The Great Zombie Invasion

by Mark Cheverton

  Herobrine paced back and forth as his eyes grew bright with rage. This villager with the small nose was becoming something of an annoyance. He would need to be dealt with eventually, but first, the blacksmith.

  “Should the zombies go out and stop the villagers from following?” one of the recently promoted zombie commanders asked.

  “What is your name again?” Herobrine asked.

  “Ta-Vor, Maker,” the zombie responded.

  “Ta-Vor, we will not stop the villagers from following the blazes,” the vile shadow-crafter said. “In fact, I want them to follow. We will attack them at our convenience, when the setting is right. But for now, we need to collect more creepers. It seems all were lost in that last battle, even though it was a successful experiment.”

  “Experiment?” Ta-Vor asked.

  “Yes, I wanted to see if my new monsters could ignite the creepers without getting blown up themselves.” He turned and smiled a devilish grin at the single creature of smoke and flame. “I call these creatures blazes, and they will be a key element to the destruction of that blacksmith and his village.”

  Herobrine laughed a maniacal laugh, then glared up at the zombie commander.

  “But before we attack again, we must rebuild our ranks. I have an army gathering far to the north. The zombie king is there now, overseeing everything. Once we collect all our brothers and sisters here and have joined with those in the Great Northern Desert, then we will teach that blacksmith a lesson.”

  “The Maker will destroy the villagers that are pursuing the … blazes?” Ta-Vor asked.

  “Not yet, you fool,” Herobrine snapped. “They must be made to suffer. We will harass them and destroy some and then leave the rest to their grief as they mourn those that we destroy. Then we will hit them again and again so that their suffering continues. The final trap will be sprung in the Great Northern Desert, where the rest of our army awaits. In the end, that pathetic blacksmith will beg for mercy at my feet—though he will receive none. I will have the last laugh when I force that fool to watch me as I slay every last NPC from his village, and then I will destroy him.”

  “It is a good plan,” Ta-Vor moaned.

  Herobrine rolled his eyes.

  “You know nothing about it, fool,” the Maker growled. “Now gather all the monsters and proceed northward. We will let the villagers think they have escaped our detection for now, but soon, we will remind them why they fear the night.”

  The zombie stared at Herobrine, confused. He could tell the witless monster did not fully understand the artistic side to punishing the NPCs. It had to be done just right, to maximize their suffering. None of these monsters had any clue as to the subtle touch needed to really make villagers wallow in despair, wishing they had never been born. He laughed again as his eyes glowed bright white, then teleported northward and waited for the army to catch up to him. Glancing to the east, he could see the sun’s square face sitting high in the sky, casting its warm yellow light down upon the Overworld. It made the greens and browns and yellows and reds of the world shine bright with color; it made him sick.

  The zombies and skeleton stared nervously toward the sun as they began to walk to the north, moving out from beneath the shadow of an oak tree. The idiotic monsters still marveled at the fact they no longer burned under direct sunlight. That fact alone bonded the creatures to Herobrine, making them devoted servants, and cannon fodder, if necessary.

  Herobrine laughed.

  “Hurry up you fools!” he shouted as his eyes flashed bright with impatience.

  He then glared off to the south, in the direction of that pathetic village and its stone walls.

  “We’ll see how much help your walls are when you are no longer behind them,” Herobrine cackled. “Come to me my little pets, come to me and suffer.”

  He chuckled with evil glee then teleported a little farther to the north.

  CHAPTER 17

  SAVANNAH

  The trail of burnt grass led straight through the forest, and it was easy to follow, even at night. It was almost as if the monsters wanted the villagers to follow them … and that worried Gameknight999.

  “The idiotic monsters are leading us straight to Herobrine and his army,” laughed one of the villagers.

  Some of the other NPCs added their own comments, mocking the seemingly foolish creatures.

  “You think they’re letting us follow them on purpose, don’t you?” Weaver asked at his side.

  Gameknight looked down at him and gave him a strained grin.

  “I’ve found it’s never a good idea to follow a hornet back to its nest,” the User-that-is-not-a-user said.

  “A hornet?” Weaver asked.

  “Ahh … never mind,” Gameknight said. “I’m not sure if we are following them back to the monster army or if they are leading us there. One thing I do know: we shouldn’t underestimate Herobrine.”

  “There he goes again,” mocked Fencer, “thinking there’s some kind of devious plot in everything. Just like the First-User.”

  Some of the villagers laughed, then threw some comments about his small nose into the mix. Weaver was about to yell at the bullies, but Gameknight put a calm hand on his shoulder, silencing the retort.

  Suddenly, Wilbur began to oink, an angry tone to his squeals.

  “What’s wrong, boy?” Gameknight asked his pink companion.

  The pig peered up at him, then held his stubby nose high into the air and sniffed. A scowl formed on his square face as if the smell was something terrible. The User-that-is-not-a-user paused for a moment as well, then drew a large breath in through his nose.

  There it was, the faint aroma of something rotten and decaying, like someone had left some meat out too long in the sun.

  “Zombies,” Gameknight whispered as he drew his sword.

  Weaver’s eyes darted around cautiously as he drew his own stone weapon.

  “What’s wrong, First-User, something got you spooked?” Fencer mocked.

  Gameknight held his hand up, halting those behind them. The sound of creaking bows reached his ears as villagers notched arrows to strings and drew them back, ready.

  “What is it?” a deep voice said.

  Gameknight turned and found Smithy standing next to him.

  “Wilbur smelled zombies, and now I can smell them as well.”

  Smithy sniffed, the shrugged. “I don’t smell anything,” the blacksmith said.

  “They were here,” Gameknight murmured. “And it was recently.”

  “Come on, we need to keep moving,” Smithy said. “The NPCs from the other villages will be meeting us in the clearing up ahead.”

  The blacksmith patted Gameknight on the back and strode up the hill, the rest of the army following. Glancing down at Weaver, he gave him a wink, then trudged up the hill, his eyes scanning left and right, looking for threats. When they crested the hill and walked down into the shallow basin, the smell of the zombies hit them all like a stinking sledgehammer to the nose. Reaching up, the User-that-is-not-a-user pinched his nose as he walked forward. He wasn’t sure if it made any difference or not, but right now, he was pretty happy with his small nose.

  To the left, he could see a crater in the ground where something had exploded, taking out the base of an oak tree. Moving to the scar on the edge of the grassy clearing, Gameknight moved down into the jagged depression and found a small pile of gunpowder floating just off the ground.

  “Creeper,” he muttered. “They were here!”

  “You think?” Fencer said as he tried to squeeze shut his bulbous nose to block out the terrible stench.

  Gameknight could see the scorched trail of blazes moving straight through the clearing, then heading due north. It appeared like a black smudge on the surface of Minecraft, and the telltale charred grass and burnt trees made their path easy to see.

  “There’s something wrong about this,” the User-that-is-not-a-user mumbled to himself.

  “What?” Weaver asked at his side.

>   The boy always seemed to be right at his side, and Gameknight didn’t mind it. He reminded him of his friend Herder in the future Minecraft. There was an innocence about the young boy but also a strength of character that he saw in few of the other villagers, with the exception of Smithy. Gameknight had no doubt that Weaver would do whatever was necessary to help anyone in the village, even the people he didn’t like. Weaver, like his friend Herder, was a rare individual, and it was a mistake to judge his value by his size.

  “Did you say something?” Weaver said.

  “Umm … no, just thinking out loud,” Gameknight replied.

  Chuckles drifted across the clearing. The User-that-is-not-a-user turned and found a group of warriors looking in his direction, mocking grins on their square faces.

  Suddenly, the sharp sound of a stick breaking filled the air. Gameknight spun around, his iron sword ready for battle. Weaver moved up next to him and peered into the shadowy forest. The sun was high in the air, but the thick green canopy cast a dark shadow that was difficult for their eyes to penetrate.

  He caught a glimpse of movement off to the right. As he turned, Gameknight relaxed when he saw it was just a villager with a bow in his hands. The arrow was drawn back and ready to fire, a cautious look on the NPC’s face. When he saw Gameknight, the warrior relaxed and lowered his weapon. Glancing over his shoulder, he smiled and motioned for others behind him to approach. From behind the trunks of oaks and birches moved a large band of NPCs, each wearing leather armor and carrying weapons at the ready; newcomers to their army.

  “Welcome,” Smithy said as he moved to greet them.

  The NPCs walked into the clearing.

  “Now this is what I call an army,” Fencer said.

  They clasped hands with each other, greeting their brethren.

  “There’s no time for delay,” Gameknight said. “We must follow the monsters, but we need to be cautious. Herobrine could be leading us into a trap.”

  “Again with the gloom and doom,” Fencer said. He turned and spoke directly to Smithy. “What are we doing?”

  “I think Gameknight is right,” the blacksmith said. “We don’t have time to rest right now. We need to follow the monsters and figure out where they are going. There are more villages to the north. We’ll collect additional troops while we follow the monsters.”

  “Soon we will outnumber them, and then we’ll crush them,” one of the woodcutters said.

  “The problem is … Herobrine will be doing the same thing,” Gameknight said. “He’ll be gathering monsters just like we’re gathering villagers. Without knowing where he is or what he is doing, we’re at a disadvantage. We must be careful.”

  “You’re a lot of fun,” Fencer growled.

  Gameknight was about to reply when Smithy’s confident voice filled the clearing.

  “Let’s go, quick and quiet. We’re gonna find us some monsters.”

  He took off running, with Fencer and Gameknight following close behind.

  They ran for an hour until the army reached the edge of the forest biome, a savannah landscape spreading out before them. The blackened trail cut into the terrain and continued to the north. Ahead, they could see the charred remains of a few acacias; likely a blaze had moved too close to the bent and twisted trees and lit them on fire. It reminded Gameknight999 of the massive forest fires that had ravaged the Overworld in his time. Hopefully those events would not unfold here.

  Smithy continued to lead them to the north on the dark path. Members of the army moved to some of the acacia trees and cut down their curved trunks; the wood would likely become useful in the future. As saplings fell to the ground, they were instantly picked up and replanted, replacing the trees that had been destroyed.

  Gameknight glanced to the west and could see the sun slowly approaching the horizon.

  “Smithy, we should find a place to camp for the night,” the User-that-is-not-a-user said. “We need to find someplace that’s defendable, just in case.”

  “Maybe you’re right,” the stocky NPC replied.

  “We should just continue,” Fencer disagreed. “We’re getting closer to the monsters … I can just feel it. I’m looking forward to destroying them and going back home to my comfortable bed.”

  “Perhaps Fencer has a point,” Smithy said. “Let’s keep going and get this over with.”

  They continued as the landscape grew darker. Off to the right, the slanted roofs of a savannah village were just barely visible, with only a few torches lighting the wooden structures. Smithy sent a small group of warriors there to enlist their aid in the mission.

  “Look, the trail goes between those two peaks,” one of the villagers said. “Maybe they are making camp for the night?”

  “Perhaps,” Smithy added. “Come on everyone, we could catch them unawares.”

  The warriors began to run along the flat ground that wove its way between two steep hills. Ahead, they came to a river that gushed out of the side of one hill and wove its way down toward the village. Another line of hills ran along the bank, similarly unscalable. This area struck Gameknight less like a place monsters might camp and more like a place to avoid completely.

  Suddenly, Wilber began to squeal a high-pitched screech as if he were in pain.

  “What’s wrong, boy?” Gameknight said to his companion.

  “What’s up with your stupid pet?” one of the villagers asked. By the look of his clothing, Gameknight could tell he was the village butcher. He didn’t like the way he was staring down at Wilbur.

  The User-that-is-not-a-user knelt next to the creature and laid a calming hand on the animal’s pink back. The pig spun around in a circle, then faced back the way they came and stared at the pass they’d just traversed.

  “I don’t know,” Gameknight answered. “Maybe—”

  Wilbur let out a loud scream, then raised his nose high in the air and sniffed, a look of disgust on the animal’s face. Gameknight turned and stared in the direction the pig was facing. A lone individual stepped into the fading sunlight, his eyes glowing bright.

  “So blacksmith … we meet again,” a voice cackled.

  Tiny square goose bumps formed on Gameknight’s arms. He instantly recognized the voice—Herobrine.

  “I see you have been collecting villagers as you followed me,” Herobrine said. “Well, I have been doing something similar.”

  Just then, a massive horde of monsters stepped out from behind the steep mountains and filled the pass, blocking any exit. Gameknight looked at the river and knew they could jump in and try to swim away, but the current was too slow and the skeletons’ arrows would likely find many NPCs before they were far enough away. They were trapped and even though they were still outnumbered, they had only one option—they had to fight.

  CHAPTER 18

  TRAPPED

  “ATTACK!” Herobrine screamed.

  As one, the huge group of monsters surged forward.

  “Quickly, place down blocks of wood or dirt or stone to build a barricade!” Gameknight yelled.

  He ran across the front of the villagers’ formation, placing blocks of cobblestone as he went. Arrows from the skeletons whizzed past but always just went behind where he was; the monsters didn’t understand how to aim ahead of their target. But sadly, those arrows found NPCs that were standing still. Screams of pain sounded from the villagers.

  Once he’d placed his line of blocks, he reversed direction and placed another block on top, this time skipping a space between adjacent blocks so villagers could fire at the oncoming army but still hide behind a cube of stone.

  “Archers, shoot at the skeletons,” Gameknight cried.

  “Right … archers, form up and open fire!” Smithy screamed. “Swordsmen to the front and get ready for the zombies.”

  Gradually, Smithy took control of the battle, positioning his soldiers so as to repel the mob’s charge. Gameknight finished placing his blocks of stone, then ran to the side of the battlefield and grabbed Weaver.


  “Start building an archer tower right here,” Gameknight said. “Stairs should go up this acacia tree. Build a platform on top of the leaves. Get the other kids to help. When you’re done, tell Smithy to send the archers up here. They’ll be safe from the zombies’ claws.”

  He didn’t wait for Weaver to reply. Instead, he turned and grabbed three villagers and had them follow him to the other side of the battlefield. After quick instructions, the three NPCs began building the same thing atop another tree.

  Drawing his bow, Gameknight searched for Herobrine on the field of battle. There were so many monsters in the narrow pass it was difficult to see, but then a pair of eyes flashed bright at the top of one of the steep hills. Herobrine was watching the battle from far out of range, letting his monsters fight and die rather than getting personally involved … typical for the evil villain.

  Turning his attention to the monster before him, he fired three quick shots at a skeleton. The arrows tore into the bony creature, quickly taking its HP and making it disappear with a pop. He then shifted to another skeleton, then another and another. Slowly, Gameknight began silencing enemy bows, but the monsters were still doing great damage.

  And then, out of nowhere, the skeletons stopped firing and moved to the back of the field of battle. The zombies had now reached the barricade. The decaying wall of green flesh made it impossible for the skeletons to continue to fire without hitting the zombies as well.

  “Swordsmen … attack!” Smithy yelled.

  Gameknight put away his bow and drew his iron sword. He knew there were too many zombies for their forces to handle. Herobrine must have collected a hundred of the putrid creatures, and without better armor and weapons, he wasn’t sure they could hold them back.

  As he ran forward, the User-that-is-not-a-user watched as the archers pulled back from the battle line and ran to the newly completed raised platforms. The skeletons, seeing available targets, began firing upon the NPCs on the towers, the villagers firing right back. The battle had degraded from a well-choreographed series of moves and counter-moves to hand-to-hand fighting, monsters versus villagers in a life and death struggle. But as they battled at the front line, some of the zombies began to move around the villagers’ flanks in hopes of getting behind them. If that happened, it would quickly be over.