Dystopia (BoD Book Three); A Camp Minecraft AU

Chapter Eleven; Wilbur

Wilbur took a nail from between his teeth and positioned it on the board, then shifted his grip to tap the nail into place, then shifted again and hammered it into the wood.

The basement was coming along pretty well. He had built around half of the wall up to this point, which was pretty good in his book. Especially since his first building.

Wilbur was surprised the little shack he constructed back when he first showed up here lasted him as long as it had.

That had been, what- six? Seven years? At least to him. Apparently time worked differently in Utopia. The more people there, the faster time flew in comparison to the overworld. Or the other world, technically.

Loaf poked his head into the basement, "How's it going, Will?"

Wilbur turned, pricking his ear, "Good!" Wilbur replied through his teeth. He placed his hammer down and took the nails out of his mouth and set them in the bucket beside him, "How long until nightfall?"

Loaf tapped his chin, "About thirty minutes, I think? We should probably start moving supplies down here."

Wilbur looked back at the unfinished walls, "Are you sure? I'm not quite finished."

Loaf scanned the room and hummed in thought, "It should be fine, but I'll ask Zud and see what he thinks."

Wilbur flashed a thumbs up and turned back to the wall, grabbing yet another plank. A few minutes later, three sleeping bags were dropped into the basement. Wilbur jumped and turned, seeing Zud climb down the ladder and move the sleeping bags away. Another three sleeping bags were tossed down, with one of them unraveling, causing a desperate attempt from Zud to try and keep the bag from touching the ground. Wilbur quickly brushed off his hands and trotted over to assist his dad by grabbing one end and helping to sloppily roll up the sleeping bag. Wilbur then took the other sleeping bags and moved them to the section of the bunker that had completed walls and a floor.

Wilbur brushed the bags clean as more supplies was brought over and placed on the crates that Wilbur had brought down.

Zud observed the room for the first time, "Will this hold up?"

Wilbur followed his father's gaze, "I don't know. It should."

Zud hummed as his eyes scanned the opposing dirt wall. He nodded slowly, then turned and strolled over to Wilbur, helping him set up the bedrolls. Kate, Loaf, Karan, and Gold all entered the basement in order. Gold hung near the staircase, looking around with glazed eyes. Karan noticed this and strolled over to his friend and gently guided him towards the sleeping bags. Wilbur turned away from the two.

Kate carefully placed down a wicked looking scythe on the ground beside her sleeping bag. Wilbur tipped his head to get a better look at it. Kate noticed and smiled, "Cool, huh?"

Wilbur looked up at Kate, "Um. Yeah. Yeah, it's cool. Jerome made it?"

Kate nodded, "He did a pretty good job, too."

Wilbur nodded in agreement. It was a very nice weapon. Though he had to add; "A scythe is an odd choice."

Kate observed it for a moment, then shrugged, "Death recommended it. Recommended it probably isn't the best word. They said I should have one, yknow, with plant manipulation and stuff. Fits the theme, I guess."

Wilbur nodded slowly. The mention of Death nagged at him. He turned back to Zud, who was setting up his and Wilbur's beds. His gaze skipped over to Gold and Karan, who were setting up in a corner. Karan was trying for a smile, but it was notably forced, most likely due to Gold hesitance. Gold and Wilbur made eye contact and the two held it for a moment. Gold clenched his jaw, as if he wanted to speak but couldn't quite find the words. Wilbur exhaled through his nose and turned away, flicking an ear.

Something about Gold, Wilbur didn't like. Nobody would tell him what had happened before they met, which Wilbur was certain that Gold played a heavy role in it, and it was starting to drive Wilbur crazy. He wasn't just some kid, anymore. He was eighteen. He had lived alone in the secluded forests for years, because time didn't work the same in this utopia. He had taught the other members about the Darkness because he witnessed them firsthand.

He saw what they did.

He knew a touch would leave him dead.

He found that out the hard way.

Zud still hadn't figured out why Wilbur consistently wore gloves and why he got jumpy when his hand was touched. Subconsciously, Wilbur touched his hand, the one that had made contact with a wisp of smoke from the tallest of the dark creatures. The one that had turned black and he had to work years to make it move again.

"Will?"

Wilbur looked up, perking his ears towards his dad.

"Are you okay?" Zud asked quietly, sitting on his sleeping bag.

Wilbur blinked a few times, "Yeah." He lied, "Yeah, I'm fine."

Zud studied the piglin for a moment, then nodded, "Night is soon. Go ahead and lay down."

***

The first two hours were fine.

The calls of the creatures erupted from far off. Quiet at first, then steadily grew in volume. Then, he heard the shifting of wind and dust being stirred. The six held their breaths, deadly silent. After a few moments, the creature passed.

They all gave collective sighs of relief.

Then Wilbur picked up on a sound.

It was quiet, enough for him to almost miss it, especially with his heightened hearing, then it grew louder. It sounded like a scuttling, like mice running through the walls and across the floor. When Wilbur could identify it as dirt being shifted, the other five had picked up on the noise.

Zud opened his mouth to speak, but Wilbur slammed his paw over the man's mouth, effectively shutting him up. Wilbur strained to listen, pinpointing the sound as coming from the other side of the bunker. Wilbur shifted, eyes quickly flickering to Kate's scythe that was luckily within arm's reach. Dirt shifting loose from the wall caused Wilbur to snap his attention back to the wall.

Dirt was pushed outwards, making clumps tug loose and fall to the ground, splitting apart on contact. Wilbur's hand twitched as he lifted it slightly, hovering in case he needed to make a grab for the weapon. While everyone else inched back. Wilbur carefully rose to a crouch and took a step forward.

He could practically hear Zud screaming internally at Wilbur as the piglin's fingers brushed the hilt of the scythe.

The unmistakable black fog seeped into the room through the cracks, lingering at the base of the wall. With a great heave, the dirt was shoved back, and a skull emerged from the tunnel.

The creature paused for a moment, then saw Wilbur and snapped it's attention towards him, empty sockets locking on the piglin. Wilbur grasped the scythe and shifted to a battle stance, holding the scythe out in front of him.

Did Wilbur expect the scythe to do anything? No. Absolutely not. But he sure looked intimidating which was infinitely better than just standing there.

The creature observed Wilbur and his scythe, then took one step forward. Wilbur growled and the creature paused, then took another step, looking more curious than malicious. It slowly padded towards Wilbur, and when it came within reach, Wilbur slashed, cutting through the fog.

A shriek erupted from the creature and it stumbled back,  pawing at it's neck, where Wilbur had lashed out at. The fog around the wound whipped around in a panic as a dark liquid poured from it. The stench of rot hit Wilbur full force, making him gag. He could tell that the others smelled it too. The beast cried out and retreated, slipping back into the tunnel and vanishing.

Wilbur turned to look back at the other five, who stared at him with wide eyes.

Pride warmed him as he stood tall, looking down at the five.

He wouldn't be underestimated again.