Minecraft, page 1
Minecraft: Zombies! is a work of fiction. Names, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2022 Mojang AB. All rights reserved. Minecraft, the Minecraft logo, and the Mojang Studios logo are trademarks of the Microsoft group of companies.
Published in the United States by Del Rey, an imprint of Random House, a division of Penguin Random House LLC, New York.
Del Rey and the Circle colophon are registered trademarks of Penguin Random House LLC.
Published in the United Kingdom by Century, an imprint of Random House UK, London.
Hardback ISBN 9780593498514
International ISBN 9780593500996
Ebook ISBN 9780593498521
Illustration: Kaz Oomori
randomhousebooks.com
Book design by Elizabeth A. D. Eno, adapted for ebook
Cover art: Kaz Oomori
Cover design: Scott Biel
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Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Illustration
Dedication
Acknowledgments
By Nick Eliopulos
About the Author
CHAPTER 1
It was a dark, moonless night when the stranger came to Plaintown.
Bobbie was done with her daily chores, and her baby brother was fast asleep. For the first time all day, the house was still and quiet, and Bobbie found her gaze drifting out her bedroom window.
She saw movement beyond the torchlight.
At first, she thought her eyes were playing tricks on her. It was hard to see anything on a night like this one, when the moon was blocked by dark clouds and the torches set up around town only served to deepen the shadows. She drew closer to the window; she squinted into the darkness.
There—she’d been right. It wasn’t a trick of the flickering torchlight, and it wasn’t Shepherd Ellis’s sheep running loose again. It was a person moving out there. But their movements were strange. They shuffled slowly forward, reaching out with both arms as if for balance.
Bobbie thought it might be a zombie. She’d heard stories about them: mindless, rotting creatures with putrid green flesh and sunken black eyes. They were dead things that stalked the night to prey upon the living.
She was revolted—and curious. She leaned in for a closer look.
As she watched the figure, it seemed to totter and sway, like little baby Johnny had when he’d taken his first steps. Then it stumbled, as if tripping over its own feet, and dropped to the ground right beneath a lit torch.
In the light, Bobbie could see the figure clearly for the first time. It wasn’t a zombie at all. It was a boy. And he needed help!
Bobbie’s parents honked in protest as she ran past them and threw open the front door. She ignored them. She knew very well that it was against the rules for villagers to leave the safety of their homes after the sun went down. But she also knew that she’d be forgiven for breaking the rules if she could help someone in need.
“Hello?” Bobbie said as she approached the fallen figure. “Can you hear me? I’m Barbara—Bobbie.”
The figure raised his head. “Poison,” he said weakly.
The word chilled Bobbie to her core. Poison. Did that mean someone had done this on purpose?
“I need to get you to our cleric,” she said. “Do you think you can make it? It isn’t far.” She took his arm and put it around her shoulder, helping him back to his feet. He took shuffling, uncertain footsteps, but as long as she supported his weight, she knew he wouldn’t fall again.
She wouldn’t let him fall.
Plaintown’s temple was only a few doors down from her family’s home. She didn’t bother knocking. Cleric Avery, surprised by the intrusion, rushed down the stone stairs to question her.
“He’s been poisoned,” Bobbie explained.
The cleric grumbled, gesturing toward a table. Bobbie helped the stranger climb on top of it. His iron armor clanked against the wood surface. In the bright interior light of the temple, she could see how bad he looked. No wonder she’d thought he was a zombie; he looked half dead.
Cleric Avery examined the boy, honking their conclusions at Bobbie.
“Wither?” she said, doing her best to understand the cleric’s gestures and utterances. “Is there a cure? Do you have a potion…?”
The cleric’s answer surprised her. But she knew better than to ask if they were joking. In Bobbie’s experience, Cleric Avery didn’t tell jokes.
Bobbie ran out into the night, heading to the northernmost edge of town. That’s where the animals were kept: two sheep, twice as many chickens, and a cow named Daisy.
Bobbie had never milked a cow at night before. But this was an emergency, and although Daisy gave her a funny look, the cow didn’t complain.
As soon as Bobbie had returned to the temple, Cleric Avery forced the stranger to drink the milk, straight from the bucket.
“Did it work?” Bobbie asked, impatient. “Will he be all right?”
The cleric grumbled in response. The worst of the danger was over—the milk had cured the wither poisoning—but the stranger was still weak. He needed rest.
“In other words, it’s time for me to leave,” said Bobbie. “I can take a hint, Cleric.” But she hesitated on her way out the door, turning back to smile warmly at the villager. “Thank you for your help. I knew I could count on you.”
Cleric Avery grumbled again, uncomfortable with her gratitude. The cleric, like most of Plaintown’s residents, didn’t enjoy surprises, interruptions, or any sort of deviation from their daily routines. And tonight’s events were certainly unusual. Adventurers came through the village every so often, usually to trade for goods or to use a crafting station. This was the first time an outsider had really, truly needed the villagers’ help, though. And Plaintown had delivered.
Bobbie felt a rush of pride and satisfaction. She basked in the glow of a good deed done well.
She might have felt differently, if she’d only known the trouble that the stranger would bring to her life.
CHAPTER 2
Bobbie was good at mending fences.
She’d had a lot of practice. Plaintown was sleepy and simple and small, but it was located right in the heart of open grassland, with no trees or hills or mountains to hide it from view. Bobbie had never seen the village from a great distance, but she could imagine it was visible for miles and miles—especially at night, when its torches would twinkle like stars against a landscape as dark as ink.
Night was when the monsters roamed freely.
She would hear them, sometimes, as she lay in bed trying to fall asleep. The click-clack clattering of walking, stalking skeletons. The hiss and scuttle of a spider as it skittered across the roof. Once, she had even seen an Enderman walking through her living room. It had made strange noises, moved some of her parents’ furniture around, and then disappeared in a shower of purple starbursts. She hadn’t slept a wink that night.
And then there were the adventurers. Unlike villagers, adventurers had no permanent home—and no real responsibilities. They wandered from place to place, and from what Bobbie had seen, they didn’t always prioritize manners along the way. They cut holes into walls and fences to save walking just a few steps. They took whatever they liked from a villager’s chest or garden and left their trash behind. They got into fights with monsters—or with each other—oblivious to the damage they caused.
Bobbie couldn’t understand that. She would never go around breaking other people’s things.
But as long as things got broken in Plaintown, she’d be there to mend them.
“There you go, Shepherd Ellis,” she said, and she set a final piece of fence into place. She’d used oak so that her repair job would match the rest of the fence—and everything else in the village. Aside from a bit of stone, all of Plaintown was made of oak. “See? You can’t even tell that there was ever any damage.”
Shepherd Ellis hr med and hawed in the garbled language of the village. Bobbie had to pay close attention to get the gist of what the shepherd was saying.
She nodded patiently, squinting in the sunlight. “They can’t have gotten far—they never do,” she said. “But I’ll find your sheep and bring them back. I promise.”
As Shepherd Ellis turned to inspect her repair job, Bobbie strolled south, down the dirt road that ran through the town. She waved to several of her neighbors as they milled around the town square, where a large oak tree stood right at the center of the village. They called it the Heart Oak, and villagers often gathered beneath it for gossip before the day’s work began. “Good morning, folks!” she said, and they waved back.
The village temple stood across from the tree. Bobbie stepped inside it, calling out, “Cleric Avery? It’s me, Bobbie.”
The cleric looked up from their brewing stand, where some new potion bubbled and boiled.
“Where’s our guest?” asked Bobbie. “Is he feeling better?”
The cleric honked and gestured around in agitation.
“He took off?” Bobbie said. “And left his garbage behind?” Bobbie picked up a stack of discarded dirt blocks from the floor, and she sighed. “So much for gratitude,” she said. “I guess he was just another adventurer after all.”
Bobbie slipped out the door to continue her rounds. She visited Fletcher Lee, who was running low on feathers, and Mason Bradley, who proudly showed off a stone they had polished to shining.
Cartographer Haven’s house appeared empty. “Hello?” Bobbie called. “I’m just checking to make sure you’re good on supplies.”
There was no answer. Bobbie took a look inside the cartographer’s chest—they were almost out of bread; she’d have to bake some today—and then she lingered, looking around the bright room. It was a colorful space, with paintings and potted flowers and a packed bookshelf. She spun the needle on a desktop compass and examined a large map that had been affixed to the wall.
Plaintown was only the smallest dot upon that map. It was almost impossible to fathom that everything Bobbie knew could fit into such a tiny space. The world was so big.
And the ocean! Nearly a third of the map was devoted to a swirling expanse of blue. How could there be that much water in all the Overworld?
Bobbie was so engrossed in her thoughts that she almost didn’t hear it.
A shuffling sound. The tiniest movement.
Bobbie wasn’t alone.
“Hello?” she said, turning around in a circle. She didn’t see anyone, so she stopped and listened.
She could barely hear it, but it was there: the faintest sound of breathing.
“Hello?” she said again, alert for any sign of movement. “Is someone there?”
With a gleeful gurgling noise, a small figure launched itself at Bobbie, leaping from atop a nearby bookshelf. Bobbie screeched in surprise as the figure wrapped its arms around her. Caught off balance, she stumbled, landing flat on her bottom. Her attacker laughed as they fell, squeezing her tighter.
She wasn’t being attacked, Bobbie realized. She was being hugged.
Where her baby brother was involved, it was an easy mistake to make.
“Johnny!” she cried. “You almost gave me a heart attack.”
Her brother gurgled happily, as if he’d just won a game that Bobbie hadn’t even realized they were playing. She hugged him back, but an instant later he had ducked out of her embrace and run over to the desk, which he proceeded to climb for no discernible reason.
“What are you doing here?” Bobbie asked him. “Do you want to make maps when you grow up? I bet you’d be a great cartographer.” She watched to see if he would pick up the compass, but at the moment he seemed more interested in his own two feet.
Bobbie liked to imagine what her brother might grow up to be. She saw potential clues in everything he did. Tap dancing on an anvil? Maybe he’d be a blacksmith. Cuddling up to a tuft of wool? Maybe he’d take over for Shepherd Ellis one day.
As she watched Johnny jump around in front of the great big map of the Overworld, she felt relieved to know one thing for certain: Johnny might be adventurous, but he’d never grow up to be an adventurer. It simply didn’t happen; villagers were villagers, adventurers were adventurers, and one couldn’t become the other.
A good thing, too. Just the thought of being parted from her brother made her heart hurt.
Cartographer Haven appeared in the doorway, harumphing about the commotion and shooing the siblings back outside. “Sorry!” Bobbie said, laughing as the cartographer shut the door in their faces.
“Bad baby,” Bobbie said and wagged a finger, but she was smiling as she said it. “Do our parents know where you are? Do they even know you left the house?”
Johnny giggled before turning and wandering off.
The kid had a habit of wandering. Bobbie tended to find him in the strangest places—climbing on roofs and balconies, chasing chickens, or jumping on beds. Bobbie assumed it was normal behavior for a baby, but it was exhausting to keep up with him. She’d once spent an entire day trying to track him down, only to finally discover him napping inside Leatherworker Shane’s cauldron. (Shane still gave them dirty looks, and Bobbie couldn’t really blame them.)
She watched him now as he toddled up to the town golem. Goalie was a gentle giant, a construct carved from iron who kept watch over the town. Bobbie slept a little sounder knowing that Goalie was always there, always alert—always ready to protect the village and its inhabitants from any danger that found its way to Plaintown.
Goalie stood a head taller than any villager, and twice as tall as Johnny, with broad shoulders and long, powerful limbs. But Johnny wasn’t intimidated by the golem. As Bobbie watched, Goalie held out a flower—a bright red poppy—and Johnny, unafraid, walked up and plucked the flower from the iron giant’s grasp.
“Remember your manners, Johnny. What do you say?” prodded Bobbie and, when it was clear that Johnny had nothing to say, she turned to the golem. “Thanks, Goalie.”
Without a mouth, Goalie couldn’t respond. In fact, it was usually impossible to know what the golem might be thinking. Bobbie thought she saw the golem’s eyes glimmer whenever she spoke to it, though.
Johnny ran off toward home—probably plotting all sorts of mischief on the way, but at least he was headed in the right direction. Bobbie continued south, to the outskirts of town and beyond. The dirt road through the village ended in a field of grass and dandelions just past the library. Away from the buildings, Bobbie’s view stretched for miles across the flat grassland. There was literally no place for Ellis’s sheep to hide; Bobbie saw them grazing beside a small pond.
Conveniently, there were fresh shoots of sugar cane growing along the pond’s edge. Bobbie could use them to make sugar for baking…and perhaps she could also make a gift of fresh paper for the cartographer, to apologize for her brother’s antics. She broke the sugar cane apart with her hands, stashing the material in her inventory before turning her attention to the sheep. “Come on, Bo. Come on, Peep,” she said. “Vacation’s over. Time to go home!”
Bo gazed mutely at her, while Peep baaed defiantly. Although she might have had that backward; it was hard to tell the sheep apart.
“Oh, fine, we can take a minute,” said Bobbie, and she settled down to sit beside the water. “You’re both as stubborn as Johnny. And anyway, what’s the point of trying to run off? What’s out there that’s so great?” She swept a hand over the plain, which went on nearly as far as the eye could see before finally coming to an end at a distant mountain range.
Bobbie sighed. “I’ll tell you what’s out there. Chaos and danger. Greedy, reckless adventurers. And things that want to eat you.” She turned back toward the village. “Plaintown is home, and home is safe. You know what’s expected of you, today and tomorrow and the day after that. Because nothing ever changes, and—”
