Notes From the Internet Apocalypse: A Novel by Wayne Gladstone

Author:Wayne Gladstone [Gladstone, Wayne]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781250045027
Amazon: 1250045029
Publisher: Thomas Dunne Books
Published: 2014-03-04T06:00:00+00:00

8.

DAY 50. THE INTERNET MESSIAH

Sometimes you just do things without knowing why. When Jeeves dubbed me the Internet Messiah, I started running. Maybe it was because he had seemed so collected and self-possessed moments before and now was gasping for words and pointing at me in spasmodic fits. Maybe it was the hunger clawing out from the sunken eyes of the YouTube zombies. Or maybe it was the crippling attention of Central Park. But I ran as fast and as far as I could, and Tobey and Oz, either possessed by the same spirit or just trying to look after me, followed.

It wasn’t hard to outrun Jeeves. He started coughing and spitting after only a few steps, but from the bouncing blur of my peripheral vision, I could see inquisitive pedestrians take his place. They turned and pointed and joined the herd one by one. Oz kept pace with me, dressed more functionally today in a pair of jeans and Doc Martens. Tobey was hauling ass a few steps behind with a huge grin on his face.

“You think this is A Hard Day’s Night or something?” I called over my shoulder.

“I don’t know what that is.”

“I hate you, Tobey.”

We ran past the joggers and baby strollers. The Hacky Sackers and caricaturists. The lovers taking walks and married couples washing off dropped pacifiers with bottled water. But by the time we got to the dude selling Tweety Bird ice-cream pops out of his pushcart, the YouTube zombies had started closing in. Tobey reached down for a fallen branch without breaking stride and swung it around across a zombie’s face. Everything froze before the crack had even stopped reverberating through the park. Oz and I watched to see what would happen next, as did the chasers slowly circling.

The zombie, on all fours and bleeding from the mouth, made a horrible groan as he reached up and out. Tobey brought the remnants of the branch over his head and was about to swing again when I screamed out, “What are you doing?”

“What?” Tobey replied. “I gotta destroy the brain!”

“You realize that’s not a real zombie, right? It’s just an expression.”

“C’mon! Is this the Internet Apocalypse or what?” Tobey asked.

“He’s not the undead,” Oz explained. “It’s just an Internet-addicted human who—”

Unfortunately, she had to cut her explanation short because in the time it took to down one zombie, twenty more had crept in and their circle was almost completely around us.

“Run,” I said. “And don’t fucking stop.”

I sprinted as hard as I could through the one opening in the enclosing group and headed north. I could hear Oz and Tobey on my heels, but I didn’t look to check. After about five minutes at full speed, Tobey called out for a break, but I kept running. The Swedish Cottage was coming into view. I remembered the cottage from walks with Romaya. It was over 130 years old and, according to its sign out front, had served as a WWII civil defense headquarters, a tool house, a library, and now, a marionette theater.

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