Terrors of the Forest

by Mark Cheverton

  Grabbing an overstuffed pillow, Tommy positioned it on the desk so he could rest his head when the Digitizer took him into the game. The many bruises he’d received on his forehead had taught him to have something soft to catch him when the Digitizer took over his mind, or being, or whatever it did. He didn’t really understand it, and he wasn’t sure if his dad did either, but it worked, and that was all that mattered right now.

  “I hope you’re all right in there, friends,” Tommy said to the screen.

  An image of blocky terrain showed on the computer monitor. A tall, rocky outcropping extended out over a wide basin, a waterfall cascading from the overhang of stone and dirt and falling into a pool underneath. This was where he always spawned when he went into Minecraft, and he knew the area well.

  With his right hand, he grabbed a bottle of water and drained it. He’d also learned to be well hydrated so he didn’t get too thirsty while he was in Minecraft. Setting the empty bottle aside (he’d learned not to throw it into the trash, since that was how all this started) and wiped his sweaty brow.

  Tommy’s breathing was shallow and fast. He was very nervous—no, he was scared. Setting his head on the pillow, he reached out and flipped the power button on the Digitizer to the START position. Instantly, a buzzing sound began to fill the air. At first, it sounded like a group of flies zipping past his ears, then it grew louder, morphing from flies to bees. The sound grew more intense, changing from a handful of bees to an entire hive. Lights flashed on and off as the power grew. The bees turned into angry hornets as the buzzing filled the basement.

  I hope my parents don’t hear, he thought. If they do, then they’ll …

  Suddenly, Tommy was enveloped in bright white light. He closed his eyes, but the light was still there, as if it were coming from within him. Waves of heat and cold smashed down upon him. Beads of sweat rolled down his forehead even though he shivered from the chill. The room felt as if it were beginning to spin around him, slowly at first, then faster and faster, as if he were being sucked down a bathtub drain. And then …

  … as quickly as it had started, it was over. The brilliant white light that had blazed from within was gone. He opened his eyes slowly. A cow mooed nearby, followed by the bleats of a sheep. The landscape around him had changed from piles of boxes, stacks of books, heaps of failed inventions, and old jet engine parts, to a blocky landscape of grass-covered cubes, boxy trees, and large rectangular clouds floating in a blue sky.

  He was back! He was in Minecraft again!

  Getting to his feet, he glanced up at the tall hill before him. At the top, there was a tall column of stone that stretched high into the air, with burning torches adorning its sides.

  He smiled. In the real world, he was Tommy, but here in Minecraft, he was Gameknight999.

  He moved to the pool into which the water fell from far overhead. A spray of mist floated in the air, coating his face with cool moisture. Gameknight smiled. That waterfall had saved his life the first time he’d come into Minecraft, by capturing a giant spider in its flowing embrace, so he always thought fondly of it. Glancing down into the water, Gameknight saw his own reflection staring back at him. His dark blue eyes looked back at him from a blocky head and square face, and his short-cropped brown hair seemed, as always, disheveled. The blue shirt he wore almost matched his eyes, but the green pants certainly didn’t. It was the skin he’d chosen for his Minecraft account long ago, and he would never change it now; this was what his friends in Minecraft expected.

  Moving away from the water, he walked to a nearby oak tree. Gameknight quickly started to break the leaves, hoping to find an apple; it was always prudent to have food on hand in case he was injured. A sapling fell from the leaves and moved into his inventory, but no apples followed.

  Gameknight sighed, disappointed, then ran to the side of the hill and punched two cubes of dirt until they shattered and fell into his inventory. The flickering light of torches spilled out of the opening; this was his hidey-hole. He moved into the tiny cave and was happy to see a chest, furnace, and crafting bench. This was the shelter he’d built when he was first pulled into Minecraft by his father’s Digitizer. It seemed so long ago. The villagers had agreed to keep the cave stocked with supplies, just for this reason. He hoped they were still doing that.

  Stepping to the chest, he opened it, and then breathed a sigh of relief. Inside were his armor, weapons, and supplies. Gameknight pulled out the diamond armor and put it on, then grabbed food and torches. He reached for his enchanted sword and bow, and put both into his inventory along with a single arrow. The bow had the Infinity enchantment on it; he only needed one arrow, and the magical spell would take care of the rest.

  Stepping out of his hidey-hole, he sealed the opening again with the blocks of dirt, then started to run toward a place that he’d been to a hundred times: Crafter’s village. It wasn’t clear if he’d be able to make it to the village before dark, but Gameknight wasn’t concerned. He was fully armored and heavily armed; there was nothing in Minecraft that would surprise him now.

  He ran across the rolling, grass-covered hills, past groups of cows and chickens and pigs. The animals watched him with their dark eyes, their pleasant moos and clucks and oinks filling the air. Carefully watching for holes in the ground, Gameknight sprinted for as long as he could, then slowed to a walk, and then ran again when he caught his breath. He streaked across the grasslands like a shimmering diamond missile, speeding across the land with his enchanted bow in his hand, arrow notched. Ahead was a forest biome, but there seemed to be something different about it. The color of the trees seemed … wrong, somehow. Some trees were bigger than others. In fact, they seemed too tall, twice the size of a normal oak. That’s strange, he thought.

  Colorful flowers dotted the forest floor like scattered dabs of paint on an artist’s canvas. It added a rich and beautiful touch to the normally mundane biome. As soon as he crossed over into the new landscape, his senses were filled with the peaceful nature of the environment. A banquet of aromas wafted into his nose, as the flowers made their presence known to more than his eyes. Gameknight stopped for a moment to take it all in; the smells, the colors, the rustling of the leaves, the buzzing of the bees … it was all so fantastic, so unusual.

  “Bees?!” he said aloud.

  Gameknight heard bees buzzing; he’d never heard that before. Bees didn’t exist in Minecraft, did they? Off to the right, a white beehive, just a little smaller than a single block, sat on the ground, a dark entrance in its side. Bees moved in and out of the hive, flying to the many flowers nearby, then returning home. Gameknight moved away from the hive, since he wasn’t sure if they were hostile or not.

  As he moved through the forest, the User-that-is-not-a-user realized the trees were all the wrong color. Some were a dark red, some orange, some yellow … they were fall colors, not the usual deep green he’d come to expect.

  “How is this possible?” Gameknight said to himself as he looked around at the forest.

  Now he was getting a little scared. Something was wrong. Images of his friends, Crafter, Digger, Hunter, Stitcher, and Herder popped into his head. He had to make sure they were safe.

  Sprinting again, he dashed through the forest, this time ignoring the colorful plants and focusing on the task at hand: getting to Crafter’s village. Ignoring his fatigue, he pushed his body as hard as he could. When he reached the end of the forest, Gameknight stopped for a moment to eat a loaf of bread, then continued to run across the next grassy plain, which he knew led to the village.

  Ahead was a large grass-covered hill with bright red and yellow flowers dotting its surface. Gameknight999 darted up the side, knowing he’d be able to see the village from the summit. But when he reached the top of the hill, he was shocked by what he saw.

  Crafter’s village was there, but it was twice the size he expected, and the fortifications were massive. Instead of a cobblestone wall that was only one block wide, the village now had a wall that was easily half
a dozen blocks wide. Tall towers with multiple NPCs in each rose up over the village. Instead of the surrounding wall being built in the shape of a square, this new wall had bends and angles to it that extended outward in places, but also jutted inward toward the collection of homes it protected. The fortification created a complex shape that must have been difficult to build, and defend. It made no sense.

  Just then, someone yelled from atop the watchtower; they’d seen him.

  Gameknight ran toward the village. He glanced to the sun. It was nearing the horizon, getting ready to set and turn the Overworld from a place of relative safety to one where monsters ruled.

  As he approached, the gate burst open and a group of villagers came out, with his friend, Crafter, at the front. He wore his normal clothing, a black smock with a gray stripe running down the center. The rest of the villagers wore iron armor and helmets, with the exception of two girls, both of whom had streaming red hair flowing down their backs, their curls bouncing with every step.

  “Gameknight, you’re back,” Crafter exclaimed as he approached.

  But the young NPC’s blue eyes were not as bright and hopeful as Gameknight remembered. Usually, Crafter was a fountain of hope and positive affirmation, but now, he seemed sad and tired.

  Hunter moved to Gameknight’s side and punched him in the arm. “I knew you couldn’t stay away for long.”

  “Well, I had to come back and check on something,” Gameknight replied.

  He glanced at Stitcher, Hunter’s younger sister. She was scowling as if she was angry. With her bow out and an arrow drawn back, she scanned the terrain, looking for monsters.

  “Stitcher, aren’t you gonna say hello?” the User-that-is-not-a-user asked.

  “Whatever … hi,” she grumbled.

  Usually she would have smiled at him and given him a big hug, her positive attitude just a notch below Crafter’s; this was strange.

  “Stitcher, what’s wrong?” he asked.

  She didn’t reply, just continued to scan the horizon.

  “What are you doing?” Hunter whispered. “Don’t get her mad. You know how she gets when people pester her.”

  It was almost as if Hunter was afraid of her sister’s temper … which wasn’t like her at all. What’s going on here?

  “Crafter, I came back because I was thinking about your great uncle, Weaver,” Gameknight999 said. “When you were young, did he …”

  “Great uncle Weaver? I don’t have a relative by that name,” Crafter said.

  “Of course you do. He taught you about TNT and fireworks. Weaver even told you the famous saying, ‘Many problems with monsters can be solved with a little creativity and a lot of TNT.’ Don’t you remember that?”

  “That’s a great saying, I guess,” Crafter said, a frown on his face. “But I’ve never heard it before.”

  “And why would you use TNT on monsters?” Hunter said. “I don’t think that’s ever been done. TNT is just used for mining and that’s all.”

  “Crafter, are you saying you don’t remember Weaver?” Gameknight asked. A chill settled across his body; he was afraid to hear the answer.

  “I’ve met some Weavers before, but I never had a great uncle by that name,” Crafter said. “I’m sure of it.”

  The User-that-is-not-a-user sighed as waves of guilt crashed down up on him.

  Weaver, I failed to protect you, but I’ll get you back … if I can, he thought.

  Doubts and fears circled around him like moths to a flame. If Crafter had never heard of Weaver, then that meant the kidnapping had actually happened. But why?

  He glanced across the grasslands to the distant forest. The unusually tall trees that shouldn’t have existed in Minecraft stood high above the oaks and birches; their presence caused alarm bells to go off in his head.

  “Something’s changed in Minecraft,” Gameknight said. “Something’s wrong.”

  “As long as there are monsters to destroy, who cares what’s changed,” Stitcher growled.

  Gameknight looked at his friend in shock. A thirst for violence wrapped around the younger sister like a thorny shroud. The Stitcher he knew was the kindest person in all of Minecraft. She always wanted to find a solution that avoided violence, but here she was, talking as if she wanted to destroy every monster in the Overworld.

  Something’s definitely changed, he though. And it’s not good.

  Somehow, this was all linked to Weaver, but how? The dangerous expression in Stitcher’s eyes, and the way in which the other villagers talked around her made it seem they were all afraid … of Stitcher. It made Gameknight sad.

  If Weaver’s absence caused this, what else might be wrong with Minecraft?

  The possibilities circled Gameknight like vultures around a wounded animal. He had to save Weaver, but what if he couldn’t? What if he wasn’t smart enough or strong enough or … all the possible ways he could fail piled up within his mind, each one just another brick in a growing wall of doubt.

  A square tear trickled out of his eye and tumbled down his cheek. He was overwhelmed with guilt, but also filled with anger at the mysterious person in the green leafy armor he’d seen in his dream, the one responsible for taking Weaver away. Unconsciously, he reached into his inventory and pulled out his diamond sword, then drew his iron blade with his left hand. He gripped the handles of the weapons tight, squeezing them with every bit of rage that now flowed through his body.

  Suddenly, a voice shouted from the edge of the forest.

  “Smithy! HELP!”

  Gameknight turned toward the sound and was shocked at what he saw. There was Weaver! He was sitting on the back of a white horse, a rope tied around his body, pinning his arms to his sides. He was wearing his normal dented and scratched armor, his familiar bright yellow smock peeking out at the neckline. Holding the other end of the rope was the strange figure in the green, leafy armor. He sat on a horse that was as black as midnight.

  The sun had finally reached the western horizon and was casting a crimson hue on the scene, giving it an almost magical appearance. Stars began to sparkle overhead as they emerged through the blue veil of the daytime sky.

  “There’s Weaver!” Gameknight exclaimed, pointing at the pair in the distance.

  “Who?” Crafter asked.

  Gameknight ignored the question. “Do any of you know the one in green armor?”

  “I’ve never seen him before,” Hunter said.

  “He has letters like you,” Digger said.

  The big NPC had been hiding in the back of the crowd and had only now come forward. Gameknight instantly noticed there was something different about him; he didn’t stand as tall, or look people in the eye the way he had. It was as if he was afraid of something.

  “What do you mean, ‘He has letters’?” Gameknight asked.

  “He’s a user, like you,” the stocky NPC replied. “His name is floating over his head; it says E … N … T … I … T … Y … 3 …”

  “Entity303,” Gameknight growled. “I’ve heard of him.”

  “But there’s no server thread,” Hunter whispered.

  “What?” the User-that-is-not-a-user asked.

  “I have your friend, Gameknight999,” Entity303 shouted, a scowl painted on his square face. “If you want your little villager here, you’ll have to come take him. But first, you’ll have to catch us … if you can. Ha ha ha ha.”

  The user spun his horse around and rode off into the darkening forest, Weaver in tow.

  “What’s going on?” Crafter asked.

  “That was your great uncle, Weaver,” Gameknight explained.

  “But I told you, I don’t have a great uncle Weaver.”

  “That’s because that user, Entity303, somehow took him from the past and brought him here, into this time. He changed the past, and now the present is different.”

  “What are you going on about?” Stitcher growled.

  “Look, I know it sounds crazy …”

  “It always does,” Stitcher add
ed.

  “Stitcher … shhh,” Hunter chided.

  “Anyway,” Gameknight continued, “I know this sounds crazy, but the last time I came into Minecraft, I was transported into the distant past just after the Awakening, at the beginning of the Great Zombie Invasion. I helped stop Herobrine back then, with the help of your great uncle, Weaver and a bunch of your other ancient relatives. But right at the end of the war, that user, Entity303, somehow kidnapped Weaver, took him out of the past, and brought him here, into the present. I don’t understand how, but that has changed everything in Minecraft.”

  “What do you mean it has changed everything?” Crafter asked.

  “Those super tall trees, they shouldn’t exist,” Gameknight said, pointing at the forest. “And all those different colored leaves … that’s not right either.” And then he pointed at Stitcher.

  “What?” she growled.

  “She’s different too,” he said. “There’s too much violence in her. The Stitcher I know is the kindest and most understanding person in Minecraft.”

  “Well, you might be a little aggressive too, if you’d been held prisoner in a Nether fortress for a year,” she explained.

  “What?” Gameknight asked, then turned to Crafter. “You see, that never happened in my timeline. Stitcher was rescued from the Nether fortress right away in my version of Minecraft. This version is all messed up. Everything is different, and I don’t think different is good. Who knows what kind of damage this Entity303 has done to Minecraft. We have to catch him and save Weaver, now!”

  They stared at him as if he was insane.

  “You know I wouldn’t just make this stuff up,” Gameknight insisted. “Something is wrong and I’m afraid it’s only gonna get worse if we don’t do something about it.”

  Fear boiled up within Gameknight999. He knew he could go off and chase Entity303 on his own, but with everything having changed in Minecraft, who knew what dangers he’d face?