“No, they will only follow,” Herder replied.
“What are you talking about?”
“Here, take this,” the young boy said, handing over his enchanted shovel. “Find the User-that-is-not-a-user and tell him what is happening here. He will know what to do. Warn the other villagers and have them prepare. We will need all the warriors we can find. Tell Gameknight to remember Crafter’s Great Uncle Weaver and ‘follow-the-leader.’ He will know what I mean.”
“But you can’t—”
Before the old man could finish his sentence, Herder shoved him backward into the abandoned mine, then sealed the tunnel with cobblestone. Reaching into his inventory, he pulled out an extra pick and a stone shovel and dropped them on the ground. He then pulled out his pickaxe and started to dig, just as Ma-Kul turned the corner.
“What is this idiotic villager doing here?” the monster demanded.
Herder could see Co-Zir standing behind the larger zombie, smiling a toothy grin.
“I’m … ahh … finding the edges of the lava lake,” Herder said, trying to sound confident; he did a poor job.
“The villager lies,” Ma-Kul said.
The violent zombie slapped Herder across the face, hard. It knocked the lanky boy to the ground, causing his head to spin as his vision blurred for just an instant. Pain echoed through his skull.
“Where is the other villager … the gray-haired one?” the zombie asked.
Herder pointed to the pick and shovel that floated on the ground.
“The lava got him,” Herder lied.
The zombie glared at the items, then grunted as if upset at the loss, not because he was sad, but because it was one less worker who would help expand the cave.
“Get up, idiot, and pick up those items. They are still useful,” Ma-Kul said.
He then turned to the smaller zombie.
“Good work finding these villagers,” the commander said. “Co-Zir will be promoted to En-Zir. Keep watch on them; they cannot be trusted.”
The newly-promoted zombie nodded his head.
“Take this skinny fool back with the others,” Ma-Kul ordered. “Villagers cannot be left alone. And punish this one for letting the gray-haired NPC fall into the lava. They are fools. They are all fools.”
En-Zir reached down and grabbed Herder’s arm, his claws digging into the young boy’s arm. He yanked him to his feet and shoved him next to the items on the ground. Herder bent over and picked up the shovel and pick, then turned and walked out of the tunnel. The two zombies followed right behind Herder, kicking him with their clawed feet if he moved too slowly. In the darkness, though, neither of the monsters saw the satisfied grin on the lanky boy’s face.
Hurry, Gameknight999, hurry, Herder thought. We need you now more than ever.
CHAPTER 27
EMPTY TOWNS
Gameknight leapt out of the portal and into the small stone room. He scanned the room for monsters, his gaze penetrating into every shadow. There were none. He moved to the foot of the stairs and waited for the other villagers. In seconds, the portal room in the zombie-town was filled with warriors.
Hunter and Stitcher moved to his side as more NPCs poured out from the sparkling green portal.
“Come on,” the User-that-is-not-a-user said.
Without waiting for a reply, he charged up the steps and into the zombie-town, his dual swords ready for slashing claws and snarling teeth. But like the last one and the one before that, the zombie-town was empty. The only creatures stirring in the massive cavern were the occasional bats that flittered about in the shadows, their high-pitched squeaks echoing off the rocky walls.
“Another empty zombie-town. What’s going on?” Gameknight grumbled. “Where have all the zombies gone?”
“Maybe they heard you were coming and they’re scared?” Hunter joked.
Gameknight flashed her an angry glare, then turned and moved into one of the tunnels that pierced the side of the cavern, a group of soldiers following. Crafter and Digger took a second group of warriors to another passage.
Standing before the dark opening, the User-that-is-not-a-user could hear only the echo of bats and the dripping of water. Nothing moaned or growled or shuffled clumsily across the stone floor. The passage was completely empty. Glancing at Crafter, he saw the same confusion on his face. The zombies were gone.
The army spread out across the cavern into all of the tunnels and alcoves, searching for any evidence that the creatures had ever been here. But it was as if the cavern had been scrubbed clean.
“There’s nothing here!” Digger shouted in frustration, his voice filling the silence like a clap of thunder.
“Everyone to the next portal!” Gameknight shouted.
He sprinted to the smaller portal chamber, which held just a single green portal. This lone gateway would lead to the next underground chamber on the zombie network. The rest of the army converged to the same point, their armored feet pounding across the uneven floor and filling the cavern with thunder. They gathered around the entrance to the small room and waited for instructions.
“What’s the plan?” Stitcher asked.
“We keep searching!” Gameknight snapped. “We must find them.”
“You’re right, but so far, all we’ve found are empty zombie-towns,” Crafter said as he approached his friend. “We can’t just keep blundering blindly from village to village.”
Gameknight sighed. Maybe Cobbler was right.
The image of Herder being grabbed by decaying green hands burst into his mind; the terrified expression on Herder’s face was etched deep into his soul. Hunter moved next to him and placed a reassuring hand on his arm.
“Don’t worry. We’ll find him,” she said in a soft voice.
“He was my responsibility,” Gameknight growled. “He’s been my responsibility ever since he joined the fight against the monsters of Minecraft.”
“I know,” she replied.
“I was supposed to watch out for him and keep him safe,” he said. “But look what I’ve done. He’s captured. Who knows what they are doing to him? What if …”
“NO!” Hunter snapped. “There are no what-if’s, there is only what you are going to do about it right now. If you go down the what-if path, then you will just give power to your anxiety and fear. Instead, we are going to do something to help him. You got that?”
He mumbled something unintelligible as he lowered his eyes to the ground. Hunter smacked him in the head with her bow. Gameknight’s diamond helmet rang like a bell for a moment as anger grew from within. He glared at her.
“That’s better,” Hunter said. “You need to get mad about all this and then figure out how to solve our problem. But giving up or panicking or blaming yourself will help no one, least of all, Herder.”
Gameknight growled, but this time it was not directed at Hunter, but at the zombies and Xa-Tul. That monster had taken his friend and he was going to get him back.
“Now, what are we going to do?” Hunter asked. “Answer quick or I’ll smack you in the head again.”
The User-that-is-not-a-user glanced at his friend and scowled, then turned and faced the rest of the army.
“We’re going to the next village. If it’s empty, then we return to Crafter’s village and examine some old maps. I figure they are in one of the ancient zombie-towns from the Great Zombie Invasion. Maybe they aren’t even on this portal network.”
“Now we’re talking!” Hunter said.
“Come on, everyone,” Crafter said. “Let’s get to the next town, fast!”
The villagers cheered, then ran down the steps and charged into the green portal that would take them to the next portal. The last one to take the stairs down to the small stone room was Cobbler. He had a downcast appearance and a permanently depressed expression on his square face.
“What’s wrong Cobbler?” Gameknight asked.
“I think maybe I should just go back to the village,” the young boy said. “I think I’ll just bring
bad luck with me.”
The User-that-is-not-a-user could understand how the NPC felt; he felt the same, but he couldn’t let Cobbler feel bad. It was in his nature to help where he could.
“Cobbler, Crafter has talked to you about this, and Stitcher, too. Now you’re going to hear it from me. You need to understand that good luck and bad luck are all the same,” Gameknight explained. “It just depends on how you interpret it. If you focus on the doom and gloom, that’s what you will find surrounding you. But if you search for the good in things around you, the positive will come through.”
“Really?” Cobbler mumbled. “What’s good about being here, right now?”
Gameknight glanced around at the empty zombie-town. He could hear the last of the villagers going through the portal and figured they were alone. But then Hunter, Stitcher, Digger, and Crafter came slowly up the steps and stood behind their friend. And then he knew exactly what to say.
“Let me ask you this, Cobbler. Did you ever think you would see the inside of a zombie-town?”
“Of course not,” the boy answered.
“Look how beautiful all the HP fountains are. They’re like a constant flow of fireworks coming out of the ground.”
Cobbler stared at the fountains and shrugged.
“See all the different colors in the floor and walls? They used every kind of block you could imagine to build their town. It’s like a parade of color out here.”
The young boy turned around and surveyed the village, this time a little longer than the fountain. He then faced Gameknight and shrugged again. Now, Hunter and Stitcher stepped forward and stood behind Cobbler. Gameknight smiled as he peered at the faces of his friends.
“And look around you,” the User-that-is-not-a-user continued. “You are surrounded by friends who will help you with anything you need. Stitcher can see the good in anything. Hunter can make you realize that you are braver than you ever realized. Digger can teach you what it means to be a leader and take care of others. And Crafter … well, Crafter can be the greatest friend you ever thought possible. And when you are with these NPCs, no matter what the circumstances are, you are always surrounded by good.”
He paused and took a step forward, then peered into the young boy’s eyes.
“If you search for the good, you will find it,” Gameknight999 said. “I just learned that a few minutes ago when Hunter smacked me in the head, and I will never let you forget it, because you are part of Crafter’s village now. That means you are family, so get used to it.”
Cobbler gazed up at him, and a tiny square tear tumbled down his cheek.
“Really?” he asked.
Gameknight nodded his head, and then, for the first time, Gameknight saw Cobbler smile. It was the kind that stretched from ear to ear and lit up his eyes.
“Now come on,” Gameknight said. “Let’s find our friends.”
CHAPTER 28
THE VEIL IS LIFTED
Gameknight was doing his best to stay positive and remain a good role model for Cobbler, but his frustration grew with every empty zombie-town they found. The army went through cave after cave, finding the same thing: nothing. No monsters or evidence of their enslaved friends were found. It was as if these zombie-towns had never housed a single monster ever before. But the User-that-is-not-a-user knew better. The one thing the monsters could not eliminate was the smell of decaying flesh. Every one of the abandoned caves still had a faint odor that made everyone’s stomach turn just a bit.
Finally, after the fourth zombie-town, Gameknight conceded.
“Let’s go back to Crafter’s village,” the User-that-is-not-a-user said. “This is getting us nowhere.”
The other villagers agreed, and followed their trail back to the first zombie-town. They reached the hidden entrance behind the waterfall in a few hours, then ran most of the way back to the nearby village. When they reached the crafting chamber, the NPCs used the minecart network to get back to Crafter’s village.
Once they were home, Crafter went to the library with Digger, pouring over old maps and books about the Great Zombie Invasion. Of course, the real knowledge lay in the libraries of the strongholds. But they were too far away to be of any use. Besides, the last time they had ventured to the stronghold, Gameknight999 and his friends had had to face the Swarm, a massive group of deadly silverfish. None of them really wanted to do that again, unless absolutely necessary. And by the time they reached one of those hidden underground structures, Xa-Tul would have likely completed his task, whatever that was, and their friends would be dead—or worse. No, they had to solve this problem here … and now.
Clustering around the village’s well, the NPCs debated what to do: ride out on horseback and search for them, go back to the zombie-towns, go to the stronghold … every idea was discussed until arguments ensued, but Gameknight stayed clear of the debates. He knew the solution did not lie in a book or out on the plains or in the empty zombie-towns; it would be found somewhere else.
Instead, he stood at the village’s gates and gazed out across the grasslands that surrounded the village. The newly-planted forest that lay just beyond them had shown a bit of growth, and the trees that had been treated to a healthy dose of bone meal stood tall, drinking in the waning light from the setting sun.
Pacing back and forth, Gameknight tried to imagine the solution to this problem, hoping the pieces of the puzzle would fall into place, but nothing materialized through the fog of uncertainty that clouded his mind. He had no idea how to save Herder and the other NPCs, and this uncertainty threatened to fill him with another emotion: fear.
Just then, a commotion broke out within the village. A voice rose up out of the collection of wooden buildings, yelling as loudly as possible.
“Come quick!” someone shouted. “Everyone come to the watchtower!”
Gameknight sprinted for the tower, his nerves stretched to their limits. When he reached the tall cobblestone structure, he saw it surrounded by the villagers. Pushing his way through, he wormed his way to the center of the crowd. Seated on the ground was an NPC who appeared completely exhausted. He was leaning against the side of the watchtower, his head tipped to one side. Crafter knelt at his side, quietly speaking to him. The exhausted villager wore a dirty white smock with a tattered gray stripe running down the middle, his hair matching the stripe’s color. His face was pale and his breathing strained. Gameknight could tell he was near death.
“Bookman, what happened?” Crafter asked.
It’s Bookman! The thought burst into Gameknight’s head like one of Crafter’s fireworks. He was one of the villagers who had been captured with Herder. The User-that-is-not-a-user peered down at the NPC to see if he had any zombie wounds. His arms were scratched as if cut by a thousand knives. The palms of his hands were almost raw, with blisters and cuts from probably some kind of terrible torture. But most of all, the villager was completely exhausted, his HP dangerously low. It was possible that he would not survive.
Someone handed the aged NPC a piece of steak. He eagerly devoured the meat, which helped his hunger a little, but his HP was still nearly gone; food might not be enough to save him. A piece of melon was handed to Bookman, who took it and tore into it as if it were his last meal.
If only we had a Notch apple, Gameknight thought.
“Get out of the way,” said a scratchy voice from the back of the crowd. “Give me room or I’ll hit you with a potion of blindness and just push you out of the way. Now MOVE!”
The villagers quickly parted, letting an old woman with a purple smock step through, the green stripe on the front of her smock decorated with multiple stains and spills. It was Morgana, the village’s witch. As she neared, Morgana pulled out a splash potion of healing and threw it onto the exhausted NPC. The bottle instantly shattered, throwing liquid across Bookman’s body. Bright red sparkles floated over him for just an instant, but then he sat up a little straighter. His pale skin began to fill with a rosy hue as his breathing eased and became more regular
. Looking up at the villagers that surrounded him, a smile slowly spread across his wrinkled face. He reached out and gladly accepted a loaf of bread from another villager.
“Where’s the User-that-is-not-a-user?” the old NPC said between bites.
“Here,” Gameknight said as he moved forward and stared down at him. “What happened? Where is everyone? Is Herder still …”
He couldn’t finish the question.
“Yes, Herder is alive and well,” Bookman answered between bites.
A wave of relief washed over Gameknight like a cleansing tidal wave. His neck muscles relaxed and the knots in his back suddenly disappeared. He hadn’t realized how tense he’d been until that moment. He felt like he could finally breathe again.
A solemn expression came across Bookman’s face. “At least he was when he helped me escape,” the old NPC said. “Herder sacrificed himself so that I could get away. He stayed behind, and drew the zombies off my trail. Without his bravery, I’m sure the zombies would have caught me.”
Gameknight’s heart skipped a beat. “Do you think he’s …”
Bookman shrugged, not letting the User-that-is-not-a-user finish the question. “I don’t know.”
“Tell us, do you know where they are?” Crafter asked.
Bookman nodded his square head as he finished the bread, then started on a huge red apple.
“Are there a lot of zombies with them?” Hunter said as she pushed through the crowd.
The old NPC stopped eating and looked up at the redhead, then glanced at Gameknight999, terror showing in his eyes.
“What is it?” Crafter demanded.
He kept his gaze fixed on the User-that-is-not-a-user, then spoke, his voice cracking fear.
“There are hundreds of zombies there,” Bookman said. “No, not hundreds … thousands and thousands. More than you could ever count. They’re everywhere, crowded into a single zombie-town, with more coming every minute.”
“What are they doing?” Gameknight questioned. “Are they getting ready for war?”
The old librarian shook his head, the color in his face now fading a bit. Gameknight could see the villager’s eyes filling with dread.
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