Lost in the Jungle

  This book is not authorized or sponsored by Microsoft Corp., Mojang AB, Notch Development AB or Scholastic Inc., or any other person or entity owning or controlling rights in the Minecraft name, trademark, or copyrights.

  Copyright © 2017 by Hollan Publishing, Inc.

  Minecraft® is a registered trademark of Notch Development AB.

  The Minecraft game is copyright © Mojang AB.

  This book is not authorized or sponsored by Microsoft Corp., Mojang AB, Notch Development AB or Scholastic Inc., or any other person or entity owning or controlling rights in the Minecraft name, trademark, or copyrights.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any manner without the express written consent of the publisher, except in the case of brief excerpts in critical reviews or articles. All inquiries should be addressed to Sky Pony Press, 307 West 36th Street, 11th Floor, New York, NY 10018.

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  Sky Pony® is a registered trademark of Skyhorse Publishing, Inc.®, a Delaware corporation.

  Minecraft® is a registered trademark of Notch Development AB.

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  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available on file.

  Special thanks to Erin L. Falligant.

  Cover illustration by Grace Sandford

  Cover design by Brian Peterson

  Hardcover ISBN: 978-1-5107-1325-3

  Ebook ISBN: 978-1-5107-1326-0

  Printed in the United States of America

  Interior design by Joshua Barnaby

  CHAPTER 1

  This is it, thought Will. It’s now or never. He leaned over the fence to scratch the pig’s head, and then he reached for the saddle.

  Oops! He’d almost forgotten the bait. “Wait here,” he said to the pig. “I’ll be right back.”

  Will grabbed his fishing pole and hurried to the garden to find a ripe carrot. As he tugged the leafy green end of one from the dirt, the pig grunted.

  “Easy, boy,” said Will, pressing his fishhook through the carrot. “You can eat it, but not quite yet.” Then he hurried back to the pigpen and leaned the fishing pole against the fence. The carrot dangled just out of the pig’s reach.

  As Will placed his saddle gently on the pig’s back, the pig grunted a protest. But he kept his black eyes on that carrot.

  Will eased himself over the fence and lowered himself onto the saddle. Then he reached for the fishing pole.

  “Okay, boy,” he said. “Here we go. Follow the carrot!”

  Will held the carrot just in front of the pig’s nose, leading him left and right around the pen. The pig moved slowly at first and then began to trot. Will held on tight, laughing out loud. It was working. He was actually riding a pig!

  As the animal ran in circles, Will pretended he was a spider jockey. He aimed his bow and arrow—er, fishing pole—at the other pigs in the pen. He released an imaginary arrow. “Gotcha!”

  As he whirled around to search for more pigs, he came face to face with … Seth, his older brother. Seth was running toward the pen, waving his arms in the air. Was he trying to say something?

  “STOP!” Seth finally cried.

  Will dropped the fishing pole in surprise.

  The pig came to a screeching halt in front of the carrot.

  And Will sailed over the fence and landed squarely in Seth’s pumpkin patch. Ouch.

  “What are you doing?!” sputtered Seth from the edge of the garden.

  Will couldn’t answer. He was too busy picking pumpkin seeds out of his hair.

  So Seth kept talking. “First of all,” he scolded, “that saddle was very expensive. I had to trade a lot of gold for it. And saddles are for horses, not pigs. And seriously, Will, don’t you have anything better to do?”

  His brown eyes were as dark as the wet earth Will had just landed in. Seth looked really mad. But honestly, right now, Will couldn’t think of a single thing he’d rather do than get back on that pig. So he said nothing.

  Seth let out an exasperated sigh. “Well here’s an idea. How about you fix your house?”

  Will glanced over his shoulder at the house on the hill. It was made of black obsidian, as a proper house should be. A lookout tower stretched toward the sky, and windows lined the roof to let sunlight into the indoor garden. A moat of bubbling water circled the house, and the stone gate was lit with redstone torches.

  That house didn’t need fixing. There was nothing wrong with it—in fact, it looked more like a castle than a house. The only problem was, it wasn’t Will’s house. It was Seth’s.

  Will lowered his gaze to the dirt hut next door. That was his house. As he watched, a chunk of dirt fell off his roof and landed with a thud. A creeper had blown up near the house last night and done a lot of damage.

  “You should rebuild it with wood or stone to make it stronger,” suggested Seth. “With a little patience and a plan, you could build a nice little house.”

  Blah, blah, blah, thought Will. His eyes kept drifting to the horizon beyond the houses. There was a jungle out there somewhere, and forests, deserts, oceans, and snowcapped mountains to explore. Who wanted to build houses when he could be exploring the Overworld?

  Maybe Seth, the master builder, did. But not Will. He’d been dreaming of taking a journey for as long as he could remember. Maybe it was because he’d been named after his hero, William the Explorer.

  “Did you know that jungle trees can be four times as wide as normal trees?” he asked his brother.

  “What?” said Seth, squinting. “The jungle? Sure, but lots of monsters creep in the shadows of those tall trees. And it’s hard to clear out enough trees to make room to build a house.”

  Will snorted. Houses. Of course. That’s all Seth can think about.

  As he pushed himself up from the ground, a chunk of pumpkin shell slid off his back. “Well, I want to see it,” he said. “The jungle, the desert, the ocean—all of it. And when I’m done, I’ll explore the Nether, too.”

  Seth choked with disbelief. “The Nether? Not many people who visit the Nether live to tell about it, little brother.”

  “Well, I’ll be one of them,” said Will, standing tall. “I’ll fight the zombie pigmen, the ghasts, the wither skeletons—anything that stands in my way.”

  Seth made a big brother face—the one that means, I’ll bet you won’t.

  So Will added one more thing. “I’m going to see it all,” he said. “And I’m leaving tomorrow.”

  CHAPTER 2

  “Can’t you wait a few days before leaving?” asked Seth. “Then you’ll have time to make a plan.” The morning sun peeked over his shoulder from the doorway to Will’s hut.

  “Nope,” said Will. He slung his bag over his shoulder. “I’ve been dreaming about exploring the Overworld my whole life. If I have to wait another day, I’ll explode—like a dirty creeper.”

  Seth sighed. “Well, at least wait till someone can go with you,” he pleaded.

  Will shook his head. “I don’t need a babysitter. I’m fine on my own.”

  The boys stared at each other for a moment. Seth was half a head taller, with the same brown skin and dark hair as Will. They looked alike on the outside. But on the inside?

  He’s nothing like me, thought Will. He’ll never understand. But I’m going anyway. He set his jaw and sto
od tall.

  Seth finally raised his hands in the air. “Okay, have it your way,” he said. “But come to my house so I can send a few things with you, like tools and food.”

  Will almost said no, but then his stomach grumbled. Food isn’t a bad idea, he thought as he followed Seth toward the black-rock mansion next door.

  Seth kept most of his tools in a chest, and he had a lot of them.

  “You’ll want a shovel for digging dirt, an axe for chopping wood, and a pickaxe for mining stone,” he said as he pulled out a few tools. He studied the handle of the pickaxe. “Uh-oh. This one’s getting worn out.”

  “That’s way too much!” said Will. “I have my sword and my bow and arrow. That’s enough.”

  Seth shook his head. “You can’t build a shelter with a sword,” he said. “And you’re going to need shelter as soon as the sun sets.” He stared straight into Will’s eyes and added, “Do not stay outside at night, when the monsters spawn. It’s not safe.”

  Will knew he was being lectured, but he felt a twinge of excitement. The feeling only grew as he watched Seth pull a pouch of emeralds from the chest. “What are those for?” he asked.

  “You can trade them in the village,” said Seth, counting out about ten green stones. “Go to the blacksmith shop and ask for an iron pickaxe.”

  Will held the glittering stones in his palm. He’d never had his own emeralds before! He slid them safely into his pocket.

  By the time he set off down the hill, his pack was nearly bursting. He had his wooden sword and his bow and arrow, plus a whole lot more: an axe, a fishing pole, a loaf of golden-brown bread, a few apples, and some fish wrapped in paper. And my emeralds, he thought happily, patting his pocket.

  Seth, who stood by the gate, seemed less happy. “Remember what I told you,” he called to Will. “Save the food for when you’re really hungry. Don’t trust strangers. And build shelter before night falls. Do you hear me, Will?”

  Will waved over his shoulder until Seth’s voice faded into the distance.

  The village of Little Oak stretched out below at the base of the hill. From the cobblestone well at the center, skinny gravel roads stretched out in all directions. Little green gardens broke up clusters of brown buildings. A clock tower bonged the time—nine o’clock—and the morning sun reflected off the colorful stained glass windows of the church.

  When Will finally reached the gravel road, he headed past the library, past the butcher’s shop, and straight to the blacksmith.

  A man in a black apron was tending one of the furnaces on the front porch. “Ah,” he said, glancing up and wiping the sweat off his brow. “It’s the builder’s brother!”

  Will winced. Here in town, no one knew his name. But they sure knew Seth, the famous builder, who had built the clock tower and several other buildings in Little Oak.

  “Um, my name is Will, actually,” he said. “I’m here to make a trade. I need an iron pickaxe.”

  The blacksmith nodded and led the way inside to a large chest. As he lifted the lid, Will saw all sorts of treasures: iron and gold ingots, helmets, chest plates, and boots.

  The blacksmith carefully slid a pickaxe out of the chest. But then Will saw something else: a shiny iron sword.

  That would be way better than my wooden sword, he thought, fingering the emeralds in his pocket.

  He knew exactly what Seth would tell him to do. He’d say to get the pickaxe, because it was better for building. But Will couldn’t take his eyes off that shiny sword.

  By the time he stepped back outside, he’d made the trade. And with the iron sword strapped to his side, he felt ready for anything. Zombies and creepers? No problem. Skeletons and Endermen? Let me at ’em, thought Will with a grin.

  He was so lost in his thoughts that he ran right into a farmer crossing his path. A few apples fell out of the farmer’s cart.

  “Oh, sorry!” Will said quickly.

  The farmer looked angry, until he got a good look at Will’s face. “Oh! You’re the builder’s brother!”

  Will fought the urge to lie. He nodded, smiled, and stepped around the farmer.

  Don’t trust strangers, Seth had told him. But right now, Will couldn’t wait to meet a few strangers. He couldn’t wait to get out of Little Oak, to a place where no one knew him or his famous brother.

  He hoisted his pack on his back and walked east toward the still-rising sun.

  CHAPTER 3

  Will crested the top of his third hill before looking back. He’d been walking for hours, and the sun was now behind him. He shaded his eyes and glanced back.

  He could barely make it out—the black lookout tower of his brother’s house. It was a dark, tiny sliver on a distant hill, but he could still see it. Will sighed. He had traveled far today, but not far enough.

  “I’ll just stop for a snack,” he told himself as he sat down on a hollow log. He reached deep into his bag and pulled out what was left of his fish, fruit, and bread.

  As he stared at the food in front of him, Will thought of his brother again. Seth would save the food for when he was really hungry. In fact, Seth would probably be building a shelter right now.

  “Well I’m not Seth!” Will said out loud. “It’s too early to build a shelter. And I’ll eat all the food I want—I can always fish for more.” He picked up the apple and took a big bite, just to spite his brother. Then he gathered his stuff and started walking again, toward the thick cluster of trees below.

  As he pushed through a row of bushes, he found himself at the edge of a lake. Drops of water pinged off its surface. Rain? Will looked up and felt a drop on his nose. Perfect! This lake looked good for fishing, and fish were easier to catch in the rain.

  As he set up his fishing pole, something scuttled in the bushes nearby. Will froze. He held his breath as a furry black leg stepped out from the leaves, and then another, and another.

  “Yeesh!” Will leaped backward.

  It was a black spider—a very large one. But it won’t attack me, Will reminded himself, trying to calm his racing heart. Spiders only attack at night. This one barely looked at Will before it scurried back into the trees.

  Will made sure the spider was gone. Then he caught his breath and found the perfect fishing rock. He tossed his lure into the water, watching the water ripple around it. Sitting there, with gentle rain falling, he yawned and closed his eyes.

  That’s when he heard it—the hissing coming from the bush beside him. Only it wasn’t a bush at all.

  “Creeper!” Will shouted as he yanked his pole back out of the water. He grabbed his sack and sprinted away just as the creeper blew up. Will fell forward, planting his face in the mud.

  “Dirty creeper. You ruined a perfectly good fishing day!” Will hollered as he sat up, wiping his face. He scanned the bushes for more of the green monsters, but saw nothing.

  Will took a deep breath and looked upward. The rain fell harder now, and it didn’t look like it would quit anytime soon. “Maybe it is time to build a shelter,” he admitted to himself. But he wasn’t happy about it.

  He walked back toward the hill and chose the best spot—a raised mound of dirt. Then he pulled the axe out of his sack and began hacking away at the dirt. If he could dig out a big enough room, he’d be safe tonight. But it was slow going. The axe wasn’t the best tool for the job.

  Maybe I should have traded my emeralds for the pickaxe, he thought for a moment. But he’d never admit that to Seth. And besides, if he’d traded for the pickaxe, he wouldn’t have his shiny new sword.

  Will was patting the sword at his side when he saw a brilliant flash of light. Seconds later, he heard a crack from overhead. He hurried out of his hole. Was it another creeper exploding?

  A second flash of light answered his question.

  Lightning.

  Uh-oh, thought Will. Lightning meant a thunderstorm. A thunderstorm meant dark storm clouds. And darkness meant mobs would spawn, even during the day. Monsters.

  As rain and wind whipped al
l around him, Will shivered. Uh-oh.

  CHAPTER 4

  Mud flew this way and that as Will dug madly into the earth. He knew that thunderstorms were bad news. Not only would monsters spawn, but they could be super charged by lightning. He had to finish his shelter right now.

  He heard the moans of the zombies before he saw them. Two—no, three—staggered across the ground, arms outstretched. Will pulled out his bow and launched arrows, one after another. The first zombie dropped with a grunt.

  Will’s heart pounded as he turned back toward his shelter. Zombies are slow, he told himself. I can make it—I can finish this in time. He dug out a few more blocks of dirt. Then he grabbed his bow and arrow and whirled around again.

  Yikes! The two zombies were just a few feet away. Will dropped his bow and grabbed his sword instead. He stepped forward, swinging the sword. With a few strong strokes, he took down the first monster. The iron sword was amazing!

  With a surge of confidence, Will attacked the second zombie. The monster growled and groaned before falling backward, dropping chunks of rotten flesh.

  Will pumped his sword toward the sky. “Yeah!” he shouted. “Take that, you dirty mobs!”

  When he turned back toward his shelter, another bolt of lightning struck. As the blue flash of light hit the ground in front of him, the hair stood up on Will’s arms. Did I get hit? he wondered with horror.

  Then he saw it—the creeper looming before him. Except this was no ordinary creeper. Lit with an eerie blue light, the super-charged creeper started to sizzle.

  Will took a split second to grab his bow and his bag of tools, but it was a split second too long. The explosion lifted him off the ground and ripped everything out of his hands. He sailed toward the lake and hit the ground. Hard.

  For a moment, he lay perfectly still. He heard nothing. He felt nothing. Then his ears flooded with noise: rain, thunder, and the groaning and hissing of mobs all around.