Chapter 3: The Unexpected

The world turned upside down overnight. Nothing looked familiar to Clint. As he rotated in a circle, there stood a forest as far as he could see. The organizers took a huge section of land, cleared it and made it an almost flat parcel with a gentle up-slope at the Western edge. Now trees pushed in close to a small glade that held their campsite. Both tents still stood, with the rain-soaked fire ring between them.

The sky looked a more brilliant blue with white fluffy clouds gently floating through the atmosphere. Nowhere in the sky could Clint make out the usual contrails of the passing jet airliners, nor did he spot any of the plethora of general aviation planes that he spotted yesterday.

An oak tree still stood between their tents, but its appearance didn’t show the venerable old gnome where they camped. This one appeared to be a young, immature oak. He noticed an ember glowing in a gash on the side of the tree that still smoldered. The tree stood tall and straight otherwise. Clint stood in the middle of that tiny clearing surrounded by other similar trees. Happy little animals in the underbrush made their presence known as they chittered amongst themselves.

“Wa... , what happened?” A small, quivering voice broke the silence.

“I don’t think that we’re in Kansas anymore,” Clint exclaimed. He protectively hugged the shivering, frightened girl to his side. As the tears flowed freely down her beautiful face, Clint held her close, comforting her as best he could. He knew that it scared her and he frankly was too. Later, as Janie calmed, they looked around the campsite together and nothing appeared the same except for the fire ring that Clint made yesterday. They looked in Clint’s tent and found nothing amiss. It appeared as they left it. Janie’s tent hadn’t changed, either. They made the circuit around the small clearing and discovered a faint trail leading east. Clint remembered the parking lot had been east of the campsite and the town south of that over gently rolling hills. His best estimate said that they had a walk of just over three miles to town.

“Oh, look” Janie whispered as she gripped Clint’s arm. She pointed to movement across the small clearing. They saw a deer there in the grass making its way along the far side. It hadn’t seen the couple since they stood downwind from the doe. They both stood motionless and silent until the deer re-entered the woods opposite them.

Their first order of business turned out to be food. “Look,” Janie pointed to the woodpile. “It’s soaked. How are we supposed to cook with the wood soaked as it is?”

“Never fear! I was a Boy Scout. I’m prepared,” Clint chuckled at his reply. He slipped into his tent and brought his propane camp stove and propane bottle out. “I’ll have this going in a minute. Bring the food out!”

He got the stove going and their coffee and a pot of oatmeal was soon ready to eat. Janie contributed the precooked bacon, some cinnamon and sugar for the oatmeal, and a couple bottles of orange juice. They discussed what they thought happened as they ate.

“What the heck happened to us?” she queried. “I’ve never felt anything like what went on last night, and look at the tree behind the tents. It looks like lightning struck it, too.”

They couldn’t explain why the tree looked similar but different. It clearly showed evidence of only one strike, and a recent one at that. Clint told her about seeing glowing embers in the gash. Its circumference also appeared smaller, making it a younger tree.

“I think that it hit this tree at the same time as the one at our campsite,” he theorized. “I just don’t know what to think. There’s something strange going on here.

“What happened?” Janie asked again, not hearing his comment. “There is something terribly wrong with this.”

With a shrug of his broad shoulders Clint replied. “My grasp of Physics is rather thin, but I’d say that we are the victim of a temporal displacement of an unknown magnitude from my reading on Kindle Unlimited. There must be some kind of connection between the lightning and the transfer.”

The true meaning of his response was clear to her. Clint only knew what she did. He was just as scared, too. He stood and got ready to leave.

“We’d better prepare for the worse,” he advised. “Load the guns up with live ammunition. We can’t take any chances with what’s happening now.”

Janie was checking her own weapons while he was getting prepared. She ejected the blanks in her revolver and loaded it with live shells. She also loaded her Winchester; its tubular magazine was full by the time Clint emerged from the tent. She eyed him and saw him in a new light. Janie knew for a fact that this man was a real keeper and was positive that he would love her and protect her from harm. Clint had showed that last night when he protected her from the lightning without taking advantage of her. She was in love.

“Wait a minute.” Clint had an afterthought.

He ducked into his tent for a minute. He returned wearing a tan leather vest and a black, flattop, straight brim, hat a moment later. The band around the hat appeared like he made it of gold coins. Janie and the rest of the world didn’t know that they were all genuine single eagle gold coins from the 1860s. The quick draw shoulder holster that held the backup Colt, also in 44-40 caliber, was under his vest. Uncertain about the future, Clint wanted to be ready.

“Wow!” Janie exclaimed. “How long did it take to put that hat band together? I’m guessing that those are real.”

“Yes, they’re real,” Clint replied. “I took a few years making this. I bought coins one or two at a time as the money came available. Got them from the Gold Exchange in Liberal when I could.”

“Well, I guess I’m as ready as I’ll ever be. Are you set to go?” Clint prepared to set out, waiting for Janie to start.

With a broad smile on her face, she nodded in the affirmative and they started off down the trail. They casually carried their rifles, but were watchful for anything that might impede their way. They had walked about three hundred yards through the dense forest before the trail opened out on to a dirt road. To call it a road was ridiculous. It was more like two ruts spaced a few feet apart. Clint had seen roads like this when he’s worked on his uncle’s farm.

Janie was in the lead and Clint called out to her, “Wait up a sec, Hon. I want to mark the trail so that we can return later. Just like they taught us in Scouts when I was a kid.”

Janie’s butterflies flipped about in her stomach at his reference to her in the familiar reference she’d heard lovers use.

Clint took the wicked-looking Bowie knife from the sheath attached to his belt and carved an X on two of the trees to be sure that they could find their way back. He placed one on either side of the path. Janie noticed the sharpness of the knife and the ease of cutting the knife exhibited. He kept it honed to razor sharpness. Once Clint was certain he would recognize the way, they turned down the road heading South towards where the town should be. The woods thinned out after a half-mile and farmland replaced the woods. A herd of cattle contentedly grazed in the morning sun off in the distance.

“We must be closer to civilization,” Janie remarked. “There’s a herd of cattle off in the distance. It looks like there is a bunch of milk cows in the herd, too.”

Clint nodded at her comment, agreeing with the observation. They passed a house, but no one was around, so they continued walking.

They spied the quaint little town as they topped a small rise after walking about an hour. It lay in a depression in the ground that you couldn’t really call a valley.

“What the hell is going on here,” he exclaimed. “Look, the town!”

Janie replied “Goodness, it’s all changed! The town is so small now. I can see all the buildings from this hilltop.”

It was no longer the bustling, small town metropolis they had each driven through yesterday. The town looked like it came from an Eastwood movie. Wooden buildings lined up in neat rows, but there seemed to be only a few streets between them. Those dirt streets were not the familiar pavement streets of their present.

He looked over at Janie. Her mouth hung open in shock and awe, a tear streaming down her cheek. Clint could see her body shivering again and he rushed to her side to hold her close. A water tower stood next to a long building in the distance at the far end of town. Beside it were two iron rails stretching off into the distance in either direction. The railroad made it to this town. The purpose of the water tower was to replenish the steam locomotive’s boiler.

“Look there,” Clint pointed for Janie from their vantage point overlooking the town. “There are horse-drawn carts, wagons, and buggies, but I don’t see a single car or truck. No, not one modern mode of transportation there. As Alice would say it’s ‘curiouser and curiouser’!”

This tranquil scene reminded Clint of the western movies that he liked to binge on with Netflix. The Duke was one of his all-time favorite actors. One of John Wayne’s quotes came to his mind as he looked ahead. ‘Life is tough, but it’s tougher when you’re stupid.’ Janie and he must be watchful now. Stupid could be fatal.

“Now I’m darn sure that we’re not in Kansas anymore,” Clint quipped. Janie slapped his shoulder as an admonishment, but giggled all the same.

They had started out again when they heard the pounding of hooves behind them. The pair turned just in time as a band of four men on horses, wearing dusters, were bearing down on them as they raced toward the town.

“Look out!” Clint shouted as he yanked Janie hard off to the side of road, embracing her as the horses thundered by, the hooves throwing up a cloud of dust in their wake. Janie’s heart was pounding at the sudden fright and she welcomed his shielding arms.

“What the heck is going on?” Janie pulled herself closer to Clint. “Why did they try to run us down?”

“I suppose anything is possible if you consider what we’ve been through the last 24 hours,” he replied. “They must be a bunch of assholes.”

Janie had collapsed to the ground because of the scare and Clint helped her to her feet again. They stepped back on to what passed for a road and walked. The ten-minute walk brought them to the main street of the small town. Sure enough, all the buildings were wooden. There was a boardwalk in front of the stores and the main street extended five blocks. Back streets filled with houses instead of businesses. The town was busy with people working. Ladies in prairie dresses strolled along the boardwalk, entering the shops or carrying their purchases along. Men were conducting business both inside and outside the stores and shops. The sharp, ringing sound of metal striking on an anvil reverberated through the air somewhere off down the street.