Tangled in Knots

By Caroline N. Chandler

The end of the world was an inconvenient time to have eighty-foot-long hair.

Rapunzel bolted through the forest, trying to ignore the echoing moans that chased her. Her head snapped back when an unruly strand of hair tangled around a branch. She yanked it free, then pumped her legs as hard as she could. But the monsters drew nearer by the second.

I really should have remembered a hair tie.

Her feet slid out from under her and she landed hard in a puddle of sludge. Wiping the silver liquid on her jeans, she tried not to imagine how much of the stuff got in her hair.

Breaking through the tree line, Rapunzel drew from a new reserve of energy, redoubling her efforts. About a kilometer from the forest, the fortified door of the hideout came into view.

Pete opened the door for her. The zombie chases of the last few years had become so commonplace that no one was a bit concerned. Rapunzel heard the creature banging on the reinforced steel door after Pete locked it.

Bell, Pete’s best friend, was by Rapunzel’s side in a split second. “Did you find anything, Raps?” she asked eagerly.

Still panting too much to speak, Rapunzel nodded and reached into her satchel, pulling out a few packets of powdered food, some soup cans, and ten water bottles.

“Make it last, mates. We need to be extra sparing if we hope to last the trip up north,” Pete reminded them. Of course he would be the one giving instructions, being the oldest of the group.

“Can you pass me a can of chicken noodle?” Midas asked.

“Yes, I can,” Pete answered, politely handing a water bottle to Bell.

Midas sighed. “Fine. Would you please pass me a can of chicken noodle soup?” He imitated Pete’s British accent—quite unsuccessfully.

“Raps, I think you need a shower,” Bell suggested quietly. “Your hair is covered in some silver… something.”

“Oh, I’ve gotten used to unexpected hair color changes,” Rapunzel retorted, narrowing her eyes. She used to have dark brown locks, before an unfortunate prank from Midas.

“Are you seriously still bitter?” he asked, taking a break from slurping his cold soup to notice her glare.

“Like burnt coffee with too many grounds,” she said.

“Okay!” Bell broke in. “Do you want to practice together in the basement, Raps?”

“I’ll go with you, just in case,” Pete said, running a hand through his gray-streaked blond hair.

Everyone in the little family knew he hated the basement, but it was the only place roomy enough—and dark enough—for Bell to practice her light bending.

“And Midas,” he said, “you might want to save some of that for later, lad. I don’t plan on giving you mine when you get hungry tomorrow.”

Midas stared into Pete’s eyes, defiantly scraping the bottom of his soup can.

Stepping into the musty basement reminded Rapunzel of when she had found it two years ago. After escaping from the Laboratory for Disease Study and Prevention, she had been on the run for months when she’d stumbled on the abandoned bunker.

She’d settled into the basement, discovering Midas only when she’d ventured upstairs a few weeks later. He, too, was hiding from the twisted company. In a couple days, Pete and Bell had shown up, also on the lam from the L.D.S.P. Since then, there had been some close calls in which they were nearly discovered—by both the L.D.S.P. and zombies.

All the escapees had cool abilities from the experiments they had been subjected to. Pete could fly. Bell was able to manipulate light. Midas turned everything he touched into gold. But all Rapunzel got out of her time at the laboratory was really long hair.

Presumably, their powers provided them with immunity against the disease, unless they were just very good at avoiding zombies. Getting caught would kill the hope of sharing that immunity with the rest of the world.

After a quick look around, Pete stretched out and appeared to fall asleep—on the ceiling.

Suddenly, a clang sounded from the far side of the room, followed by ominous moaning. Zombies. Pete was on the floor in an instant, grabbing Bell and Rapunzel by the shoulders and propelling them back up the stairs.

“Not again,” Pete grunted.

The diseased creature had already made it halfway across the basement floor, his speed increased by his sickness. Rapunzel sprinted to the ground floor while Pete flew Bell up the stairwell. Without warning, Rapunzel felt a sharp tug on her head, and she slammed back down to the floor.

A dull thud stopped her scream. The zombie was on the floor, unconscious. Rapunzel looked around for who or what had knocked the enemy down.

“What happened?” she asked.

“Your hair,” Pete said. “It was… alive.”

“It hit the guy on the head… with a crowbar,” Bell whispered.

Rapunzel’s eyes widened as she looked at her hair piled around the bottom of the staircase. It glowed faintly golden in the dark basement, flecked with shimmering silver. Rapunzel watched in amazement as it arranged itself in a neat little heap next to her.

“How?” she breathed.

“Could the experiments have a delayed effect?” Bell suggested.

“Do you see the silver? I think that sludge might’ve had something in it,” Pete said.

“Look out!” Bell screamed.

Another zombie emerged from the shadows with a shriek and launched at Rapunzel. In a flash, her hair covered her and wrapped itself around the creature, then threw the diseased man across the room as the strands carried Rapunzel up the staircase. Pete slammed the basement door shut, barred it, and padlocked it.

Midas stared wide-eyed at the three of them. “What just happened?”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Caroline N. Chandler is a very random person. She likes random things like swing sets, sci-fi with heart, books featuring unfortunate children, and listening to Christian metal. Her random hobbies include sketching, writing (obviously), eating pasta of any kind, and basing her entire personality on her current read. Above everything else, she loves God and believes that all things (yes, even stories) should be made for His glory and the spread of His gospel.

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