Baby Zeke: The Diary of a Chicken Jockey: The Complete Minecraft Series, Books 1-9: An Unofficial Minecraft Book

by Dr. Block

  They silently looked at me. I could tell they all wanted to stay together too, but I could see hesitation in their eyes.

  I continued. “Look, I know that we would probably be safer from Herobrine if we split up. But, we will be less safe in the face of every other danger in the world. I would have died many times already if it weren’t for you guys.”

  Bob wiped a wing across his face, drying his tears. “Zeke is right. We can’t split up.”

  Now, no one disagreed with me.

  I breathed a sigh of relief. I could not imagine living without my friends. We would have to make this work!

  Chapter 4

  When I woke up the next day, Otis was already gone. Had he changed his mind? Had he decided to abandon us?

  Where he had been sleeping, there was a note which read:

  Went scouting. – Otis.

  I breathed a sigh of relief.

  “He said he’d be back in an hour,” said Zeb. “But that was over two hours ago.”

  I furrowed my brow. “Do you think something happened to him?” I said.

  Zeb shrugged. “Hard to know with Otis. He could have just lost track of time. Or, he could have been captured by some players. Who knows?”

  “I had better go check it out,” I said.

  I walked over to where Harold and Bob were sleeping. Careful not to disturb Bob, I gently shook Harold awake.

  “Wha?” said Harold, still waking up.

  “We need to go look for Otis,” I whispered, and then added, “Don’t wake Bob.”

  Harold nodded. He stood up on his scrawny chicken legs and walked a few feet away from Bob. Then, he stretched and flapped his wings and jumped up and down, moving his legs side-to-side, like a cheerleader. I couldn’t help but laugh.

  “Does my morning routine amuse you?” asked Harold.

  I nodded. “Yeah, it does.”

  “Well, if you had to carry around a zombie on your back all day, you would stretch too,” snorted Harold, mildly annoyed.

  “Sorry, buddy,” I said, tossing Harold some grain. He leaned down and pecked the grains for a couple minutes and then straightened himself and said, “Ready.”

  I walked over to him and sat on his back.

  “See you soon, Zeb,” I said, raising my diamond sword in salute.

  “If you don’t spot him by noon, come back and we’ll figure something else out. Okay?” said Zeb.

  “Agreed,” I said as I kicked my heels into Harold’s sides and we trotted out of the cave.

  We needed to be careful in the bright sunlight. There were always lots of players about during the day.

  We kept to the forests as much as possible, darting from the cover of one birch tree to an oak tree to a birch tree and so on.

  We had been searching for Otis for nearly an hour, when we heard a sound.

  “Harold, quick, hide over there,” I barked in a hushed voice. “I hear something.”

  Harold raced behind a nearby boulder and crouched behind it.

  “Wait here, Harold,” I said. “I’ll go check it out.”

  I crawled on my hands and knees in the direction of the sound.

  As I got closer, I could tell it was voices. Maybe some mobs?

  I crept as slowly as I could to the edge of the boulder and peeked around it, looking down the cliff I was perched on.

  When I looked down, I could see two players at the base of a cliff, many blocks below me. They were talking about something, but I could only make out a few words.

  “... village … cheap … emeralds … zombies .... attack … diamonds ...”

  They were far enough away that I could run and avoid them. I turned around and was about to return to where Harold was waiting when I came face-to-face with two different players, their swords drawn, pointing directly at my head.

  Chapter 5

  The players looked liked they knew what was up. They were definitely not noobs, but obviously not super-dominant either.

  They each had iron swords and complete armor, though some of it was leather and some of it was iron. I was certain they had killed quite a few zombies already.

  “Check it out, Kevin,” said one of them. “A baby zombie.”

  “Yeah, Chris,” said Kevin. “You don’t see that everyday.”

  “Let’s kill it,” said Chris. “I could use the experience.”

  I put my hands in front of my face and begged, “No, please don’t kill me!”

  Kevin and Chris looked at each other dumbfounded. Finally, Chris said, “Wait. You can talk?”

  I nodded my head.

  “How can you talk? Is it some sort of enchantment?” asked Kevin.

  Enchantment? What was he talking about?

  “No,” I said. “All mobs can talk.”

  Chris and Kevin appeared stupefied, like I had told them that Notch was just some rich guy with a beard and not the almighty Creator of the universe.

  “Really?” asked Chris.

  “Yes. You didn’t know that? I thought all players knew that,” I said.

  “I guess I’ve never tried to speak with a mob. I just … well … just kill them,” said Chris.

  That upset me, but I was in no position to argue. “Well, we talk, have feelings, and even names.”

  “Oh yeah,” said Kevin. “What’s your name?”

  Before I could answer, Harold came rushing out of his hiding place and jumped on Kevin’s back and pecked at his neck.

  “Ouch,” yelled Kevin.

  “Run, Zeke, run!” yelled Harold.

  But, Chris was too fast. He grabbed me from behind and held his sword to my neck.

  “Get off my friend, you crazy chicken, or I’ll kill your baby zombie buddy here,” said Chris.

  Harold realized that he had no choice but to release Kevin. He gave him one last peck and then jumped to the ground. Once he was on the ground, he stood next to me and said, “I’m sorry, Zeke. I tried. I guess this is the end.”

  Chris stepped away from me, but kept his sword pointed at me.

  I looked down at Harold. “Yes, I guess it is. I was glad we could be friends and have so many adventures together.”

  Chris and Kevin, still dumbfounded by the revelation that zombies and chickens could talk, suddenly got strange looks on their faces.

  “Wait a minute, chicken,” said Kevin. “What did you call that baby zombie?”

  “My name is Zeke,” I told him.

  When I said my name, I could tell it surprised them. More like it shocked them. Kevin took off his helmet and scratched his head.

  “You wouldn’t happen to be a chicken jockey, would you?” asked Kevin.

  “I won’t be once you kill my friend here,” I said bitterly.

  “What kind of sword do you have?” asked Chris, leaning forward in anticipation of my answer.

  “Diamond.”

  This excited both of them very much.

  “Dude, Chris, ya think?”

  “Kevin, bro, maybe so.”

  They dude-ed and bro-ed back and forth for a while. I thought about trying to sneak away while they were distracted by their verbal high-fives, but did not want to risk making them angry.

  Finally, Kevin turned to me and asked, “Are you Baby Zeke? The Chicken Jockey who fought Herobrine?”

  Chapter 6

  I must admit that this question shocked me. It had only been a few days since the Herobrine battle and somehow these players already knew about it.

  “Yes. I fought Herobrine, along with my friends, including Harold here,” I said, pointing to my loyal steed. Harold spread his wings and took a bow.

  “So cool,” said Chris.

  The two players lowered their swords. It was clear that they were no longer going to kill me.

  “How did you two hear about the battle anyway?” I asked.

  “Oh, man, everyone is talking about it. The villagers can’t stop going on about how you went after Herobrine and how the Ender King himself showed up and saved you,” said Kevin
.

  “But, who told them?” asked Harold. “It was just us mobs there, and we haven’t told anyone.”

  The two players shrugged.

  “Maybe it was one of the endermen? Since you say you mobs can talk to each other, maybe he teleported to the Overworld and told an iron golem who told a villager?” suggested Chris.

  “Yeah, info like this won’t stay secret for long. It’s way too awesome,” said Kevin.

  What they said was possible, I suppose, but did not seem very likely. It was suspicious that this information got spread around so quickly. Maybe if it had been a week or two since the battle with Herobrine, I would agree with Chris’s explanation. But, something was peculiar about all of this.

  I clapped my hands together and looked at the players. “Well, it was nice meeting you. Thanks for not killing us.” I looked over at Harold. “We need to go, birdman.”

  “Wait,” said Chris and Kevin at the same time.

  “What?” I asked as I jumped on Harold’s back.

  Chris and Kevin looked a bit embarrassed as they spoke. “Uh, could we have your autograph?” They each held up a small book.

  “You want me to sign your own Minecraft diaries?” I asked, amazed that two players would show so much respect to a mob.

  “Please,” they said.

  I took their diaries and pulled out my quill.

  In Chris’s diary I wrote: Chris, keep being awesome. Your friend, Baby Zeke.

  In Kevin’s diary I wrote: Mobs rule. Players drool. Best wishes, Baby Zeke.

  I returned the diaries to the players. They read what I wrote, looked up at me, looked at each other, and then slapped a high-five.

  “Wait till I show everyone on the server. They will be totally jealous,” said Chris.

  I waved goodbye to the players as I gave Harold a gentle kick in the ribs. The players waved back.

  I guess not all players are so bad. All a mob has to do is battle Herobrine and save the world and suddenly they want to be your friend, I thought.

  “Harold, does it seem strange to you that the story of our battle with Herobrine is already common knowledge throughout the Overworld?”

  Harold clucked as he considered my question. “Maybe. But, as they say, rumor volat.”

  “Huh?”

  “Rumor flies. And, anything about Herobrine will certainly have wings.”

  “Ah, I see,” I said. “But, hey, what was that language you were speaking anyway?” I asked.

  “It’s some weird language we chickens speak sometimes. I just know some phrases in it,” explained Harold.

  “What’s the language called?” I asked, suddenly intrigued by this random and totally irrelevant fact.

  “I have no idea. We chickens just use it sometimes,” said Harold. “I guess it comes from the primordial ooze.”

  “Weird,” I said, shaking my head. “Anyway, let’s get back to the cave and tell the others about all of this.”

  “Agreed,” said Harold as he began trotting more quickly toward home.

  Chapter 7

  We were about halfway back to our temporary cave when we heard voices up ahead. It sounded like they were coming from behind a group of trees located directly in front of us.

  “Hide,” I whispered to Harold.

  Harold wasted no time and ducked behind a nearby boulder. I jumped off his back and crouched down, making myself as small as I could. Even though I was a baby zombie, this was a very small rock and I was not sure it would cover me entirely.

  The two voices got closer.

  “I thought I heard something over here,” said one voice.

  “A mob?” said the other.

  “Maybe.”

  I started to shake. Obviously, two players were very close, and they might not be as friendly as Chris and Kevin. I was fairly confident I could defeat a single player, but two together was risky.

  “Wait here,” said Harold.

  “No,” I whispered, reaching out my stubby, undead arm to stop him. But, I was not quick enough.

  Harold stood up and clucked a few times and walked out from behind the rock. He acted oblivious to the players.

  “Check it out,” said one of the players.

  The other laughed. “I guess you just heard that chicken. Man, those are some dumb birds. Doesn’t he know we could kill him and eat him?”

  “Probably not,” said the other, who added in a menacing voice, “Why don’t we find out?”

  I could hear the player’s footsteps approaching Harold. I did not know what to do. Harold might be able to get away, but if the player had a bow, he could probably shoot Harold even if Harold was running at top speed.

  I could not let my friend die. Or, at least, not die alone.

  I slowly drew my diamond sword and then jumped from behind the rock.

  “Not so fast!” I yelled, as I rushed to Harold and stood in front of him to prevent the player’s attack.

  The players were clearly not expecting me. One of them dropped his iron sword and ducked behind a tree to hide. The other stood his ground, but his knees were shaking. I recognized them as the two players I had seen earlier from on top of the cliff.

  I slowly approached the player with the shaking knees. “Leave my friend alone,” I said through clenched teeth.

  “It’s cool, bro,” said the player, putting his hands in front of his body and motioning me to calm down.

  “I’m not your bro,” I said.

  “Totally, you aren’t my bro,” said the player, agreeing with the sword-wielding baby zombie. And then, a look of utter surprise and fascination flashed across his face before being replaced with his look of fear. What, exactly, was that look?

  I felt Harold nudge me from behind. “Zeke, let’s get out of here,” he said.

  When Harold said my name, I noticed that the player’s eyes narrowed. The wimpy player who had been hiding peeked his head from behind the tree and looked at me with wide eyes.

  “Zeke?” said the player nearest me.

  “Yeah, so?” I asked, holding my sword at the ready.

  “Baby Zeke? The one who battled Herobrine?” said the player who had been hiding behind the tree, but who now was emerging from cover.

  I sighed. Here we go again, I thought.

  “You guys want my autograph, too?”

  The both nodded their heads like star-struck groupies. They reached into their inventories and pulled out their personal diaries. They approached me cautiously and handed me their diaries.

  I put my sword away and pulled my quill from my inventory, looked down at a blank page of the first diary and asked, “Who should I make this out to?”

  “Herobrine.”

  That was when I realized what a serious miscalculation I had made. I looked up to see the player pointing his sword at my throat, while the other player had grabbed Harold by the neck.

  We were trapped.

  “What’s this all about?” I demanded, tossing the diaries to the ground.

  “About 1,000 diamonds,” said one of the players.

  “Yeah, Herobrine put a bounty on you. He was pretty upset about you interfering with his plans,” said the other.

  “But, you are players. I thought all of you were afraid of Herobrine,” I said, hoping to get on their good side and convince them to let me go.

  “Yeah, Herobrine is a freak, but 1,000 diamonds is mad wealth.”

  “Yeah, it’s just business, Zeke,” added the wimpy player.

  I looked at Harold. I could tell he was sad. I was sad too.

  What sort of tortures did Herobrine have in store for us? Would he make us suffer before he killed us? Would he brainwash us to become his servants? I shuddered at the possibilities.

  “What now?” I asked.

  “Now, we take you to the transfer point. One of Herobrine’s minions will pick you up there,” said the player holding the sword at my neck.

  “And we will get paid,” said the other player.

  The players force
d me to walk a short distance to a horse-drawn cart parked behind a stand of trees. The back of the cart was covered by an iron cage. The player holding Harold unlocked a door to the cage and tossed Harold into the back. He landed with a thud.

  “Don’t hurt my friend,” I said.

  “Or what?” said the player viciously.

  “Get in,” said the other player, poking my back with the tip of his sword for emphasis.

  I climbed into the cage and sat down next to Harold. He looked up at me with his forlorn chicken eyes. I put my arm on his back.

  We sat there in silence as the cart began to move.

  After we had ridden in the cart for most of the day – which was really uncomfortable due to the cart having square wheels – the players stopped the cart and walked around to the door of the cage.

  “Get up and stand by the door,” one ordered.

  “Why?” I asked.

  “Just do it,” the player demanded.

  Harold and I got up and stood by the door.

  “Turn around and kneel.”

  We did as we were told. Suddenly, the players put cloth bags over our heads. They tied them around our necks.

  “What’s this about?” I said, panicking because I unable to see anything.

  “We don’t want you to see where we are going,” said a player.

  How humiliating, I thought. My final hours alive before Herobrine takes me and I won’t be able to see the world.

  I heard the players walk back to the front of the cart and snap the whip on the horse. The cart began its slow, lumbering pace toward our doom.

  I could not help but sob. I heard Harold sobbing too. We did not speak. We were too sad for words.

  Chapter 8

  We rode in the cart for another few hours. I could not tell exactly how long, but I could feel the air getting colder and knew that it was a few hours into the night when we arrived at our destination.

  I could hear the wheels move from dirt to stone. We were on a path of some kind.