malady rolled into one corpulent package—a supersized, shit burrito of sickness. Eventually, the line crept forward, and he was relieved to see the fat man disappear around the corner.

  One by one, the patrons ahead of them inched toward the ride’s darkened entryway. Eric couldn’t help but envision a bunch of masked kids marching along a conveyor belt right into a meat grinder. The sound of Pink Floyd’s “Another Brick in the Wall” flooded his mind for a brief moment before it was drowned out by the attraction’s relentless theme song.

  Although this was the longest line Eric had been forced to endure at Fun World, it was far from the first one the park had thrown his way. Earlier that morning, they’d waited nearly an hour for Lila to get an autograph from a guy dressed in a lion costume. His heart sank the moment he caught sight of the big cat, knowing there was absolutely no way he was going to be able to sneak past Larry the Lion, Fun World’s ubiquitous mascot, without Lila noticing him.

  Larry the Lion was Fun World, and his smiling yellow face was everywhere—Fun World movies, merchandise, and even television shows. It was his domain. He was the friendly cartoon face of the multibillion-dollar corporate machine—a happy, iconic figure that symbolized pure goodness in the eyes of nearly everyone on planet Earth. Eric, for one, wasn’t seduced by the feline’s garish grin. If anything, his time in the park had afforded him a deeper understanding of the operation’s dark inner workings. That no one else seemed to recognize it was maddening. Doesn’t anyone else see the irony in Fun World’s mascot being a caricature of a ferocious carnivore capable of tearing each and every person that steps foot into the park to shreds?

  For the past week, Eric had seen countless little boys sporting cheaply made, overpriced costumes of their favorite hero and little girls decked out in gaudy princess attire that would’ve made even the most flamboyant drag queen gag. Moms and dads, no doubt disgruntled with the banality of their everyday existence, followed along doggedly, hoping to transport themselves back to a time when childhood adventures and fairy-tale endings still existed—if only for a few days. Although it took him the entire week, he soon came to realize that Fun World worked because people desperately wanted it to. Before coming to the park, he’d merely considered it to be mindless entertainment, but after witnessing the glazed eyes, trancelike movements, and herd mentality on full display, he understood that it was more about everyday discontentment, escapism, and the cultural affirmation that everyone else was in the same boat. Despite everything, Eric had to admit that Fun World was masterful in its execution.

  As the king of Fun World, Larry the Lion lorded over a slew of lesser characters with an iron claw: Lucy Lion, their dog Buster, and his best friends, Freddie and Fergie Frog among them. Over the years, many new characters had been added, including a harem of second-rate nymphs disguised as princesses and damsels in distress. Together, they paraded around the park filling little girls’ minds with unrealistic expectations and false hopes about life. The entire place teemed with characters whose sole objective was selling movies, merchandise, and the illusion that all of it might actually be possible. Seeing how completely the lion controlled the oblivious masses made Eric think of Hitler, only with fuzzy ears instead of red armbands and fully loaded checkbooks instead of machine guns.

  Eric saw right through the façade. In his mind, Larry the Lion was the kingpin of greed and corporate manipulation. He was evil incarnate. Melanie was always extremely defensive whenever he shared this perspective. Realizing that his wife had clearly been indoctrinated from an early age, he did his best to avoid ever commenting on the matter. Few things could incite an argument like religion, politics, and criticisms of Larry the Lion and Fun World.

  While the sight of Larry the Lion made Lila beam with joy, all Eric could think about were the hundred or so kids already lined up to meet the fuzzy yellow bastard. Undeterred by the crowd, Lila eagerly pulled her father toward the burgeoning group assembling around the mascot. What kind of asshole job is dressing up as a cartoon cat all day, anyway? Eric imagined an incorrigible pedophile named Chester sweating profusely inside the heavy costume. I’m hotter than Satan’s ball sack in jeans and short sleeves. The thought of Chester breathing heavily as he put his filthy hands all over the children made Eric’s blood boil hotter than the merciless noon sun overhead. When they were just two kids away from the front of the line, the lion’s bubbly chaperone—a bleach-blonde woman in her late twenties with a nametag that read Tina—said, “All right, kiddos, it’s time for me and Larry to head back to the watering hole for a spell. We’ll be back in an hour or so.” Like a cow chewing cud, her jaws worked with exaggerated movements as she smacked her gum loudly.

  Aside from the unnaturally bright colors that could only be considered camouflage at a 1980’s rave, Tina’s outfit called to mind that of a jungle explorer. Her artificially gleeful visage was unflappable. It repelled the children’s saddened expressions with impunity, while the parents’ furious glares rolled off of her like water from a duck’s back. It was obvious that she didn’t give two shits about any of these kids. Eyeing the lecherous sneer permanently affixed to Larry the Lion’s face, Eric imagined the furry feline would probably be
banging Tina before the end of their lunch break. What the hell is wrong with me? Listen to what this place is doing to me. I’ve got to get out of here before it crushes my entire soul!

  A moment later, the Happy Little World line came back into focus as Eric’s dark reverie was shattered by a pudgy kid with a round face smeared with ice cream who drove his bulky backpack into the rear of Eric’s leg for what felt like the hundredth time. Having been unceremoniously pulled away from his unpleasant memory, Eric found himself in the midst an equally painful reality. At once, he was inundated by a truly rank smell—a yeasty odor like bread dough that had been left in a hot car combined with the faint scent of feces. A wave of nausea instantly swept over him. Damn, that kid smells like an actual shit sandwich!

  “Please get me another funnel cake, momma! I’m starving!” the fat kid whined as the chorus of children continued belting out their ceaseless jingle over the loudspeakers.

  Face flushing, Eric closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. Just when he felt he was finally going to explode, a small hand found its way into his. He glanced down to see Lila staring up at him. Once again, her genuine smile reminded him of why he’d agreed to this in the first place. She proved to be the antidote to his irritation, and his face softened instantly.

  “I love you, Daddy,” she said.