Chapter 7

Jim

Never thought I would be standing beneath some chick’s balcony. Missed my cue. Should have said my name’s Romeo. Perhaps then I wouldn’t be trying to climb up a hair ladder in some crazy fairy tale. Timothy Leary, eat your heart out! LSD is for pussies! I twisted a shank of golden hair around my forearm, pulling myself up higher. The kicker is, I don’t even know why I am climbing Castle Rapunzel other than I don’t know what else to do. Climbing up a chick’s hair in my underwear stinks of Freud.

“If I am in the funny farm, my synapses are seriously misfiring!” I yelled as I struggled to free myself of the hair clinging to my sweating arm. This is not fun!

“I’m sorry. What did you say?” Rapunzel bent at the waist, cupping her hand to her ear. I plummeted a foot. My hands slid on the silky hair, burning when I tightened my grip enough to halt my descent.

“Could you please not move?” I like to think I shouted, but it might have come out as a squeal. I am not into heights.

’Punzel backed up, and I soared at least five feet, bringing me high enough to grasp the window sill. The hair enveloped me, clinging like corn silk. I admit, I was panicked to the point of hyperventilation. I did not care about the tangles I created thrashing to free myself, nor the way I tried extricating myself from the blonde strands. I had one goal...well, more than one. But foremost was to survive this, followed closely by getting back to my life, my wife, and my child. I reminded myself of this when ’Punzel knelt before me and cleavageliciously begged me to tell her I was okay. I’m married, not dead. Though boob-struck, I managed to assure her I was okay. ’Punzel’s hair retreated of its own accord and coiled at her feet. Sentient hair? Scary thought.

She swept up her locks and twisted them round and round her body, tucking the tips into her belt to walk unhampered. I couldn’t help but ask. “Why don’t you cut that stuff?”

She gasped in horror. “Cut my illustrious hair? I can’t!”

She brought me a glass of water, which I gratefully drained. As I drank, I looked at my hands. No strands of hair.

I gathered my thoughts and manners. “My apologies, ma’am, I am lost. Please tell me the best way to get back to New Orleans.”

Hey, it’s a long shot, but I have to start somewhere. Puzzling. Studying my clean hands and legs, I marveled that somehow all the slime, grime, sweat, and dirt on me had disappeared. I couldn’t pinpoint the exact time it happened because earlier I was too busy trying not to pee my pants. Hell, maybe I did, and it disappeared with the rest of the gunk.

“I am so sorry, sir. I fear I know not where New Orleans abides. Even if I did, I cannot leave the tower.” ’Punzel sniffed and a teardrop slid down her cheek. It was wiped gently away by a lock of hair. Creepy.

I studied my new surroundings. The place resembled an efficiency, except round. It was a living room with no bed. I assumed she either slept on the couch or a hide-a-bed. The kitchen area boasted a fireplace instead of a stove and a table with two chairs on which we sat. ’Punzel must have poured my water from a tapped cistern, and I suspected the screen in one corner housed a crude lavatory.

I gestured to a shut trap door in the center of the room. “Lock yourself in?”

She avoided answering my question. “Oh, but now you have come, and I am saved!”

She was good at this, I mused. Rushing to my side, she embraced me. The freaky hair slid away from her cleavage, so the tops of her breasts pressed firm against me. “It is such a little thing I ask. Merely bring me a rope from yon stables so I might escape this place. I would be so grateful.”

She rubbed against me like a kitten. Her hands squeezed my shoulders, but I felt something else. Glancing back, I watched a lock of hair pat and stroke my back.

“Making me an offer I can’t refuse?” I did my best Brando, but she didn’t react. Something didn’t make sense. Scratch that, a helluva lot didn’t make sense, but even for a bizarre world, this chick scored high on the weirdo-meter. She lifted me from the chair and dragged me back to the window. Damn strong for a damsel in distress.

“I don’t suppose you have any threads for me to wear.” When I got the inevitable look of confusion, I gestured at my state of undress, plucked at her sleeve, and tried to look like I was asking a question. Probably, I looked constipated. I stink at charades.

“Oh! I have something that may suit.” She rummaged in a chest and came back with a black robe. As I wrapped it around me, she warned, “There is a wicked witch who lives in the castle. The sky darkens and the robe will help hide you, but make haste and tread with care.”

I resembled an under-dressed Dracula, but I was mostly covered. I swung my legs over the sill.

“Now, don’t fret, I shall have you upon earth in a thrice.” She gave me a shove, and I slid down a hair slide. The ride was over fast. I didn’t have time to scream, nor had I been prepared for the end. Yet again, I landed hard on my tookus.

I could barely see ’Punzel as she leaned out the window and shouted to me. “Be quick! I shall anxiously await you!” She then disappeared.

The wind whipped the hem of my short robe, baring my shoeless feet and hairy shins. I am in decent shape, so it wasn’t binding, but the sleeves were too short. A storm was rolling in. Dodging the occasional horse pucky, I jogged to the stable. The strong wind made it a struggle to open the door. After I entered, it slammed shut behind me. Straw drifted around my feet, then settled back to the hard dirt.

I was surprised to find several kerosene lamps lit and hanging from pegs around the room. A horse snorted in one of the stalls. Other than ’Punzel, this was the first sign of life at the castle. Come to think of it, I didn’t remember seeing a bird or even a cat. I neared the stall. A beautiful Lipizzaner eyed me up and down, then neighed.

“Shhhh! Cousin Itt’s wife in the tower says there’s some wicked witch around.” Yes, I spoke to the horse. I also talk to tangled shoelaces, water that’s slow to boil, test papers that continue to reveal wrong answers, and...you get the idea. “Well, Silver. I don’t have a freakin’ clue what to do.”

The horse bumped the stall door and did a come-hither gesture with its head. What the hell, why not? On my way, I grabbed a high stool and parked it in front of her. I’m hoping it’s a her, because the mane and tail were festooned with pink braided ribbons and flowers.

“Excuse me, Miss Silver. I assume it’s miss? Be a nasty, embarrassing trick to pull on a dude.” Crossing my arms, I tipped the stool back, and rested my head on the wall. I tried to remember every fact Mindy had ever let slip about her job. I knew people vanished then reappeared once ISMAT destroyed all the ORBs. Depending on the number of ORBs and the difficulty in hunting them, that could take hours or even days. She didn’t say for sure, but I suspected there were a few people who never showed up or came back dead. So, if I bided my time, I should eventually pop back home. I hoped. The castle grounds appeared safe. Well, certainly safer than outside the walls.

“I think I am gonna hang out here with you, Miss Silver, until this storm peters out. I’m guessing you are the witch’s ride and I’m hoping she will avoid the stables until the weather clears.” Sliding a plank in place, I latched the barn doors, so if anyone came, I would at least get warning. I spied a ladder leading to a hay loft. Before I began the climb, I turned back to the white mare. “Good night, Miss Silver. Thanks for sharing your shelter.”

Yawning, I climbed the ladder to the loft, piled hay into a half-ass pillow, and stretched out on my back. The stress and anxiety had exhausted me. I was sound asleep in minutes.

I don’t know how long I slept. The alarm at home is set for five a.m., but the bright sunlight shown between the cracks of the slats, where parts of the barn wood rotted and fell away.

“Guess my eight-thirty Honors course, Science in Medieval Culture is cancelled,” I muttered, bitter to miss one of my favorite classes. I enjoyed the intimacy of smaller honors and grad courses. I lowered my head through the opening. The hood on the stupid robe flopped forward and hay bits I acquired while sleeping showered me. “A-a-a-a-a-CHOO! A-a-a-a-a-CHOO! A-a-a-a--a-a-a-CHOO! Damn allergies.”

During my quick peek, I hadn’t seen any sign of life, however if anyone was there, I made enough noise to wake the dead. Bad, bad thought, Nichols. Christopher Lee, get thee behind me! Things are already freaked beyond belief, don’t go asking for trouble. I rubbed my nose on my sleeve. Yeah, gross. Sue me. This barn isn’t equipped with boxes of Kleenex.

I clamored down the ladder. “Morning, Miss Silver,” I said to the mare as I bowed. The Lipizzaner nickered, slipped one foreleg forward, and dipped her head. The stable doors were wide open, and the lamps dowsed. I checked the stable. The room only contained me and the horse.

“Miss Silver, next time company comes a knockin’, could you maybe do the neighing thing?”

I paced the length of the stable and ran my fingers through my hair. I’ve been told I resemble an older David Cassidy. A night in a barn with no comb, blow dryer, or hairspray reduced me to looking like Tiny Tim, hair wise--and no, I will not play a uke and sing “Tiptoe Through the Tulips.”

In the years since I married, I have never spent a night away from my wife’s side. I missed her so much that it hurt. I was dying of thirst and my bladder was full. As I opened an empty stable door, I said, “You’ve been an excellent host, but I sure want to get back to my wife and daughter.” I gathered the robe up so I could relieve myself in the corner. “Aaah,” I sighed, letting loose a stream.

“So, I think you know not where my cherished Winnalea is, and you are not here to free the wicked Rapunzel.”

The voice made me jump and, as I dropped my prick and robe, I felt a trickle of urine land on my feet. “What the--crap.” I spun.

A green-skinned woman, with ebony hair, opened the stall that had held Miss Silver. She wore a shimmering white gown. “Well, you can’t be an Orion slave girl, because you would be wearing less. Nice dress.”

I opened the half door and stepped out into the main stable, hoping I looked braver than I felt.

“I do not understand, but no matter. You will find Winnalea and return her.”

“Umm, okay lady--news flash, where I come from green skin equals bad guy, unless you’re the Incredible Hulk--which you are not, and why should I do your bidding?” As an afterthought, I asked, “Who the hell is Whinny?”