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

by Dr. Block

  Sounds easy enough, I thought. “Also, why only fifteen minutes?” I asked.

  Some of the adult zombies laughed at my question. I heard one whisper to another, “What a noob.” I was embarrassed.

  “Well, Zeke, you’ve never been in a battle, so you don’t realize that fifteen minutes is an eternity,” said Zeb. “Not only does it give the villagers and their golems a chance to fight back and kill us, but the longer we stay, the more likely it is a Player will hear all the commotion and show up.”

  “I see,” I said.

  “Good,” said Zeb. “Any more questions?” Zeb looked around and saw no hands, so he said, “Fine. We attack in five minutes.”

  I looked down at Harold from my position astride his back. “Are you ready for this?”

  “I guess so,” said Harold without much confidence. “I just want to find my friends.”

  “Me too.”

  At that moment, Zeb approached us. “Zeke, Harold. I just got word that this village has an iron golem patrolling its streets.”

  “Is that bad?” I asked.

  Zeb nodded. “Yes, it is. They are very powerful and will attack zombies without mercy.”

  “Oh,” I said, as I got goosebumps of fear on my undead skin.

  “So, what can we do?” asked Harold.

  Zeb got down on one knee and looked us both in the eyes. “I know this is your first raid, but I need you to distract the iron golem. A chicken jockey is fast, so if you can draw his attention away from the rest of the zombies, we should be fine.”

  I got very nervous. My stomach felt upset. I thought I might toss my cookies (even though I’d never eaten a cookie in my life).

  “Okay,” I said. “We will do our best.”

  “Excellent. That’s all anyone can ask,” said Zeb as he stood up and patted my head. Zeb looked around and shouted, “One minute, people!”

  I put my hand on Harold’s neck and stroked it, like you’d stroke a horse. “I’m sorry, buddy. This is crazy.”

  “Yeah, it is. But, we can do it,” Harold clucked confidently.

  Harold’s confidence – even if it was pretend – made me feel better. I was as ready as I ever would be.

  Just then, Zeb yelled, “Attack!”

  Chapter 7

  The zombie horde moved toward the village at a steady pace. Harold and I trotted alongside Zeb.

  As we entered the village itself, Zeb pointed to the left at a large figure looming over the town. “There,” he said. “That is the golem. Distract it!”

  “Got it,” I said, as I turned Harold towards the iron giant.

  As we approached it, it was looking in the distance at the zombie horde and was moving towards it. The golem apparently did not see Harold and me.

  “Harold, it doesn’t see us,” I said in a panic. “We can’t distract it if it doesn’t see us.”

  “Let’s hop up to that roof over to the right,” said Harold. “It should be in the golem’s line of sight.”

  “Good idea,” I replied.

  We turned and started climbing up some steps and then did a sort of chicken jockey parkour, bounding between walls to make it to the top of one roof. Then, we jumped from that roof to a roof directly in front of the golem.

  “Do you think he sees us?” I whispered to Harold.

  But before Harold could respond, the iron golem swung his fist at us. It was a good thing I was on Harold, because he flapped his little square wings twice very hard and we floated just above the golem’s strike.

  “Oh my gosh, Harold. Run!” I shouted.

  Harold ran along the roof as the golem pursued us. My little, cold undead heart was beating a mile a minute as Harold stayed just ahead of the iron golem’s massive fists.

  While Harold ran, I looked to the side and saw the rest of the Zombie horde attacking the village. I saw villagers running inside and closing their doors to get to safety. Part of me hoped all the villagers escaped; this world was so cruel.

  “Harold?” I shouted.

  “What?” he gasped, almost out of breath.

  “Head to the left. Let’s draw the golem to the edge of the village away from the horde.”

  Harold did not say anything in response, but veered rapidly to the left. The iron golem was in hot pursuit.

  Just as I suspected, the iron golem followed us away from the rest of the zombies. My plan was working great. Well, it was working great until Harold ran into a portion of the village where several buildings met. The walls were high, and there was no exit except from where we had come.

  We were trapped!

  “What do we do?” clucked Harold.

  I looked all around. I could not see any stairs or ladders or even a door. The only way out was back the way we came. And that route was now blocked by a massive iron golem who was rapidly approaching us.

  “Harold, we have to split up.”

  “No,” said Harold. “We are friends. I don’t want to lose you like I lost my other friends.” I saw a tear in his square eye.

  “It will work,” I said, dismounting. “Look, you fly up there, out of the golem’s range. I’ll figure out some way to escape.”

  “I don’t know. Golems can be pretty tough,” said Harold.

  The iron golem was almost within range to strike. “No time to argue, Harold. Go!”

  Harold flew up to the top of the wall. I saw the golem’s eyes track him for a moment, but when it realized he was only a chicken, the golem returned its gaze to me.

  Well, Zeb, I hope you were right about how fast I am, I thought.

  I stood right in front of the golem. I watched as he approached me and then began to swing his fist at me. At that moment, I ran right between his legs. The golem’s fist slammed into the ground, leaving a deep crater.

  I stood behind the golem and watched as he turned around. He grunted and rushed towards me. I waited until the last minute and then ran to the side, and the iron golem smashed into the wall, demolishing a wide section of it.

  Now, the golem was really angry. He stood up and spotted me. He rushed at me with a speed I did not think was possible. The exit to the area was now unblocked, so I ran through it.

  The golem followed me and was actually gaining on me. I needed to think of something fast, or I was going to end up as a flat pancake of rotten flesh.

  I ran and ran. Not knowing where I was going. Then, I saw Harold up ahead. He must have flown there.

  Harold put a wing next to his beak and yelled, “Follow me!”

  There was no time to think, so I followed him. And, of course, the iron golem followed me.

  Harold led me through streets and alleys. There were so many twists and turns, it felt like a labyrinth. I hoped Harold knew what he was doing. After one more turn, we were running along a block wall with a steep drop behind it. It looked like it was five hundred feet straight down.

  The iron golem was running along the wall, trying to get us.

  “Stand still,” shouted Harold.

  “What? No way,” I said.

  “I have a plan. Trust me,” said Harold.

  I guess I had no choice but to trust him. He came back for me, and if he hadn’t, I’d probably already be dead. So, I stopped, and Harold stopped next to me.

  The golem was only a few steps away. When it arrived, it stood directly in front of me and Harold. This is it, I thought.

  I looked at Harold and said, “So, what’s this great plan of yours?”

  “When I say so, jump off the wall,” said Harold.

  “Are you crazy!” I said. “I’ll die.”

  “Trust me.”

  This was insane. Harold wanted me to jump off a 500-foot cliff to my death. Seeing as how the only other option was getting crushed by an iron golem, I supposed I might as well try my luck.

  It was then that the iron golem rushed toward us. He raised both fists over his head, preparing to deliver a crushing blow. He was just about to strike when Harold yelled, “Now!”

  We both jumpe
d off the cliff. As I fell to my doom, I saw the iron golem’s fists smash the wall, and then his momentum pushed him over the cliff. The golem reached back and tried to grab on to something to prevent his fall, but he could not. He tumbled over the cliff just behind us.

  I watched as Harold flapped his wings and began flying away from me. Was he leaving me? I looked up and saw the iron golem falling just in front of me. I guess he’ll crush me after all, but at least I’ll be dead first.

  As I waited to hit the ground, I suddenly felt something soft under my legs. I looked down and saw two chickens struggling to stop my fall. Harold’s friends! Then, another pair of chickens arrived to get under my arms.

  The four chickens were enough to stop my fall and fly me back to the village. I watched as the iron golem continued to fall and then smashed into the ground. The golem was dead. All that remained of him were four iron ingots and a flower.

  When we got back up to solid ground, the chickens stood back from me.

  Harold approached with a big smile spreading across his face. “I told you to trust me.”

  I nodded, still shaking from my near-death experience. “Yeah, you were right,” I said. I pointed to the other chickens. “These must be your friends.”

  “Yes, they are,” said Harold. “When we got separated, I heard them clucking and rescued them. It was easy since the villagers were distracted by the zombie attack.”

  “Good,” I said.

  “After I freed them, I heard the golem trying to kill you, and we came up with this plan,” Harold said.

  I looked at the four chickens. “Thank you,” I said.

  “No, thank you for bringing Harold to save us,” they said.

  “Do you guys want to hang out with my zombie horde?” I asked.

  “No, we just want to wander around and peck the ground,” they said.

  “Oh.” I looked at Harold. “Does this mean you will go with them?”

  Harold scratched the ground with one of his claws. “I thought about it,” he said. “But, I think we make a great team. So, I’ll stay with you.”

  I smiled. “Awesome!”

  Chapter 8

  We all got back to the cave about thirty minutes before sunrise. Two adult zombies had been killed during the attack on the village, which Zeb told me was a typical loss.

  “Why do you attack villages if you know zombies will die?” I asked Zeb.

  “It is what we do. And how we get food,” said Zeb.

  I frowned. “That seems stupid.”

  “It is what the great god Notch wants. We cannot question our destiny,” he said.

  “Why would the god Notch make zombies undead and eat people?” I asked.

  Zeb shrugged. “I do not question the rules.”

  His answer was not really an answer, but a way of avoiding the question.

  “Here,” Zeb continued. “Take these.” Zeb handed me a baby-sized suit of armor and an iron sword. “You will need these to protect yourself in this world.”

  “Wow,” I said taking the sword and armor. “Thanks.”

  “Try it on and see if it fits,” Zeb said.

  I slipped the iron armor on, and it fit well, though felt very heavy. I stood there with my sword and slashed it back and forth. It felt awesome.

  “Looking good, kid,” said Zeb.

  Just then, my stomach grumbled, and I realized I was hungry. Zeb heard it too.

  “Want some of this villager flesh?” he offered, shoving a nasty pile of goo my way.

  My stomach said yes, but my mouth said, “No. I don’t want to eat villagers. Do you have any beef or mutton?”

  “I don’t,” said Zeb. “But someone else might. Let me check and I’ll get back to you.”

  “Thanks,” I said as Zeb walked away.

  I looked over at Harold who was sitting next to me. He had his head pulled in and tucked against his body like chickens do.

  “Thanks, again, for saving my life back there, man,” I said.

  Harold nodded. “Sure. And, by the way, your zombie pals better not have any chicken flesh.”

  “I’m sure they don’t,” I said quickly, but I really wasn’t sure at all. Zombies will eat just about anything, living or dead, as long as it isn’t a fruit or vegetable.

  Zeb returned with a hunk of beef and a small bag. “Here,” he said, tossing the beef to me. I tore into it with my little teeth. It was delicious.

  Zeb knelt down and handed the bag to Harold. “One of the others thought you would be hungry after the raid and grabbed a little bag of grain for you.”

  Harold stood up. “Wow! Thank you,” he said. “I didn’t know … well … I didn’t know zombies were so thoughtful.”

  Zeb smiled. “Only some of us are.”

  Zeb left Harold and me alone while we ate. When we and all the rest of the zombies had eaten our fill, the first rays of sunlight could be seen outside the cave. Everyone settled in for sleep.

  I yawned and looked over at Harold. “Well, I’m going to sleep. You can go outside if you want.”

  Harold shook his head. “No, I’m pretty tired after all that excitement. I’ll sleep here. Besides, I probably need to start sleeping more during the day if we are going to be friends.”

  “You know I can survive in the sunlight, right?” I asked.

  “Yes, but you are with a zombie horde, and they’ll be doing things at night, so …”

  “I get it,” I said. “Good night or should I say, good morning, Harold.”

  “Good morning, Zeke.”

  Chapter 9

  I must have slept for a few hours when I heard the noise. It sounded like a stick breaking. Then I heard another one.

  I sat bolt upright. Zeb had told me earlier that the zombies put small sticks near the entrance to the cave to alert them to intruders who might try to sneak up on them during the day.

  I looked around and saw that a few other zombies, including Zeb, were also sitting up. I peered toward the entrance to the cave and saw a shape moving slowly towards us.

  I nudged Harold with my arm until he began to wake up. “Harold,” I whispered. “Something is coming into the cave.”

  “What? Who?” asked Harold groggily.

  “I don’t know yet,” I said quietly. “Just be ready to fight … or run.”

  I kept my eyes focused on the shape moving toward us. It was about the size of a villager and moved like one. I couldn’t tell what it was yet.

  I soon noticed that another shape was moving alongside it. It was an animal of some sort. I could not tell exactly what, though I was beginning to suspect it was a wolf.

  Finally, I noticed that the shape coming toward us was holding a sword. Oh my gosh, I thought, it’s a ….

  “Player!” yelled Zeb. “Wake up and fight! A Player is coming!”

  All of the zombies jumped up as fast as they could – which is not really that fast – and started running toward the Player. They had no choice but to stand and fight since going outside would have killed them.

  I quickly pulled on my armor and grabbed my sword.

  “Get on,” yelled Harold.

  I jumped on Harold’s back and we headed toward the Player.

  The first zombies had surrounded the Player and were attacking him and his wolf. The Player and the wolf fought back. I saw two zombies killed in the initial seconds, reduced to nothing more than tiny piles of rotting flesh.

  Harold and I went toward the melee, but kept our distance, still a bit unsure of ourselves in a fight.

  The brave zombies continued to attack the Player. He and his wolf fought back, even as they sustained massive injuries.

  Then, the Player saw me and yelled, “OMG, a chicken jockey. I’m coming for you.”

  The Player started slashing wildly at the attacking zombies, killing four of them in a few blows. There was a crazed look in his eyes as he tried to cut a path to me.

  I could have stood and fought. Maybe I should have. But, I saw that there were more zombies behind
the Player than between him and me.

  “Harold,” I yelled. “Head for the exit of the cave. The Player will be trapped.”

  Harold rushed around the pack of zombies, avoiding the Player, and headed for the entrance to the cave.

  As we ran by the horde, we saw the tamed wolf die, as it wailed a pathetic howl. The zombies would eat its flesh later, but now they still had the Player to kill.

  When his wolf died, the Player screamed, “No! Wolfie! Why?”

  In that instant of grief, the zombies converged on him as Harold and I watched from the entrance to the cave. The Player managed to kill one more zombie before he was overwhelmed and eaten.

  “Yeah,” I yelled. We were safe.

  Chapter 10

  A few minutes passed as everyone regained their breath and gave thanks for still being alive … well, still being undead. Then, Zeb came over and handed me a shovel.

  Zeb said tersely, “Dig a hole for the dead zombies. Over there. In the corner.”

  I took the shovel without saying anything and went to the corner. Harold followed me. I started digging.

  “I thought we were gonners,” said Harold.

  “Yeah,” I said sadly as I pushed the shovel into the ground with one foot. “That was intense.”

  “You zombies have it almost as bad as us chickens,” said Harold. “Everyone wants to kill both of us, but at least they don’t want to eat you.”

  “I bet there are some freaks out there who would eat zombie flesh,” I said.

  Harold tilted his chicken head to the side, considering this idea. “Well, I sure wouldn’t. I’d rather starve to death. Uhhh, no offense.”

  I laughed. “None taken, bro.”

  It took me about ten minutes to dig a hole deep enough for remaining piles of zombie flesh. During that time, I watched as the other zombies gathered in a distant part of the cave. They were discussing something, but I could not hear what it was.

  When I was done with the hole, I sat down next to it with Harold. We were waiting for someone to tell us what to do next. We did not have any experience with burials.