Mob squad, p.1
Mob Squad, page 1
Minecraft: Mob Squad: Don’t Fear the Creeper 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 by 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 9780593355817
International ISBN 9780593597712
Ebook ISBN 9780593355824
Illustration: M. S. Corley
randomhousebooks.com
Book design by Elizabeth A. D. Eno, adapted for ebook
Cover art and design: M. S. Corley
ep_prh_6.0_141658921_c0_r0
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Chapter 1: Elder Stu
Chapter 2: Lenna
Chapter 3: Mal
Chapter 4: Tok
Chapter 5: Chug
Chapter 6: Jarro
Chapter 7: Lenna
Chapter 8: Mal
Chapter 9: Tok
Chapter 10: Chug
Chapter 11: Jarro
Chapter 12: Lenna
Chapter 13: Mal
Chapter 14: Tok
Chapter 15: Chug
Chapter 16: Jarro
Chapter 17: Lenna
Chapter 18: Mal
Chapter 19: Tok
Chapter 20: Chug
Chapter 21: Jarro
Chapter 22: Lenna
Chapter 23: Mal
Chapter 24: Tok
Chapter 25: Chug
Chapter 26: Jarro
Chapter 27: Lenna
Chapter 28: Mal
Epilogue: Tok
Epilogue 2: Chug
Epilogue 3: Jarro
Illustration
Dedication
By Delilah S. Dawson
About the Author
So here’s what you need to know: My name is Stu, I’m the Eldest Elder and the second oldest person in the town of Cornucopia, and YOU NEED TO STAY INSIDE THE TOWN WALL.
D’you hear me, kid? DON’T EVER GO OUT INTO THE OVERWORLD.
The town Founders built Cornucopia for a reason. It’s scary out there. Real dangerous. There are terrifying monsters and bloodthirsty animals and strangers who do not have your best interests at heart.
Sure, there might be good scenery and interesting people and untold riches beyond the wall. Forests and seas and emeralds and axolotls, whatever they are. And yes, some people might tell you that the fine folks of Cornucopia are all descended from grand adventurers and that we all hold the potential for bravery, valor, discovery, and creativity, blah blah blah.
Poppycock, if you ask me.
Utter nonsense.
Stay within the wall, child. We have everything you need.
Don’t go out there.
You never know what you’ll find.
It might be your own doom.
Now get out of my shop. Out you go. Children are noisy and annoying. That’s why I never had any of my own. I like my life like I like my town: quiet, calm, and boring.
Before you leave, would you like to buy a hoe? Potato farming—that’s the way to go. Just rows of potatoes as far as the eye can see. Potatoes for dinner every night. A nice, solid potato never did anyone any harm.
You don’t need a sword or armor. You don’t need one of those newfangled horses.
You just need to settle down inside the wall with your potatoes and wait for old age to claim you.
Mark my words—the Overworld is the last place you want to be.
The wall is your friend.
So here’s what you should know: My name is Lenna, I’m the apprentice of the oldest and weirdest person in town, and you shouldn’t listen to a single thing Elder Stu says. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about. He’s never once been outside the wall around Cornucopia, even though there’s currently a great big opening in it so that our people can come and go freely.
Or—well, kind of freely.
They still don’t like it when me and my friends go out into the Overworld.
Even though we were the first people in our town to venture beyond the wall in four generations, and even though we’ve saved the town—twice!—Stu and the other Elders still think we’re up to no good.
Of course, we’re used to people in the town treating us differently. They used to call us the Bad Apples, and some people still do. We’re not as normal as they’d like us to be.
Like I said, I’m apprenticed to the oldest, weirdest person in town, my friend Mal’s great-great-great-grandmother Nan. She keeps the lore, and we’re creating a library for everyone to use, so they can learn about our history and the world beyond the wall—the biomes and flora and fauna that we don’t have around here. Nan also taught me how to shoot my bow and arrows, how to craft a few things, and how to bake her famous cookies. Maybe more important, she taught me that there’s nothing wrong with being different. My family made fun of me all the time for getting lost in daydreams and being, as they said, a bit loony, but Nan tells me it’s a gift. I’m starting to believe her.
My pockets are stuffed with cookies as I head through downtown and past the Hub, which is the very center of Cornucopia. Most of the Elders and more traditional families live here, where the old houses are tall and skinny and jumbled together, but my friends and I have all chosen to settle down a bit farther out. I live in a little cottage by Nan’s house in the forest farthest from the middle of town, right up against the wall. Nan’s great-great-great-granddaughter Mal lives with her parents on a cow farm out where the houses have some space to breathe and room to farm. Chug and his brother Tok now live behind their store in New Cornucopia, which is a recent settlement just outside the wall. And Jarro, who used to be our bully but has become our buddy, set up shop right beside them to raise horses and llamas and rent them out to travelers.
I’m on my way to have breakfast with my friends. Actually, it’s halfway between breakfast and lunch, which Chug has decided to call lunfast. He loves naming things, but he’s not particularly good at it, which is why his pet pig is named Thingy. My own pet, a tamed wolf named Poppy, jogs beside me, tongue out and tail wagging. She loves lunfast, too, because she can play with Thingy and also Tok’s cats, Candor and Clarity.
I used to fear the Hub, because Jarro and his minions Edd and Remy would always pop up to bully me, but now Jarro is on my side and Edd and Remy have been deemed old enough to go to work. They both found jobs in my family’s mine, and they’re welcome to each other. I always knew they were dumb as rocks, and now they can spend all day with their kind. It’s a relief, walking through town with only a few dirty looks and no rotten beetroots slamming into my back.
Mal is waiting for me in front of her house, sitting on the fence and scratching her favorite cow, Connor, behind the ears. He moos happily, and I present him with a sheaf of wheat I plucked from an overgrown pasture along the way.
“You brought more than wheat, right?” Mal asks, jumping off the fence and joining me on the road.
“I’ve got a pocket, got a pocket full of cookies,” I sing. She fist-bumps me, which is nice. My friends know I don’t generally like being touched. This is our compromise.
It’s not too far from Mal’s farm to the wall, and she tells me about all the ores and gemstones she’s discovered in the small mine she’s digging out behind the cow pasture. It’s funny how I was born to a mining family but hate it, and she discovered mining out in the Overworld and realized she loved it. Maybe things would’ve been different if I was an only child working with cows all day instead of the youngest of ten very serious kids raised by very serious parents in a very serious mine, but I guess we’ll never know. I’m just glad I found Nan and she saw my potential. I’m happy now, and so is Mal, and when the boys see how many cookies I brought them, they’ll be happy, too.
The door in the wall comes into view, and my spirits sink as I recognize the people blocking us from leaving town.
“Oh no,” I mutter.
Mal looks ahead and sighs.
My oldest brother, Lars, steps into our path.
“Names, please,” he says. He puts away his sword and pulls out a book.
Mal and I look at each other.
“Names?” she asks, because she’s a lot braver than I am, especially in front of my family. I’d rather face a hundred zombies than my older sister Letti, and Lars is only a year younger than her and not a bit more understanding.
Lars puffs up his chest. “Names. The Elders have decreed that we must keep track of who enters and leaves the town at all times. So give us your names.”
He’s in full iron armor—which my friend Tok made—with his sword hanging at his side. Wh oever gave Lars a weapon clearly wasn’t thinking straight.
“You know who we are,” Mal says. “You two are siblings. And we’re third cousins.”
The other guard swings around and glares at us. It’s Jami, one of the town’s main sheep farmers. I don’t know him super well, as he’s an adult and usually sticks to his farm, but he has definitely called us Bad Apples in the past. He, too, has a sword.
“The Elders don’t want your family tree, kids. They want names. This is a new process, and you’re expected to comply. So just state your names, and we can all go back to our very busy days.”
I look around. There is no one else on the road to or from the wall, not a single living creature visible in the Overworld as far as the eye can see.
“What are you busy doing?” I ask.
“Explaining the rules to rude children,” Jami says through clenched teeth.
Mal and I look at each other, confused, and she shrugs. “I’m Mal. That’s Lenna. Can we go now?”
Lars writes our names in the book, his tongue poking out between his teeth. He was never that great at writing. “Mal and Loony Lenna.” I wince at this old family nickname that he just won’t let me forget. “Okay, then my initials and the date. Destination?”
“Destination?” Mal echoes.
Lars sighs dramatically. “Where are you going? We’re keeping track of comings and goings, so you have to tell us where you’re going.”
“We’re going to have lunfast with Chug, Tok, and Jarro in New Cornucopia. You know, the other part of our town that’s outside of the wall?” Mal says, her face swiftly growing as red as her hair.
Lars writes that down, too. “There, was that so hard? If you would just follow directions, we would’ve been done already.”
“Are we free to go?” Mal asks.
Jami and Lars step back like they’ve been training to move in unison. It’s creepy.
“Be careful out there, citizens,” Jami warns, trying to sound authoritative. “The Overworld is a dangerous place.”
I blink at him. “Have you ever been outside the wall, Jami?”
“That’s neither here nor there!” Jami barks. “I’m a guard entrusted with guarding the wall, and so guard the wall I will.”
“You’d better get out of here before you make him mad,” Lars says with a sneer. “Guards now report to the Elders on a daily basis, and you wouldn’t want to get a demerit.”
“What’s a demerit?”
His sneer twists, and he snickers. “You’ll see.”
Mal and I hurry away toward New Cornucopia, and I can’t stop wrinkling my nose like I smelled something bad.
“What was all that about?” I say. “I can’t believe anyone would willingly give Lars something sharp. He used to drop pickaxes on his toes all the time. That’s why they moved him to the sorting yard outside the mine.”
Mal tugs on her braid as she thinks. “I bet it’s Elder Stu and Elder Gabe. They don’t like the door in the wall, so they’re making it harder to use, maybe.” She shakes her head and glances back. “It used to be one guard in regular clothes, just whoever was available and mainly to welcome visitors, and now it’s two guards in full iron armor with weapons giving orders. We were last out here, what, two days ago? And it wasn’t like this. I wonder what happened to make them change the rule? We need to tell Nan after lunfast.”
“Do you think we should call it brunch instead?”
She rolls her eyes. “Yes, but I’m not telling Chug that. It would break his heart. You know how proud he is of lunfast.”
A mouthwatering feast is waiting for us at a table outside the shop where the brothers sell everything Tok makes with his crafting table and brewing stand. Chug has prepared delicious pies and steaks and potatoes and bread, and Mal has brought a bucket of fresh milk. Jarro walks over, followed by his cat Meowy and an adorably spotted baby horse. I can hear Tok hammering away at his crafting table as usual, but as soon as we sit down Chug shouts, “Tok! Hurry up! It’s lunfast time!”
Tok looks great—all his hair and his eyebrows have grown back after he learned to make proper potions on our last expedition. He’s smiling, his cats and their latest kittens cavorting around his feet.
“So I came up with the perfect name for that baby horse,” Chug says.
“Foal,” Jarro corrects.
“No, that’s a terrible name. I was thinking—are you ready for this? Sir Horsely.”
Jarro is momentarily lost for words, and it’s hard to believe he used to bully all of us around; he’s really kind, now that he’s away from his mom and ex-friends. “No, I mean, a baby horse is called a foal. And his name is Al.”
Chug deflates a little and mutters, “Okay, but the next one is gonna be Sir Horsely, right? Because that’s a great name. I would also accept Lord Wuffles.”
Jarro chokes on his stew, and Chug helpfully thumps him on the back, completely unaware that he’s the cause of Jarro’s current breathing crisis.
“Hey, Lenna,” Tok calls, pulling my attention away from the scene. “Do you know if Nan has any books on redstone?”
“What’s redstone?” I ask, because I grew up in a mine and I’ve never heard of it.
“Sometimes I find these red blocks,” Mal explains. “And they make this weird red dust…”
“And I’ve been experimenting with it.” Tok leans forward, excited, his eyes alight. “It’s kind of like back when I was inventing things but they never worked. There’s some secret to redstone, and I feel so close, but—”
“But at least he’s not still blowing things up,” Chug finishes for him.
I shake my head. “I’ve never seen anything like that in a book, but Nan’s collection is mostly about plants and mobs and biomes, not mining. My folks back at the mine might know more.”
“Gross,” Chug mutters under his breath, and I smile because it feels good to know my friends have my back.
“Yeah, not worth asking them.” Mal looks toward the wall as she chews and frowns. “I can’t believe Lars signed up to guard the wall.”
I sigh. “I can. Some people will do anything to feel important.”
“Hey, remember that time Lars fell face-first in a cow patty?” Chug asks.
“Yeah, because you pushed him.” Tok grins.
“Whoa, that was you? I was always jealous of that. Nice!” Jarro holds out his hand, and he and Chug do an elaborate handshake that ends with a fart sound.
We all laugh, remembering that day, and I never dreamed I could ever be so happy. We eat until we’re all groaning and rubbing our bellies, and Poppy falls asleep in the grass covered in kittens and one mud-splattered pig. When it’s time for Mal to go back home and do her chores, we help clean up the dishes and say our goodbyes and head back toward the wall.
This time, when Lars asks for our names, we just say them and hurry past, eager to be away from his arrogant grin. I’d love to remind him of his time in a cow patty, but I know he would just find some way to punish me—especially now that he thinks he’s tough. As Mal milks the cows, I enjoy the pasture, watching bees and sketching birds for the book I’m writing about flora and fauna. The cows love Mal, but they get fussy when I try to help, because my mind tends to wander and they don’t really like being squeezed that hard by someone who’s not paying attention.
Once the milk is all lined up in pails, Mal and I hurry down the road and through the Hub, carefully carrying a bucket of fresh milk for Nan. Elder Stu glares at us from his store, and I wonder why he is the way he is, why he’s so scared of everything that isn’t exactly his way. Not all the old people are like that—and Nan is definitely not like that.
I smile as we near her cottage, with the bright flowers we planted together in the window boxes and the sleepy bees humming around their hive. Nan is usually sitting outside at this time of day, reading a book in her rocking chair as she enjoys the afternoon sun—and waits for her milk. The door, oddly, is open. And when we push inside, we see why.
