The Great Zombie Invasion

by Mark Cheverton

  “It must be hiding somewhere in the shadow of a big oak or maybe in the mouth of a cave,” Gameknight said to himself.

  “Oink … oink.”

  The sound came from directly behind him. Gameknight stopped and turned, drawing his stone sword in a smooth fluid movement. Before him stood a pig, its dark eyes looking up at him.

  “Go away,” Gameknight said. “Shoo.”

  “Oink,” the creature replied, then moved forward and nuzzled its flat stubby snout against Gameknight’s leg.

  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  The pig remained silent, its innocent eyes gazing up at him.

  Gameknight glanced down at his sword, then moved his eyes to the pig. He could feel his hunger increasing and knew it would get worse, but he still had those two apples.

  Having some pork wouldn’t be terrible, Gameknight thought.

  He raised his sword a little higher.

  “Oink,” the creature said again, then rubbed its chubby side against him like a cat caressing its favorite master.

  “You have no fear, do you?” Gameknight said to the animal.

  The creature blinked, but remained silent.

  Gameknight lowered his sword, then reached out and patted the animal on the head. Its skin was soft, with the thinnest layer of white fuzz that almost went unnoticed until you touched it.

  “I can’t kill you,” Gameknight said. “You are too innocent and harmless and trusting. I’ll just do something else if I get hungry.”

  “Oink.”

  “Yeah … oink,” Gameknight replied. “I think I will call you … ahh … how about Wilbur? That’s the name of the pig in one of my favorite books. Do you like that name, Wilbur?”

  “Oink, oink.”

  “OK then, it’s settled. You will be Wilbur … welcome to the team.”

  “Oink.”

  “That’s right,” he replied with a smile. “Come on, we need to get to Crafter’s village. I’m afraid something funny is going on, and I’d feel safer behind some nice, tall cobblestone walls. Let’s go, boy.”

  Gameknight took off running with Wilbur following right behind. The animal seemed to be some kid of super-pig, because it had no problem staying right on his heels as he ran. If he sprinted, the pig would fall behind some, but when Gameknight slowed to rest, Wilbur would always catch up.

  A sorrowful moan filled the air again as the stink of decaying flesh assaulted his senses. Gameknight999 skidded to a halt, just as a zombie stepped out from behind a thick oak tree. The decaying monster reached out with a green hand, its razor-sharp claws glistening, reflecting light into his eyes.

  Gameknight ducked as the tiny daggers whizzed over his head. Drawing his sword, he slashed at the monster, catching a leg with his stone weapon. The monster growled then stepped forward, moving toward him rather than backing up. Gameknight stepped backward in response, while at the same time bringing up his blade to block another attack. The monster’s claws dug into the stone blade, scratching the side, while the other clawed hand came down on Gameknight’s exposed side. But just before the monster made contact, Wilbur stepped forward and bit down on the monster’s leg. Screaming, the zombie kicked the pig away. Wilbur squealed in pain and retreated.

  “Oh no you didn’t!” Gameknight yelled.

  Stepping forward, he kicked the zombie in the stomach, pushing the creature backward. His sword then became a blur as he attacked with a fury.

  “No one hurts Wilbur!” he screamed.

  He brought his blade down upon the monster with a vengeance, hitting it in every vulnerable spot. The zombie flashed red over and over as Gameknight’s sword found its target again and again. He attacked from the left, then from the right. Bringing his sword down in one mighty swing, he finally landed the lethal blow that took the last of the monster’s health points (HP). With a look of shock and fear on the creature’s face, the zombie disappeared with a pop, leaving behind a piece of zombie flesh and three glowing balls of experience points (XP). The tiny spheres glowed as they shifted through different colors, while the zombie flesh floated just off the ground, bobbing up and down harmlessly.

  Gameknight stepped forward and let the XP flow into his body, increasing his own experience. When he had enough XP, maybe he’d enchant a weapon or add some magical protection to some armor. Of course, he would need some actual armor to do that …

  “Oink, oink,” Wilbur sounded.

  Gameknight looked down and petted the animal on the head.

  “You OK, boy?” he asked.

  “Oink.”

  “Thank you for being so brave and helping,” Gameknight said. “I didn’t expect to come across a zombie out here. The sun is still high in the air. If that monster had stepped into the sunlight, it would have burst into flame.”

  But then he thought about the battle.

  Didn’t the claws sparkle as if they were reflecting the sunlight? Gameknight thought. How can that be? The monster would have burned.

  “But how did it even get into the forest?” Gameknight said aloud.

  “Oink.”

  “Right … there are no caves nearby,” he said to himself, though it was almost like he was having a conversation with Wilbur. “It would need to have crossed a great distance to get to that forest. For a zombie, that’s a long journey that likely could not have been completed during the night. It would have seen some sunlight. So how can that be?”

  “Oink.”

  “Yeah, it bothers me too. Come on, we need to get to the village, fast. I need to talk about this with Crafter.”

  Gameknight gripped his sword firmly in his hand and started to run, Wilbur scurrying along at his side. They wove their way through the rest of the forest as the sun continued its trek toward the western horizon. He knew they had to make it to the village before nightfall, because the monsters of Minecraft ruled the night. In the distance he could see the edge of the forest, a grassy plain extending beyond, the thick grass waving in the constant breeze.

  The companions sprinted across the flat grassland, Wilbur working hard to stay at Gameknight999’s side. After pausing a few times to rest, they finally came to the large hill that Gameknight knew would look down upon their destination. When they crested the obstacle, Gameknight stopped to gaze upon the NPC (non-playable character) village that sat in the distance.

  “What’s this?” Gameknight asked in surprise. “This isn’t the village I remember. Where’s the cobblestone wall, and the moat, and the archer towers? There isn’t even a tall watchtower at the center so they can be on the lookout for monsters!”

  He stared down at the scene, totally confused and a little scared. Before him sat an NPC village that consisted of a handful of wooden buildings built around a central well. Gravel pathways connected the buildings, blades of grass peeking through here and there. A handful of villagers walked to and fro with tools or items held in their hands. They moved either individually or in pairs between the buildings, sometimes talking to each other, sometimes silent. Tendrils of smoke drifted upward from the blacksmith’s furnaces like dark, curving snakes. The east-to-west wind dragged the smoke sideways, causing it to dissipate. Farms extended off to the left, and a channel of water sat between rows of wheat and melons. A young villager tended the fields with a hoe in his small hands, turning the soil on a new plot. He was likely getting it ready for planting.

  Across the entire community, Gameknight counted maybe thirty inhabitants scurrying about, many of them going in and out of the dozen structures that were scattered haphazardly about. But the strangest thing was that none of them were armed … why would that be?

  “What’s going on in Minecraft, Wilbur?”

  “Oink … oink.”

  “Yeah, I’m worried too,” he replied.

  As the sun began to kiss the horizon, Gameknight ran down the grassy hill and headed for the village, questions swirling through his head.

  CHAPTER 3

  THE VILLAGE

  The afternoon sun c
ast warm rays of light on the two companions. Long shadows stretched out from the trees and bushes as the square face of the sun approached the horizon; it would be dark soon. They had to be ready, and the village was the best place to stay through the night.

  “Maybe you should stay back here and hide in the grass while I head down to the village,” Gameknight said to Wilbur. “I don’t really know what’s going on, and I would feel better knowing you were safe out here on the plain.”

  “Oink,” the pig replied.

  Wilbur turned and lay on the ground on a patch of thick grass to rest. Gameknight gave him a wink, then turned and headed for the cluster of buildings.

  As he approached the village, a group of NPCs noticed him and ran to the edge of the community to await his arrival, weapons in their hands. Pausing for a moment, Gameknight scanned the grassy plain for the presence of monsters. There were none. The grass was swaying in the gentle breeze as the sound of cattle trickled through the landscape. High overhead, square boxy clouds floated lazily overhead. The area was as peaceful as anyone could hope for.

  Gameknight brought his eyes back to the village. To his surprise, the NPCs had come forward and were now spreading out to surround him, their weapons still held at the ready.

  “What are you doing here?” one of the villagers asked.

  The NPC wore a light brown smock with a white stripe running down the middle. He was a large villager, bigger than most, but not the biggest NPC present. Salt-and-pepper black hair ringed the sides of his square head, while the top remained completely bald. An angry scowl was painted on his face, directed toward Gameknight999.

  “Ahh … I was coming to visit some friends in this village, but something’s wrong,” Gameknight said.

  “Something’s wrong alright,” the NPC growled, then took a step forward, his sword poised for attack.

  “Now Fencer, calm down,” another NPC said.

  Fencer took a step back but held his iron sword at the ready.

  Gameknight turned and faced the speaker. He had a commanding presence about him, and clearly all the villagers deferred to him as their leader. Across his head was a thick mop of black hair, the strands all tangled and disheveled, with what looked like grey ash scattered throughout. He wore a dark brown smock with a black stripe running down the center and a black apron over that. Instantly, Gameknight knew this to be the villager’s blacksmith.

  “Thank you,” Gameknight said. “As I said, I was expecting to find my friends’ village here, but it’s all different.”

  “This is our village, and we don’t allow outsiders in,” Fencer said with an angry tone.

  “What … you turn away people from the safety of your village?” Gameknight asked. “Even at night?”

  The User-that-is-not-a-user was stunned. One of the fundamental principles for villagers was to always help other NPCs. What’s happening here? Gameknight wondered.

  “Why?”

  “We had a stranger come to our village recently,” the blacksmith said. “But he brought with him vicious monsters. I’m sure you know that zombies, skeletons, spiders, and creepers are our enemies. They’ve attacked our villages for as long as … umm … we remember.”

  The villagers glanced at each other as if there were some secret between them all.

  “Smithy, let’s just chase this stranger away,” Fencer said again. “He can’t be trusted.”

  “Smithy?!” Gameknight exclaimed. “You’re Smithy … the Smithy?”

  A myriad of thoughts shot through his mind as he considered the ramifications of this information. Smithy … the famous Smithy from the Great Zombie Invasion was standing right in front of him. It wasn’t possible.

  “How can this be?” Gameknight mumbled as he stared in amazement at the dark-haired NPC.

  “What’s wrong?” Smithy asked. “Haven’t you ever seen a blacksmith before?”

  “Well … ahh … yes, of course,” Gameknight stammered. “But I mean … well … it’s you. How can that be?”

  “What are you talking about?” another villager asked.

  This one was wearing a grass-green smock with a light-brown stripe running down the center. He was taller than Gameknight and looked down at him, a confused look on his face. The golden strands of long, sandy-blond hair falling across his face reminded Gameknight of his friend Herder. I miss my friends, Gameknight suddenly realized

  “Well, I’ve heard of the great Smithy,” he replied. “He is a bit of a legend where I come from.”

  “Planter is right, what are you talking about?” Fencer asked. “You talk like you’re from somewhere completely different than our village. Who are you and where are you from?”

  “And why is your nose so small?” Planter asked.

  “Well,” Gameknight started, shifting nervously from his left foot to his right. “I’m Gameknight999 and I’m a user … umm … sorta.”

  “Gameknight999, what kind of stupid name is that?” Fencer asked. “What’s your job? Where is your village?”

  “I don’t have a village, I’m a user. That’s why my nose is different. I’m not a villager, I’m a real person playing the game.”

  “A what-er? What are you talking about?” one of the other villagers asked. By the look of his clothing, he was likely a woodcarver.

  “Minecraft is a computer game that was made by the famous programmer, Notch,” Gameknight explained slowly, thinking maybe it would be best to start at the beginning. “He constructed all of you to be part of the game, so that users had non-playable characters with which to interact.”

  “You’re saying that we’re all just computer programs?” Fencer asked.

  “Originally, but then something happened to bring you all to life,” Gameknight said. “I can tell you are all alive and probably have memories and families and hopes and dreams. I’m Gameknight999. I’m a user, but not really a user because there’s no server thread connecting me to the servers.”

  The villagers stared at him as if he were insane.

  “Do you see a thin line of light extending up from my head?” Gameknight asked.

  “Of course not,” Fencer replied, his tone getting angrier. Gameknight could tell he was getting impatient.

  “That’s because I am a user, but I am not connected to the server,” he explained. “I am a user, but I am not a user. My name is Gameknight999, the User-that-is-not-a-user, protector of Minecraft.”

  The villagers remained completely silent as they stared at him, disbelief in their dark, square eyes.

  “User-that-is—what?” Fencer said. “That’s kind of a dumb name, don’t you think?”

  Gameknight cast an angry glare at the NPC, who returned it in kind.

  “Just call me Gameknight999.”

  Fencer laughed, then turned and glanced toward the blacksmith. Suddenly, they all noticed their shadows growing longer; dusk was coming.

  “It’s getting late, and I could use a place to stay for the night,” Gameknight said, somewhat impatiently. “So how about letting me into your village?”

  The villagers moved closer so that they were shoulder to shoulder. The keen edges of their blades gleamed bright in the waning sunlight. He felt the urge to reach for his own blade, but that could be a deadly mistake.

  “No strangers in the village,” barked Fencer. “That is how the community voted after that last one came in with all those monsters.”

  Gameknight stared at Smithy, but the NPC shifted his gaze to the ground.

  “That was the vote, and that’s how it’s going to be,” Fencer added.

  Then the villager circle opened and the NPCs moved to create a straight line of warriors, all of them facing Gameknight999, with the dark-haired blacksmith standing at the center.

  “You are not welcome in our village. Now go!” Fencer shouted.

  Gameknight was stunned. Villagers turning away someone in need … strange things were definitely going on. With a sigh, he reached into his inventory and pulled out a tool. The villager
s tensed, ready for battle, but when they saw he had shovel in his hands, they relaxed a bit. He then turned and headed for the edge of the forest, leaving the village and its defenders behind.

  He walked maybe a dozen paces, then glanced over his shoulder. The villagers had returned to their community, with the exception of Smithy, who still stood there watching Gameknight walk away, a sad look on his face. The User-that-is-not-a-user raised his hand and waved, then gave the NPC a smile. Smithy waved back, then turned and headed back into the village.

  “Oink.”

  A sound came from some tall grass. Looking down, Gameknight saw a pink snout pointing up at him.

  “That’s as good a place as any other,” he said to Wilbur and started to dig.

  He shoveled away the dirt until he hit stone. With his pickaxe, he dug into the stone, turning the gray blocks into cobblestone. As he dug, it grew darker, the light from the afternoon sun having a hard time reaching him in the underground tunnel. Thankfully, Gameknight found a couple blocks of coal ore. Once he had the coal in his inventory, the User-that-is-not-a-user dug out a square chamber that was three blocks wide by two blocks high. In one corner, he put his crafting bench and quickly made some torches. With one of the burning sticks placed on a wall, his tiny hidey-hole was filled with a warm, yellow glow. Gameknight breathed a sigh of relief. Darkness had a way of hiding threats in Minecraft; the torches helped him relax.

  Quickly, he crafted three more stone pickaxes, then ran up the steps and sealed the tunnel with a block of dirt so no monsters would be able to get in. He then turned his attention downward. He knew he needed better materials. A stone sword would not be sufficient; he needed an iron one. In addition, Gameknight knew he would feel more comfortable if he had a thick coating of metal around his body, and iron armor would do just the trick. But for that, he would need many blocks of iron.

  “You ready to do some mining, Wilbur?” Gameknight asked the pig.

  “Oink, oink,” his friend replied.

  Pulling out a block of dirt, he placed it on the ground and sat with a sigh. He was still stunned; villagers turning away someone in need … and it was almost night, no less. It was unthinkable. Gameknight looked down at Wilbur and sighed. He missed his friends and felt totally alone. Being a part of a community was important to Gameknight999; it gave him a sense of belonging and purpose, and here, in this strange version of Minecraft, he felt excluded.