Time Tangle

By Roger Greider

Brad Williams is a young Auto Mechanics teacher at a Vo Tech in Oklahoma City. Older but attractive Oklahoma History teacher, Jewel Nicholson, annoys him with her giggling and unwanted attentions. After an unknown girl thumbs a ride, he’s on his front walk when a large hailstone hits him above the temple. He’s only partially conscious, when Ozod, an invisible, bumbling, interstitial entity, offers to save him from the deadly hail by sending him back in time to get him under a roof.
Lightning strikes nearby, and Brad finds himself in the 1989 land run on the claim of John Benson. The Promised roof is a scrub oak tree. Brad is angry, and Ozod irritates him further with mixed up logic and repetitive speech, often including the phrase, “Oh my goodness, yes.”
Brad meets Benson’s family. And the nine year-old daughter, Ellen, looks familiar. She flirts with him, and he thinks she is the prettiest child he has ever seen. He is scared and demands that Ozod send him back to 2012 immediately. Ozod argues with him and makes mistake after mistake, using lightning strikes to transport him to many eras, ranging from one hundred, fifty million years in the past to 2155.
Ellen is frequently on Brad’s mind, and he is in mortal danger much of the time. In 1899 he sees Ellen again. She’s married and has a seven year-old son, Jimmy, and a dog, Shep. But her husband, who has started up a carriage factory in the barn, has left her. Brad is in love with her, but she is disillusioned by his story of time-travel. It turns her off, and she thinks he is a con man or is insane. She threatens to shoot him if he doesn’t leave.
Jim and Shep like Brad and help him win Ellen’s affection as he makes a success of the carriage factory and builds a car, which he names Watkins. Ozod tries to send them all (Brad, Ellen, Jim and Shep) to 2012, but they go to 1933 and then to 1945. Ellen’s teacher, Mary, who, looks like the English teacher at the Vo Tech, takes them in, and June, Mary’s daughter reminds Brad of Jewel.
WWII is raging and Brad is conscripted. He distinguishes himself in battle. After, the war, Ellen sadly accepts the fact that Jim wants to stay in 1945 with Mary and June. And Ozod trys to send Brad and Ellen to 2012, but they get only to 1977.
Mary’s house has been enlarged and given a brick veneer and an ornamental iron fence. Jim is gone, having died of a throat infection in 1959, and Ellen is distraught. Without Brad knowing, she gets Ozod to arrange a split-jump, sending her back to be with Jim simultaneously with jumping Brad successfully to 2012.
In the hospital, without Ellen, Brad thinks his head injury caused him to dream about traveling through time. Then, as he begins to find evidence, he realizes the unknown girl who thumbed a ride was Ellen, who had made a time jump to protect him in the hailstorm.
Mary’s old house is for sale and Jewel proposes that she and Brad pool resources to buy it together. But he searches for money to buy it by himself. The agent arranges for him to meet a representative of the owner in the garage. When he goes to the meeting, Jewel is there in the hallway to the garage. She tells him she and her new boyfriend, Frankie, have already signed a contract to buy the house.
Before the terrible disappointment sinks in, Brad hears Ozod’s voice. “Here it comes, Ellen.” Lightning strikes the iron fence and Ellen appears in the garage, seated in the Watkins. Brad proposes and she accepts. The report of Jimmy’s death was false. He is seventy-four and is to fly from Texas to be with them the following day with his new puppy, Shep."

• Language: English
• Publisher: Roger Greider
• Release date: Oct 17, 2011
• ISBN: 9781466191792

Roger Greider

Roger Greider was born in Topeka, KS in 1924. In 1928 he moved with his family to Tulsa, OK where he lived until 1943. Graduating from Will Rogers High School, he attended Tulsa University for one year before enlisting in the Army at age nineteen. On the front line in Europe, he was promoted from Private to Staff Sergeant, earning three ‘Bronze Stars. After his honorable discharge in 1945, he attended Tulsa University, earning Bachelor of Arts Degrees in both music and mathematics and a Master of Arts in Math. He was employed as a mathematician in the Basic Research Division of Jersey Production Research Co. And in his thirties, while taking graduate work in both music and math at The Univ. Of Tennessee, he played first desk second violin in the Knoxville Symphony. From 1945 to 1970, he directed church choirs, played in many string quartets and Sang in barbershop quartets. From 1961 to 1964 he was an associate professor of mathematics at The State University of New York, campus at Oneonta. And while he was there, he played in the Oneonta Symphony, sang in a barbershop quartet and directed the Sweet Adelines In 1965 he enrolled at the University Of Oklahoma, where he earned a second Master of Science degree in math and a Ph.D. in mathematics education. He then taught mathematics at Oklahoma City university, The University of Central Oklahoma and Rose State College, where he was the Dean of the Engineering And Science Division. Roger now lives in Oklahoma City, happily married to his beautiful wife, Judy, who is a retired Doctor of Pharmacy. They enjoy membership in Quail Creek Golf and Country Club. Between them they have three sons, a daughter, six grandchildren and, at the moment, eight great grandchildren. He has published his war memoirs, “Warrior, A True Account of a WWII GI,” a 2nd edition, “Temporary Warrior” and five novels: “Moonfall,” “Time Tangle,” “The Chicken Yard,” “Time Ship,” and “The Trust.” As of November, 2013, he continues to write.

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TIME TANGLE

By Roger E. Greider

SMASHWORDS EDITION

Copyright 2011 Roger E. Greider

Smashwords Edition License Notes

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TIME TANGLE

Chapter 1

Brad Williams enjoyed teaching auto mechanics at the Vo Tech and usually left school on time Fridays. But this Friday he had worked late in the lab to finish repairing an antique shotgun belonging to his neighbor, Andy. Finishing up, he honed the locking blade on his pocketknife and looked out the window at the gathering clouds as he hung his shop apron over the peg.

As he hurried out to put the top up on his restored MGB, he smiled and waved at the elderly, slightly overweight, English teacher as she was leaving the building. Her round motherly face was always comforting and made you want to hug her. She was a favorite of the students and everyone liked her.

He finished fastening down the top on his car as Jewel Nicholson, the Oklahoma History teacher, came running in her high heels from the next building, calling to him, "Bradie; oh Bradie." She was carrying her briefcase and waving at him as the hem of her pleated miniskirt bounced provocatively.

He hated the way she called him Braddie. She was 36, which he thought of as almost 40. He was 25, and her constant flirting and giggling annoyed him. Actually, he wasn’t interested in a relationship with any woman. His college fling had gone sour, and after graduation, his failed marriage had led him to vow, Never again.

Brad thought the way Jewel did her dark hair was attractive and made her look younger, but not young enough to wear that skirt. He had overheard one of the older boys laugh and say, after having watched her reach to write at the top of the chalkboard, I don’t think she knows she’s a girl. Braddie, would you give me a ride home? She giggled. "My car is in the shop. I thought you might want to fix it for me. She giggled again. But I didn’t want to bother you."

Brad gave her a forced smile, sliding behind the wheel and putting the shotgun in the back seat. Sure, Jewel, hop in. He usually opened doors for women, especially older women, but he didn't want to give Jewel any encouragement.

I see you got Andy's gun finished. She giggled, and then pointed to his pocket. You forgot to put your pens in your desk again. Having studied his routine, she was always mentioning what he had or hadn't done. When she learned he was thinking of buying a house, she asked him to let her help him pick it out. Lord! He would have to discourage her from doing that.

As they were leaving the parking lot, a girl flagged them down. She was carrying what looked like a deep desk drawer with a football helmet in it. Mr. Williams, could I have a ride? It looks like rain and my house is just down the block from yours. Something about her hair and dress intrigued him. Maybe she was one of the new students. As he moved the gun out of her way, he wondered why he hadn't noticed her on campus. He liked her voice and the way she moved.

Jewel's face sagged into a hostile frown as she let her in the back seat. When Brad pulled in Jewel's driveway, the girl said, I'll get out here while you're stopped. Brad thought she sounded as though she were about to cry.

Jewel pressed against him as she tugged the back of her seat forward again to make enough room for her to get out with the big drawer. When the youngster was almost out of earshot Jewel said, Too bad she doesn't know how to dress. Brad hoped the girl hadn't heard.

After they watched her go, Jewel reached into her briefcase, and her voice reverted to the sweet southern lady drawl. Oh, Braddie, would you open my letters with your pocketknife? This was the umtheenth time she had wanted him to open letters. He was beginning to think she looked for things for him to use his knife on. At the school picnic, she had wanted him to sharpen her pencil. He hadn't taken a date, and she boldly attached herself to him, making it look as though they were together.

She caught her breath and her eyes lit up as he snapped the knife open. I don't know what I'd do without your pocketknife; it's so handy. Girls ought to have pockets. If I had a pocket, I'd buy me a little-ole knife to carry with me all the time. Giggling, she added, But then I couldn't get you to help me with yours, could I?

As he handed her the opened envelopes, hiding his annoyance, she leaned against him and put her hand on his leg. Sweetie, it was so nice of you to bring me home. Why don't you come in for a cup of coffee before you go?

A bolt of lightning, not far away, gave Brad an excuse and prompted his response. Thanks, Jewel, but I'd better get home before it starts raining. She pouted but then giggled at the inadequacy of her skirt as she struggled out of the bucket seat. Watching her wiggle up the steps to the door, looking back at him with a meaningful smile, he had to admit she had a good figure.

It began to rain as he raced down the street. He turned on the wipers, and by the time he swung into his driveway, it was coming down hard. The car almost skidded into the yard, but Brad managed to stay on the drive and pull up close to the garage door, knowing he was going to get drenched if the rain didn’t stop. This wasn't the first time he regretted having the parking space in his garage full of antiques and tools.

Even though he could barely see the sidewalk through the cloudburst, he thought about making a dash to the front door. The porch light wasn't on and the walk would be slippery. But he was sure the new rubber and canvas walking shoes he wore to soften the concrete shop floor would grip the surface.

Retrieving the shotgun from behind the seat, he was ready to jump out if the downpour let up. But the rain came down heavier, and hail began pummeling the ground. Hailstones, the size of baseballs were hitting the concrete, exploding like grenades.

Watching the dents sink into the beautiful hood of his MGB made him moan. He was thinking it couldn't get any worse, when two giant stones tore through the convertible top, and the windshield shattered into a mass of flying glass, mixing with the ice fragments. He threw the door open and made an awkward dash for the porch, trying to hold the flat part of the gunstock over his head. Halfway there, a large stone hit him above the temple and he fell to the ground, in pain. With his eyes closed, he thought he saw a billboard on the back of his eyelids. It displayed his pleading, disorganized thoughts as they were racing through his brain.

Oh, God; the porch; out of the hail; under the roof; any roof.

A response to his frantic plea flashed onto the sign. I can take you back; yes, back in time, oh yes, back to when there is a structure enclosing; oh my yes, enclosing the space your body now occupies. Beneath the message was a signature: Ozod.

In a cloud of confusion, Brad thought of how wonderful the promised enclosure would be. At that moment, a bolt of lightning struck the house, and he was engulfed in light. When the glare faded, he found himself lying on the ground in an electrical storm with no rain and no hail. But he was soaking wet.

It was daytime; close to three or four o’clock, he thought, judging by the Sun. The air had a fresh odor he didn't recognize. A thorny vine drooped only inches from his face. It was loaded with blackberries, and the crooked branches of a large scrub-oak tree sprawled over him. The thorns were hurting almost more than his aching head.

He used the gun to pry the bushes away, and he eased his way out of the blackberries, thinking he might be hallucinating. Looking at the Sun again, he set his watch back to four, which was going to make his day about five hours longer. He had the crazy feeling that the last ten or fifteen minutes had flashed by in a few seconds.

As he tried to think clearly, his thoughts were interrupted by the terrifying sight of a huge rattlesnake slithering beside him in the bushes. Brad was frozen in fear for a few seconds, and then he saw the snake was leaving. He closed his eyes and shook his head to clear it. The motion was painful but He had to get rid of this terrible thing that seemed to be happening.

For a moment he thought the lightning could have distorted his vision. But, with a change in the breeze, he could smell the singed tree, and when he opened his eyes it was still there. The pain from the thorns was certainly real enough, and he was as close to panic as he had ever been. He wanted to run; but where?

The stinging from the thorns subsided as he massaged the complaining areas gently. And he sat quietly on the ground, hoping the insanity would go away. His headache was letting up, but as he examined the goose egg rising on his head, frustration replaced fear. The author of the billboard message had obviously caused his dilemma, and Brad lashed out in anger.

Ozod, if that's your stupid name, what's going on? Where’s the structure that’s supposed to be enclosing me? I'm not in a building! This is a blackberry patch full of snakes!

Ozod added, in a loud, but rather high-pitched voice, "And an oak tree, and an oak tree; oh yes, an oak tree for a roof; yes indeed, an oak tree for a roof. You said, 'just a roof over my head.' Oh yes, that's all you asked for. You didn’t ask for a building, but I gave you this sturdy structure of bushes anyway. And talking about 'stupid', who was it that ran into a hailstorm with nothing but a gun over his head; oh yes, nothing but a gun?"

"My God; that’s all I had. And you knew what I meant. I just wanted to get out of the hail. We could have gone back to yesterday; going back only a few minutes would have been enough. I could have had that cup of coffee with Jewel until the storm was over. You didn't have to take me back to the Creation. And I wasn't running into that hailstorm. I was running out of it."

Well, if you don't say what you mean, then I have to guess. Oh yes, I have to guess. I can do anything, but you have to be clear, clear about what you want. And, dear boy, please don't exaggerate; One snake. Oh my yes, one snake. Please!

Wait a minute, Brad said. What's with the voice? If you can speak, why did I have to read those stupid signs? I'm not even sure you spelled the words right. And what kind of a name is 'Ozod.' It sounds slimy;

Ozod quipped, "Well, I wouldn't talk; 'Brad' sounds like something with a sharp point and a flat head. I did the best I could on the spur; yes, the very spur of the moment; the best I could. And I never misspell words. Besides, you spelled those words yourself, in your mind. Now if I'm to help you, you'll have to be clear about what you want; oh my goodness, yes."

Brad paused in silence, trying to control his frustration. OK. I want to go back; I mean forward, in time, to the day before the hailstorm. That will give me time to clear a place for the car in the garage.

"Oh, I can't do that. Goodness no, I can't do that."

You just said you could do anything.

Well yes, anything but that. That's out of the question; yes, out of the question. We could go back a year or so, or maybe a few months, but not just a day; oh no, not just a day.

But it wouldn’t be ‘just a day.’ It would be almost the same length of time as the jump we just made.

Well, it's like a person trying to throw a ball; yes a ball, back to himself without first going to get it. It’s hard to explain. But we were just lucky; oh my yes, lucky there happened to be some good foliage over this spot a few years earlier.

But it's not hailing here. We didn't need the foliage.

You're right. Oh yes, you're right. But you didn't know that, did you? Actually, you know, I'm a little new; oh yes, a little new at this, and there's a weather restriction. But don't despair, I can do anything; oh my goodness yes, anything.

Are you telling me you’ve never done this before? And what's this about the weather?

"Well, I haven't always done it, you know. There are a few things, yes, things I'll have to learn. And to make a time-jump, we'll need a thunder storm; oh my goodness yes, we’ll need lightning. But I can do anything."

All right, if you're so competent, where am I?

You're at the same place you started from; oh my yes, the same place. It's just a few years earlier in time.

How many years earlier? What's the date?

Well, that's another; yes, another thing I'm not quite sure about. We need to do a little research on that.

"What do you mean, we? You’re the one running the show here. I don't have the slightest idea what’s happening. But one thing I do know. A few minutes ago, there was no ugly, crooked, disgusting tree in front of the house and no lethal bushes either. And there never were, as far as I know."

Now dear boy, hurling insults at the beautiful greenery around us is not called for, and it won't help. No, it won't help. You can see what’s happening as clearly as I can. We must concentrate on helpful ideas.

OK, how about reversing the process? Wouldn't that get things back to the way they were?

Well, it's not that easy; oh no, not that easy. No indeed; the problem is, I don't know exactly what I did, you see.

"No, I don't see and I'm sure you can see I'm upset and confused. But if you can 'do anything,' as you say you can, you'd better take me out of here and get me back to where I belong right now."

Now see here, my boy, I don't have to take or get you anywhere; oh my no, anywhere. How do I know 'where you belong'? Just because; yes, just because you were in 2012 when I rescued you doesn't mean you 'belong' there. Also, I'd like to know what you’ve ever done for me. I was minding my own business; oh yes, my own business, when you snatched me and started making demands.

"Hold it just a minute. I 'snatched' you? How do you figure that one?"

"You snatched me when you had your accident; yes, your careless accident, and our bodies became totally enmeshed. And you've left it up to me to get us untangled; oh my goodness yes, untangled."

You're talking nonsense. I didn't have any accident; I was hit by a hailstone.

Did you get hit by the stone on purpose?

"No; of course I didn’t."

Then it was an accident.

"OK, OK; it's unimportant. But for your information I do belong in 2012. That's when the hailstorm occurred. And I don't get this 'our bodies' bit; I wasn't aware that you had a body."

Well, it's none your business, but since we seem to be attached, I might as well tell you. My body is interstitial. I exist in the space between atomic particles. So I share space with millions; oh my goodness yes, millions of bodies made up of atoms.

Then it looks like you would be entangled with other bodies all the time.

It looks that way to you because of interstitial ignorance; oh yes, ignorance. No, it only happened because of that flash of lightning.

Ahah! Then how can you say I snatched you? You're as much at fault for the entanglement as I. And since you claim you’re able to do anything, get us out of this mess; but not before getting me back where I belong. Try a jump to a few months before the 'accident.' Just don't jump to a time after it. I might have been killed by one of those hailstones.

I'm glad you realize that. And you don't seem the least bit grateful to me for saving your life. I'm going to let you think about that for a while. Oh my goodness yes, I'm going to let you think about it before I take you back forward.

Brad didn't feel like he needed to apologize to anyone, but Ozod seemed to be his only hope of getting home. So, reluctantly, he managed to say, OK. OK, I'm thinking about it and I'm grateful to you. Thank you. Please forgive my ignorance. If you could just zap me, or whatever it is you do, back to 2012, it would make me very happy.

Well, that's better! It shouldn’t be that difficult. But first we’ll have to try out a few ideas to see how this thing works.

Wait a minute, wait a minute. I don't want to be part of an experiment. How will I know what to do to get back all in one piece? Will these trials be safe?

Oh yes, dear boy. We'll just take small steps; yes, small steps, to be sure it goes well. Don’t worry; I’ll tell you what to do. Of course, we'll need lightning, and that may be the most difficult part. But first we need to ahh; oh; did you feel that?

No. What?

I think I just got us untangled; oh yes, untangled. So you don't have to worry about me anymore. I'll be on my way.

"Wait, Ozod. Don't leave yet. Let's worry about me. Where are you going? Can't you help me get home first; in small steps? Get me back in any kind of steps. How am I going to get home? Ozod!" Brad was surrounded by silence. Ozod was gone.

The fear that had been hovering at the edge of his consciousness, now spread through him, working its way up to the roots of his hair. Could he possibly get back without Ozod? Actually, could he get back even with Ozod? Maybe he would wake up and discover it was all a dream. But it was too real. It couldn't be a dream.

Chapter 2

Brad sat for a few minutes with a feeling of loneliness he had never known. The electrical storm was over, and the clouds were moving off, uncovering a warm Sunny day. The blackberries looked inviting and he examined one. He popped it into his mouth and realized He was hungry. The Sun was still well up in the sky, but it should be the end of his day.

With a sinking feeling in his chest, he ate a handful of berries, attempting to analyze his predicament. He was lost and confused. Looking around, he tried to reconstruct what had happened. If Ozod was correct, this tree was between where he fell and the wall of his house.

His MGB would be; he looked over his shoulder to the place where the driveway should be; right over there. He was visualizing the hail dents, the broken windshield and the destroyed ragtop. Looking the other way, he should have been looking past Andy's house, down the street to where Jewel lived. But in any direction, the landscape was only rolling hills of prairie grass and trees, mostly scrub oaks.

He looked at his watch, checking it again with the Sun. Then he heard a dog barking. There were also voices and the sound of a hammer. Looking over the top of the tall grass, he could see a man driving a stake into the ground. He had a boy with him, and a dog was jumping playfully on the boy. The dog reminded Brad of the one he had played with as a child.

Wow, Ozod, isn't that a welcome sight? He was hoping to get a response from Ozod. He didn't. But he walked toward the trio, waving his arms vigorously and yelling, Hey there. The man's straw hat fell off, as he dropped his maul, and scrambled to grab a rifle off the ground. He shouted back, competing with the barks of the dog. His voice was almost as high in pitch as Ozod's.

This land's done staked out. He paused, fastening the strap of his bib-overalls, which had come loose as he grabbed the gun. You better get on yer horse and get outa here. He paused again, putting his hat on and turning the brim up in the front. Brad kept walking toward them, as the man continued. There's land south uh here that ain't been took yet.

I'm not looking for land, Brad shouted, with the shotgun on his shoulder, pointing to the rear, and I don't have a horse.

You must be lyin’ Mister. The dog continued to bark fiercely. No one got out here this quick without a horse, unless you started afore the gun, an’ that ain't legal. We started at noon; rode hell bent fer leather from Kickapoo Crossing 'cross 7-mile flats.

The boy emulated the man's stance, trying, unsuccessfully, to turn up the narrow brim of his battered felt hat, as the man continued. When the wagon road turned south, we forded the river'n come west across 9-mile flats; a good twenty mile. And we was the first to get here. The rest of the family's comin' with the wagon and more shootin' irons. So you better get.

Brad kept walking. I don't own a horse, and I need help. I'm from Oklahoma City, and I'm trying to get home.

The man was close enough he no longer had to shout. "I knowed you was lyin’. There ain't no Oklahoma City; it's only been talked about. The folks we was with went south on the Wagon Road. They was goin' to Oklahoma Station; said that's gonna be Oklahoma City, but it ain't, yet. Now you stop right there an' put that gun on the ground, or yo’re gonna get a bullet right through yer middle."

Brad took the shotgun by the barrel and laid it down carefully, realizing Ozod must have jumped him clear back to the days of the land run. Oklahoma Station had to be close to the Brick Town area he was familiar with. So it would be about ten miles south of where he was standing.

I'm alone, Sir. I just meant I'd like to go to where they're talking about building Oklahoma City. I've lost track of time. What day is it? He walked away from his shotgun trying to establish good faith, and the man seemed to relax, lowering the rifle a little.

What's yer name Mister, and where'd you come from?

"I'm Brad Williams, and I was born in Kansas. How I got down here is a mystery to me. I got hit on the head, and