The Skeleton Horse

by Maya Grace

  “C’mon!” cried Rowan, waving her on.

  The next house seemed empty, but flames crept up the front door and across the rooftop. “No zombies,” said Rowan. “But no villagers either. Let’s go.”

  She was already racing away from the window, toward the next house. But something caught Ella’s eye through the glass. She pressed her face closer, peering into the darkness.

  There it was! Someone was pacing in the hallway beyond the living room. Someone wearing a white robe.

  Zombies don’t wear white robes, she told herself. Someone’s in there. Someone who needs my help!

  She banged on the window to warn the villager of the fire spreading across the house. But the figure kept pacing, as if in a trance. So Ella did the only thing she could do—she reached for her trident and swung it against the window.

  As glass shattered with a horrific crash, Taiga barked, setting off a chorus of barks and whines from the wolves that wanted to help, too.

  “Stay here!” Ella told them. “You’ll scare the villager. I’ll be right back.”

  But as she crawled through the open window, she felt a niggle of doubt. What am I getting myself into? she wondered as she tumbled headfirst into the dark living room.

  As she crawled to her knees, she called out to the villager. “It’s okay. I’m here to help! Your house is on fire. You have to get out!”

  The figure in the hall didn’t turn, but now Ella recognized the white robes of a librarian and the long dark hair of a woman. Could she not hear Ella calling to her?

  Ella called out again as she crossed the room toward the librarian. Still, the woman didn’t turn—until Ella was directly beside her.

  Ella saw now that the woman’s robes were dirty and tattered.

  She heard her groan, and smelled the stink of her breath.

  As the woman staggered around in a slow circle, Ella saw the putrid green flesh of . . .

  . . . a zombie.

  CHAPTER 11

  Taiga was beside Ella in a flash, waiting for her command. He crouched, teeth bared, placing his body between Ella and the zombie.

  As the zombie groaned and took a step forward, Ella reached for her sword.

  “Don’t hurt her!” A boy’s voice rang out from a room down the hall.

  But the words tumbled around Ella’s mind like cobblestones. What does he mean? Don’t hurt the zombie? But I have to fight!

  Then she saw the boy poke his head through the doorway. He was about her age, with sandy-colored hair and flashing eyes. “Don’t hurt her!” he cried again, sounding fierce. “She’s my mother!”

  Ella’s chest seized—she suddenly couldn’t breathe. And she couldn’t fight the mob in front of her, not if this boy believed it was his mother. Could it be? wondered Ella, staring at the undead mob. Is it possible?

  The zombie staggered toward her, arms outstretched. If Ella couldn’t fight, she had to run.

  When she heard a thud in the room behind her, she whirled around—grateful to see Gran in the living room, with Jack close behind. As soon as Gran saw the zombie, she drew her sword.

  Jack grabbed her arm. “It’s not a zombie,” he cried. “It’s a zombie villager!”

  Gran hesitated. “That’s not possible.”

  But now Ella knew the truth. “Jack’s right,” she said quickly. “There’s a boy in the house who says it’s his mother. What do we do, Gran?” Beside her, Taiga let out a confused whine of his own.

  “I can save her,” Jack insisted. “I have the golden apples, remember? And splash potion of weakness.” He dropped to his knees and unzipped his pack.

  But a smoky haze filled the room, and Ella heard crackling from the rooftop above. “Not now, Jack. Not here—the fire is spreading!”

  Gran coughed as she glanced upward. “Ella’s right. We have to get out. Now, Jack!” She reached for his hand, but Jack wouldn’t budge.

  “What about her?” He pointed toward the zombie villager, who had begun to pace again, bumping against the walls of the tiny hallway that Taiga guarded.

  And what about her son? wondered Ella. He had gone back into his bedroom, but he wouldn’t be safe there—not for long.

  Ella stared as a swirl of smoke in the ceiling grew bigger and blacker. Flames began to lick the edges. There was no time to think or to make a plan. There was only time to act.

  “Taiga, help me get her out of here,” she said, pointing toward the librarian. “Help me get her and her son out of the house. But don’t hurt them!”

  Taiga cocked his head and whined.

  “I know you don’t understand. Just do it, buddy. Just help me. Please!”

  So he did. Taiga stepped toward the zombie villager, growling—just enough to get her attention. Then he darted toward her foot, pulling it out from under her until she fell to the floor with a grunt.

  As Taiga dragged her across the kitchen, she growled and thrashed. But two more wolves had leaped through the living room window. Together, they pulled her toward the back door.

  Ella sprinted down the hall to the bedroom. As she threw open the door, the boy flew off his bed and grabbed a sword from a bedside table.

  “It’s okay!” cried Ella. “We’re going to help you—and your mother, too. But you have to come with me!”

  He narrowed his eyes, as if she were the enemy. How long had he been in here, fighting for his life? She had to earn his trust. But there was no time!

  “I’m Ella,” she said, holding her voice steady. “What’s your name?”

  He licked his lips. “Sam.”

  “Okay, Sam. Your house is on fire. We got your mom out, but now we have to get out, too. Right now.”

  Finally he lowered his sword and crossed the floor toward her. As she led him down the hall, past the living room, Ella held her breath. Flames flickered everywhere, as if they had just stepped into the Nether.

  Her lungs burned as she raced toward the back door. She turned only once to make sure the boy was still with her. Then she followed her family and her wolves into the dark village—just as the house behind her burst into flames.

  * * *

  “Is it working?” Sam took a step toward his mother.

  Ella quickly pulled him back. “Not yet,” she said. “We have to wait.” But how much longer? she wondered.

  They were safe in the library now, where torches burned brightly, but Rowan was still out there in the dead of night. Ella’s wolves were out there, too. And in the darkness, she knew mobs would soon be spawning.

  Jack had used his splash potion of weakness on the zombie villager, which he insisted would help her heal. A trickle of purple liquid ran down her white robe. Now it was time for her to eat the golden apple. But how do you force a zombie to eat an apple?

  “What’s your mother’s name?” Gran asked Sam.

  “Amanda Martin,” he said softly. He watched his mother’s face, as if hoping she would respond.

  Gran took the golden apple from Jack and offered it to the librarian. “Mrs. Martin, I have something for you,” said Gran. “Will you take a bite?”

  The librarian growled, her eyes flashing like a wild animal, scared for its life.

  “We’re trying to help you!” cried Jack, sitting back on his heels.

  Gran shushed him with a pat on the shoulder. “Sam, do you want to try?” She offered him the apple. “Your mother might take it from you.”

  He nodded and reached for the apple. “P-please eat it, Mom,” he said, his voice shaky. “It’ll help you.”

  Sam held out the apple halfway, like a peace offering. His mother watched him with dark, hollow eyes. She sniffed the air. Then slowly, cautiously, she reached for the apple—and took a bite.

  “Yes!” whispered Jack. “You did it!” He slapped Sam on the back as if they were buddies now.

  But Sam’s mother started to hiss. She shuddered, pushing herself up on shaky legs, and staggered toward the door.

  “Don’t let her leave!” said Gran, jumping to her feet
.

  When Sam held out his hand to stop his mother, she forged a new path. She toppled over a shelf and stepped through the books that had spilled to the floor.

  “We can’t stop her!” cried Ella. “She’s too strong!” It was as if the woman had drunk a potion of strength. Instead of opening the door, she broke through it with a single blow.

  She started down the stairs, still shaking and shuddering. And then suddenly, she stopped. She dropped downward into a sitting position and fell silent.

  “What’s happening?” Ella whispered to Gran.

  Jack answered. “It’s working,” he said. “My cure is working!”

  Mrs. Martin swiveled her head, as if she had heard him. As she gazed past Jack at her son, her eyes softened. The hollow, gaping stare was gone.

  Her face spread into a sad smile, and a single tear ran down her cheek.

  She opened her mouth as if to speak, but nothing came out. So she licked her lips and tried again. This time, the word was barely audible, but it filled Ella’s heart with hope.

  Sam.

  * * *

  “How did you save me?” Mrs. Martin asked Gran again. “How did you know the cure?”

  After a second golden apple, the color had returned to her cheeks. Ella searched the woman’s face, but saw no remnants of the hostile mob that had stood in the library just a short while before—except for the tattered robe, which she pulled tightly around her shoulders.

  Sam was beside her now, too, hanging on to her arm as if he’d never let her go.

  Gran smiled. “I didn’t know the cure,” she said. “Jack did.” She gestured toward Jack, who beamed with pride.

  “My mom taught me,” he said. “It’s in her journal. I’ll show you.” As he pulled the book from his backpack, chunks of brown mushroom spilled out with it. “Oh, sorry.” He wiped the journal clean, then flipped through the pages. “Here. See?”

  As Mrs. Martin took the journal from his hands, her eyes widened. She studied the page and then flipped through a few others. “Where is your mother?” she asked.

  When Jack’s face fell, Gran answered for him. She quickly explained that Jack’s mother, a scientist, had died during the last Uprising.

  Ella glanced at Mrs. Martin, expecting to see sadness. What she saw instead was wonder. Mrs. Martin’s jaw had dropped wide open.

  “I knew your mother!” she said to Jack. “We were working together, trying to find a way to reset the day-night cycle.”

  Jack’s head jerked upright. “Really? How?”

  Ella leaned forward, too, listening.

  Mrs. Martin shook her head. “We never found a way. Your mother had started to build something—a command block—but then . . . she didn’t finish in time.”

  Gran nodded. “We still have that command block,” she said.

  Ella remembered, too—the strange block in the hidden room under the staircase! “Could we get it to work?” she asked Mrs. Martin. “Do you know how?”

  The librarian hesitated. “I can help, but Jack’s mother knew more about command blocks.”

  No wonder he’s so proud of her, thought Ella, turning back toward Jack. But what was he doing? His head was stuck in his backpack. When he popped it back out, he looked discouraged. Then he lifted the pack and dumped the contents onto the rug.

  Potion bottles tumbled out, along with more mushroom crumbs and a pile of golden apples. Then a book fell on top. The stolen book!

  Ella sucked in her breath. Would Gran be angry?

  Jack picked up the book as if it were a great treasure, like the golden Totem of Undying that Ella had tucked safely in her own pack. He showed off the title so that everyone could see:

  Building Command Blocks: Start to Finish

  Then Jack flipped open the cover. “It was Mom’s, see?” he said, pointing toward the loopy signature. “She started building the command block. And I’m going to finish it!”

  Silence fell over the room along with something else—hope? Can he do it? Ella wondered.

  Sam pumped his fist, as if he believed Jack could. Jack had just saved his mother, after all.

  Gran tilted her head thoughtfully.

  And Mrs. Martin leaped to her feet. “You found it!” she cried. “Your mother said the book had disappeared. Oh, Jack—bravo!”

  Everyone started talking at once, so loudly that Ella couldn’t think.

  “We have to go home and get the block!” cried Jack.

  “I’ll come,” said Mrs. Martin. “Sam and I will come with.”

  “We need more horses,” said Gran, who was now pacing the room.

  “We need to find Rowan!” cried Ella. Had they all forgotten about Rowan?

  As if right on cue, the door to the library burst open. Lucky the ocelot sprang inside, as if running from something. And then Rowan appeared. Her face was smudged with black ash, and her red ponytail hung askew.

  “Zombie siege,” Rowan whispered, her green eyes wild with fear. “They’re back!”

  CHAPTER 12

  Don’t mistake a zombie villager for a zombie, Gran had warned. If you attack one, your wolves will, too.

  Ella didn’t need to be told twice. She had already come face to face with a zombie villager. If she saw one again, she’d know. But would Taiga?

  The wolf was at her feet as she crept into the darkness behind Rowan. Dozens of glowing eyes told her that her army of wolves was here, too, ready to fight.

  When a horse whinnied, Ella froze. Gran and Jack were out here somewhere on horseback. “Are they okay?” she cried, searching the shadows.

  Rowan raised a finger to silence her. “They’re okay,” she whispered. “Gran’s a warrior, and Jack’s potions are deadly. Don’t you know that by now?”

  Ella nodded and swallowed the lump in her throat. Gran and Jack were okay. They had to be. But as the grunts and groans of the zombies grew louder, she wondered, Will we survive this, too?

  As they rounded a cobblestone wall, Ella saw them—masses of writhing green mobs, staggering down the street and through what was left of the houses.

  Bam, bam, bam! A zombie banged against a door with his head. Ella could almost feel the ground vibrate.

  “Ready to fight?” asked Rowan.

  No! thought Ella. But if she waited a moment longer, the zombie might break that door down. His army of zombies would follow him in. And if any villagers were still in the home, they would never survive.

  “Ready,” said Ella, her voice cracking.

  That was all Rowan needed to hear. She charged, letting loose a ferocious battle cry.

  Taiga raced after her, then turned toward Ella whining, as if to say, Please don’t make me wait! Let’s go!

  So Ella ran. She pulled the trident from her side and reared her arm back, launching the weapon toward the nearest zombie. Thud! It struck its mark—the zombie dropped.

  As soon as the trident left her hand, Taiga snarled and attacked another green mob. And another. Then a sea of silver fur swept through the village—dozens of wolves taking their cue from Taiga, and from Ella.

  The wolves tackled the undead mobs, knocking them down to the ground. They tore the zombies away from doorsteps and windowsills. As a horrifying chorus of grunts and groans filled the air, Ella longed to cover her ears. But she had to keep fighting.

  When her trident returned to her hand, she spun in a circle, searching. “Taiga!” she cried. Was he okay?

  The wolf sprang to her side. “Good boy,” said Ella. “Stay close now.”

  They raced side by side through the village, dodging dead mobs and heaps of rotten flesh. When more zombies spawned behind the blacksmith shop, Ella was ready. She threw her trident again, and wolves came in droves to finish the job.

  By the time she reached the edge of town, Ella’s arms and legs felt heavy as obsidian. Then she saw Rowan. Her cousin sat on the edge of the well, her legs dangling off the side.

  “What are you doing?” Ella cried. “Why aren’t you fighting?”

>   Rowan smiled. “I was,” she said. “But we did it. Your wolves did, I mean. Look.”

  Only then did Ella turn to see the path she’d left behind. Wolves speckled the lawns, the street, the courtyard, and the market area. They were licking their wounds and lying down to rest beside steaming piles of rotten flesh and other zombie drops. But there weren’t any zombies left standing—not a single one.

  Ella heaved an enormous sigh. “We did it,” she said, resting her head on her cousin’s shoulder. “We did it.”

  * * *

  “Lucky saved us!”

  As soon as Ella and her cousins were back inside the library, Jack launched into a story. “You should have seen it. Gran heard the hiss of the creeper, and then our horse got all scared and bucked sideways.”

  Sam leaned closer. “Yeah, and then what?”

  Jack spoke slowly, dragging out the story now that he had a captive audience. “I reached for a splash potion. But before I could even get the cork out, Lucky came from out of nowhere.”

  He paused.

  “Like from where?” asked Sam. “Out of a tree?”

  Jack’s eyes widened. “I don’t know—maybe. She just showed up, because she knew I was in danger. She chased the creeper away, quick as that.” He snapped his fingers. “She saved the day!” He reached out to stroke his cat, who was fast asleep now, curled up in a circle with her head tucked under a paw.

  “Cool,” said Sam, eyeing up Lucky as if he wished he had a cat of his own.

  Rowan rolled her eyes. “Ella’s wolves saved the day,” she argued. “Your cat chased one creeper, Jack. Ella’s wolves killed at least a hundred zombies.”

  Ella felt heat rise in her cheeks. Rowan sounded proud of her, which was a whole lot better than being jealous. But when Jack’s face fell, Ella spoke quickly. “Both of our animals saved the day, Jack. Lucky was definitely your good luck charm.”

  He shrugged, but he smiled.

  Then Ella remembered. “Hey, did you use your potion of luck yet?”

  He shook his head. “I’m saving it,” he said, “for when we need it most. Like maybe when we try to fix the command block.” He glanced at Mrs. Martin, who was flipping through the book on command blocks.