Fun World Read online

  Not willing to give his melancholy thoughts a chance to take root, Eric tried to focus his mind in a more productive direction. He knew dwelling on the negatives of their situation was no more likely to get them closer to safety than wishing for a magic carpet to swoop down and carry them away. Joints popping and back aching, he stood and walked over to the window. The sun had not yet fully risen and the world outside was still an obscure gray mass, its sharp edges and gory details mercifully hidden from view. The glow of the fires he’d seen overnight soon blended with that of the rising sun, until the only evidence they’d existed at all were the thick tendrils of dark smoke rising lazily into the morning sky.

  Glancing around, Eric noticed the two pairs of floor-mounted tower binoculars housed in the small room atop the lighthouse. As it had been dark when they’d arrived the preceding night, he hadn’t paid them much attention. Looking more closely, he saw that they were coin-operated. Given Fun World’s already inordinate prices, he couldn’t help but shake his head at this pathetic attempt to milk a few extra coins out of unwitting patrons. Even as he did, he rummaged through his pockets in search of a quarter. He grumbled when he came up empty.

  Lila smiled as she retrieved the coin her mother had given her before they left the hotel the previous morning. Whenever Lila went anywhere without her, her mother always gave her a quarter in case she ever needed to make a pay phone call. It was an old habit Melanie had picked up from her own over-protective mother back when pay phones were still commonplace. As Lila seemed to derive some degree of comfort from the gesture, Melanie continued the tradition despite the fact that pay phones were now largely relegated to prisons and museums. When Eric saw the shiny coin in Lila’s outstretched hand, he shot her a puzzled look. He was as surprised to see the coin as he was that she’d realized that’s what he’d been looking for.

  “Ah, Melanie,” he said with an understanding nod. Lila’s smile widened.

  Even without the binocular’s magnification, a cursory glance across the water revealed the aftermath of the previous night’s attack scattered all around. As the viewer’s placards didn’t indicate how long the coin would allow it to operate, Eric took a moment to prioritize the locations he planned to survey before dropping the coin into the slot. The moment the viewer’s shutters opened, he almost wished they hadn’t.

  Everywhere he looked, blood, bodies, and bullet holes marred the landscape. In some places, the ground sparkled as sunlight glinted off of a blanket of spent shell casings. Aside from a few branches swaying lazily in the breeze, the only movement he saw was that of countless zombies shuffling about unnaturally. He panned the binoculars around with increasing urgency, looking for any sign of normal life. None was to be found. My God. There were so many people yesterday. Now I can’t see a single living person anywhere. Where could they all be? He tried not to panic, telling himself that anyone still alive and inside the park would surely be hiding out.

  Just before the shutters closed like the curtains on the final act of some demonic play, Eric noticed of a particular group of bodies lying near the bank on the opposite side of the lake. Dressed in black BDUs and tactical gear, the five men—or four and a half to be more precise—appeared to have been part of a military or law enforcement unit. Now, they were just dead. He wasn’t sure what was different about these men and the other innumerable, motionless bodies that precluded them from joining the ranks of the shuffling undead. The thing that really drew his attention, however, was the shotgun cradled in the arms of one of the fallen men. Given all the gunfire he’d heard during the battle, he imagined there would be other firearms scattered throughout the park. By that same logic, he wondered if he would find even a single round of unspent ammunition or if the doomed warriors had fired every last round before ultimately being overrun by the zombies and going out on their shields? There was a soft click, and the image went instantly black.

  Eric let his forehead come to rest on the binocular’s objectives, swallowing hard as the gravity of everything he’d just seen seeped into the crevices of his tired brain. As it did, he felt as though a millstone had been tied around his neck. He was still struggling with the fact that he hadn’t seen a single living soul despite the staggering number of tourists that had been running for their lives at the start of this thing. At the time, it had reminded him of the encierro, or the Running of the Bulls, in Pamplona, albeit quite a bit slower. He’d partaken in that insane event many years ago while on leave from Camp Ederle in Italy. Now, the prospect of being gored to death by a two-thousand-pound, testosterone-crazed bovine seemed like child’s play compared to the monsters he’d faced yesterday. His time in Spain seemed like a lifetime ago, though if he were honest, so did last week in light of everything they’d endured the previous day.

  Where the hell was everybody? Where could they have gone? Surely they can’t all be dead? There had to have been tens of thousands of people in the park yesterday. Were they evacuated or did they manage to find a way out? He’d seen quite a few zombies shambling around but not nearly enough to account for all the people in the park. All of these questions swirled through his brain, simultaneously begging for answers and making his head feel like it might explode. Not wanting Lila to see the evidence of the turmoil going on in his mind, he took a moment longer to regain his composure before looking up from the viewer.

  A low rumble, like thunder echoing across the placid water, broke the silence. Eric raised his head, expecting to see dark storm clouds gathering on the distant horizon. Instead, clear blue skies stretched as far as the eye could see. When the rumbling came a second time, it became apparent that the sound had originated much closer than he’d originally imagined. He turned to Lila, who offered an apologetic shrug as she rubbed her belly. Only then did it occur to him that they hadn’t eaten anything in nearly twenty-four hours.

  “Lila, you must be starving,” he said, more than a little ashamed at not having been more attentive to his child’s needs. That said, he didn’t beat himself up too much over it given everything that had happened since breakfast yesterday.

  Eric’s stomach chose that moment to let him know just how hungry he was as well. Thinking back to the day they’d spent exploring the sprawling island earlier in the week, he couldn’t recall seeing any place that had food. Keeping with the island’s rustic mid-1800s atmosphere, there were no restaurants, and he didn’t even remember seeing any vendors or vending machines. They’d seen a family having a picnic in a clearing beneath a stand of sycamore trees, but the idea of scouring the island for food brought over by other tourists seemed like a waste of time, and maybe even a little dangerous. The painful reality that their existence on the island wasn’t sustainable surged once again, hitting him as hard as the hunger pangs currently tying his stomach in knots.

  While it was true that the zombies seemed to be confined to the mainland, Eric had already realized that staying put on the island wasn’t going to get them any closer to Melanie, or to safety, if such a thing even still existed. In fact, he feared that the longer they holed up on the island, the more widespread the pandemic might become, making it all the more difficult to make it out of the park safely. Pandemic? Is that what this is? He wasn’t certain, but he couldn’t deny that it looked a hell of a lot like every bad Hollywood zombie plague movie he’d ever seen.

  Eric weighed their options, running through each scenario in his mind, hoping to visualize the eventual outcome. After several fruitless minutes of thought, he let out a frustrated sigh. It was no use—every sequence ended in confusion and uncertainty, or worse. He didn’t know if the problem was his general sense of overriding pessimism or the fact that he was processing the information through a mindset that was no longer relevant. The world was clearly a much different place than it had been even a day ago. In fact, the situation had gone so far off the rails that it was hard to be sure which way was up.

  Eric knew several things with absolute certainty, however. There was no food on the island, there were zombi
es roaming the park, and Melanie was back at the resort. In the end, he intended to survive and escape with his family. As hard as he tried to find a way to avoid it, every path led straight through Fun World.

  Several dull thuds interrupted Eric’s thoughts, and he turned to Lila, feeling guilty that her stomach was grumbling again. She returned a questioning look that told him she was not to blame. More muffled banging rang out, and this time it was clear that it hadn’t come from within the room. Someone—alive or undead—was outside, and they wanted in. Either way, the ominous sound made his blood run cold, and he knew that the question of whether to stay or leave had just been answered.

  “It’s time to go,” Eric said, though he sensed she already knew that was the case. “There’s no food on the island, and we need to get to your mother. Besides, I don’t think this place is as safe as I thought.” As if to accentuate his point, the banging outside intensified—constant and uncoordinated.

  If he thought Lila was going to be upset by the prospect of fleeing the creepy lighthouse’s safety, he was mistaken. She was already climbing to her feet before he’d even finished speaking, the look on her face telling him she was more than ready to leave the cold, dreary tower. She kept the musty blanket wrapped tightly around her shoulders to ward off the cool, early morning air, and glancing down the top flight of stairs, asked the million-dollar question.

  “Who do you think is banging on the door?”

  “I don’t know, but I don’t like the sound of it,” he replied as he started moving quietly down the stairs. Though he hadn’t said it, he had a pretty good idea of who, or rather ‘what,’ was trying to get inside.

  When Eric reached the first floor landing, the subtleties of the sound became readily apparent—rasping moans and quiet scratches filled the spaces between shuddering thuds. Such noises weren’t typically associated with people of the living variety, and their presence made Eric curse under his breath.

  Zombies—son of a bitch. How the hell did they make it over to the island?

  At first, he was surprised by his own question, as it implied that he had already come to terms with the fact that zombies existed. Regardless of how they came to be outside the lighthouse door, if they were there, it meant that the island’s one true advantage was now completely null and void. At the moment, he had far bigger problems to deal with, like the fact that the one and only way in and out of the lighthouse was currently blocked by undead monsters trying like hell to get inside. Gone was the sense of sanctuary; the lighthouse now felt more like their place of internment.

  Feeling trapped and defeated, Eric glanced at Lila with concern evident in his eyes. A faint beam of sunlight carved a path through the dust-filled air before settling on her cheek. Following the light to its source, his gaze was drawn back across the room to a small window on the opposite side of the first-floor landing. He moved over to the window and peered through the grimy glass. The world outside appeared surprisingly normal. No zombies, no bodies, nothing but green grass and forest. Eric’s heart surged ever so slightly before his shoulders drooped unceremoniously when he saw the security bars installed inside the frame. Several screws anchored the bars at the top and the bottom. He wanted to scream at his luck. Dammit! Why the hell does a fake lighthouse on Adventure Island need any security at all? There’s not a damn thing in here to steal…

  Aside from the door currently blocked by the zombies trying to get in, the small window was the only other potential avenue of escape from the lighthouse. He recalled that the upper windows weren’t barred, but without any rope or rappelling gear, they were of little use. The last thing he wanted to do was try to outrun a horde of bloodthirsty zombies with a broken leg or a sprained ankle.

  Lila stood alone by the door and pulled the threadbare blanket tightly around her body. She was shivering uncontrollably, as if the cool morning air was penetrating all the way to her bones. Every rap on the old wooden door made her jump. Sensing her distress, Eric opened his arms, hoping she might find comfort and warmth in his embrace. Lila turned to walk toward him, and as she did, her feet became entangled in the musty blanket, sending her lurching forward uncontrollably. Arms pinwheeling, she struggled to maintain her balance as she slammed into the small wooden table set to give visitors an idea of what mealtime on the frontier might have looked like. Although she wasn’t physically hurt in the process, the damage was done. Fake vegetables scattered as the tin dishes clanged loudly to the ground.

  It was the sort of ridiculous incident that slapstick comedy fans couldn’t resist, and were it not for the zombies’ response, Eric would’ve found it impossible not to laugh. Now, however, the effect of the clatter was akin to kicking a beehive, and laughing was the furthest thing from his mind. Instead, his face went ghostly white as the ancient hinges began to rattle precariously with each increasingly hard blow delivered by the agitated zombies outside. Tiny plumes of dust exploded out of the doorjamb with every impact before swirling lazily in the otherwise still air. He held his breath for what felt like an eternity as he waited for the door to give way and the monsters to come pouring in with death on their heels. When it became apparent that the sturdy door might indeed hold up against the zombies’ barrage, Eric’s balls slowly dropped back out of his chest, one by one.

  Embarrassed by her clumsiness and afraid of her father’s disappointment, Lila stared at the ground as though the plastic ears of corn scattered about were suddenly the most interesting things she’d ever seen. When it seemed that they were safe for at least a while longer, Eric placed a comforting hand on her shoulder to let her know he wasn’t angry with her. A second later he tapped her excitedly, and she looked up to see a surprisingly optimistic smile on her father’s face. Leaning in closer, he whispered, “I think I might know how we can get out of here.”

  6

  Lila looked more than a little frightened when Eric laid out his plan. Sensing her anxiety, he said, “I know this is scary but I need you to trust me. We’ve made it this far and I promise I will continue to do everything in my power to keep you safe.” When her expression softened a moment later, he knew he could count on her. He gave her a reassuring hug before climbing the stairs of the lighthouse and peering out one of the upper floor windows onto the landing below. Three zombies scratched and clawed at the door, each one jockeying for position to be the first to get at the tender morsels locked inside. Their attention, if they possessed such a thing, was solely focused on getting through the door in front of them. By the time he returned to the first floor, he noticed that the intensity of their assault on the door was already waning in the absence of any further noise to keep them riled up. Even so, the effect that sound had on the zombies was clear, and he planned to use it to their advantage.

  Eric spoke softly, his voice little more than a faint whisper. “There are three of them right outside the door, but the opposite side of the building looks clear. We should be able to escape through that window after I remove the bars somehow. I think I can pry them loose, but it might be loud. That’s where I need your help.”

  He paused a moment to allow Lila to process the information. When she nodded her head in understanding, he continued. “Once I’m in position, I’ll give you a signal. I need you to make enough noise to keep the zombies’ attention on the door and to mask any noise that I make. You think you can do that?”

  Lila nodded without hesitation. Her face beamed with a steadfast resolve, showing no trace of fear. While he didn’t want her to be overly afraid, he knew that some degree of fear was warranted and would serve to keep her safe. Being too cavalier could be every bit as dangerous as being fainthearted. With a comforting smile and a squeeze on the shoulder, he added, “Good girl. Just don’t overdo it and cause them to break through the door.” Her confident face faltered somewhat, as though she hadn’t considered that a possibility until he’d mentioned it. With a final reassuring smile, he tried his best to allay her concerns before turning and heading off.

  When Eric reached
the window, he tested the bars by giving them a good tug. The bottom edge shifted slightly, as flecks of rust fell from around ancient screws. Nodding to Lila, he slid his stick behind the bars and went to work. With the window frame serving as a fulcrum, he leaned his weight against the stick. The metal bars groaned and popped as he jimmied them back and forth. As expected, the banging on the door intensified once again, and he glanced over to ensure that Lila was okay. Head resting on the door, she appeared remarkably calm. Her closed fist rhythmically tapped against the wood, and he thought he heard her speaking softly to the zombies trying so desperately to break in. The controlled, rhythmic nature of her sound was nearly buried beneath the frenetic, unmeasured retort of the zombies. He was relieved to see that his plan seemed to be working, as there was still no movement outside the window. He adjusted the stick before leaning into it once again.

  POP!

  Sounding like a shot fired from a small caliber pistol, the first screw sheared under the prying stick’s pressure. Without its support, the other screws pulled free with considerably less effort, allowing the lower edge to be delivered from the frame. Rocking the bars back and forth weakened the remaining screws until they eventually snapped under the strain. Eric lowered the bars to the ground and then set to work opening the grimy window.