37
Some material in this chapter may be disturbing to some children. We do not endorse experiments nor desecration of the dead.
For a full sun and moon rotation we rolled over the ocean, buffeting along in a rickety mine cart.
Grace gazed wistfully at the sea, staring at the stars.
I wondered if she missed her family. I certainly did. It wasn’t easy being alone.
Up ahead, I noticed something.
The villagers had told us the dead had infested the sea, but neither of us had thought about it until now.
It was a blue man, seaweed mopping its face. It held a trident, ready to launch.
Hastily, I notched an arrow. The drowned thing fell into the sea.
We saw hands touching the rails, trying to pull themselves up.
*
The next night, Grace and I both had decided would be our last.
We traveled over land now, vast pine forests and plains, the air growing crisp.
Dead things watched from the sky, restless, waiting to strike.
“Pay no notice to the phantoms,” warned Grace.
“We need sleep.” I said.
“At break of dawn.”
Luckily for us, when we clambered out of our carts, there was a huge village.
“We find some beds here, stock up on food, and then be back on our way.” She said.
“Judging by the map,” Grace said, “we’ll be there in less than a day by minecart.”
Grace went for the door of the nearest building, only, there wasn’t one.
“Hello?” She called into the darkness.
Something groaned.
Grace stabbed it, cutting rotten flesh from it.
“It’s a villager,” Grace said, “not a man.”
Who cares, I thought, run!
The zombies came forth, aroused by our smell.
Tripping over myself, we ran into the wilderness.
Grace pushed a mossy boulder into their path, but that didn’t stop them.
“They’re not burning in daylight,” I muttered.
We saw the trees ending ahead, where the snowy tundra began.
There was a lone house.
The monsters were at our back now, moaning.
We’d make our stand at the igloo.
Grace ripped the down open, and slammed it shut.
“There’s a basement,” I said, “a trapdoor.”
“We’ll rest in there.”
We clambered down the ladder, into a well lit room.
It was made of stone, with a chest, a pot with a cactus, and some sort of stand.
In front of me were the cells.
A starved villager stared mournfully at us.
A zombie groaned to its left.
“What… what have we stumbled onto…”
The villager’s eyes bulged. It made a squeak. I sensed it was trying to speak.
“Put it out of its misery,” Grace said.
We did, and the zombie, too.
In the chest we found some bottles, and a glowing golden apple.
Climbing back up the ladder, the two of us were deeply disturbed.
The zombies stood outside the door.
More had joined their number, skeletons with tattered clothing, creepers and spiders.
“What are we going to do?” I asked.
“This,” Grace said, gripping the apple, “is magic, I can feel it.”
Chomping it down, she glowed. Grace, as she explained later, felt like she could never die.
Charging outside, she slaughtered the monsters, clearing a path for me.
We ran into the tundra, for safety, arrows at our backs.
For a full sun and moon rotation we rolled over the ocean, buffeting along in a rickety mine cart.
Grace gazed wistfully at the sea, staring at the stars.
I wondered if she missed her family. I certainly did. It wasn’t easy being alone.
Up ahead, I noticed something.
The villagers had told us the dead had infested the sea, but neither of us had thought about it until now.
It was a blue man, seaweed mopping its face. It held a trident, ready to launch.
Hastily, I notched an arrow. The drowned thing fell into the sea.
We saw hands touching the rails, trying to pull themselves up.
*
The next night, Grace and I both had decided would be our last.
We traveled over land now, vast pine forests and plains, the air growing crisp.
Dead things watched from the sky, restless, waiting to strike.
“Pay no notice to the phantoms,” warned Grace.
“We need sleep.” I said.
“At break of dawn.”
Luckily for us, when we clambered out of our carts, there was a huge village.
“We find some beds here, stock up on food, and then be back on our way.” She said.
“Judging by the map,” Grace said, “we’ll be there in less than a day by minecart.”
Grace went for the door of the nearest building, only, there wasn’t one.
“Hello?” She called into the darkness.
Something groaned.
Grace stabbed it, cutting rotten flesh from it.
“It’s a villager,” Grace said, “not a man.”
Who cares, I thought, run!
The zombies came forth, aroused by our smell.
Tripping over myself, we ran into the wilderness.
Grace pushed a mossy boulder into their path, but that didn’t stop them.
“They’re not burning in daylight,” I muttered.
We saw the trees ending ahead, where the snowy tundra began.
There was a lone house.
The monsters were at our back now, moaning.
We’d make our stand at the igloo.
Grace ripped the down open, and slammed it shut.
“There’s a basement,” I said, “a trapdoor.”
“We’ll rest in there.”
We clambered down the ladder, into a well lit room.
It was made of stone, with a chest, a pot with a cactus, and some sort of stand.
In front of me were the cells.
A starved villager stared mournfully at us.
A zombie groaned to its left.
“What… what have we stumbled onto…”
The villager’s eyes bulged. It made a squeak. I sensed it was trying to speak.
“Put it out of its misery,” Grace said.
We did, and the zombie, too.
In the chest we found some bottles, and a glowing golden apple.
Climbing back up the ladder, the two of us were deeply disturbed.
The zombies stood outside the door.
More had joined their number, skeletons with tattered clothing, creepers and spiders.
“What are we going to do?” I asked.
“This,” Grace said, gripping the apple, “is magic, I can feel it.”
Chomping it down, she glowed. Grace, as she explained later, felt like she could never die.
Charging outside, she slaughtered the monsters, clearing a path for me.
We ran into the tundra, for safety, arrows at our backs.
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