Desperately trying not to panic, John asked his apparent rescuer the obvious question. "Okay, Art, since you already know who I am, what year is this?"

Art looked grim. "It's 2027, and you've already been declared dead by the state of Ohio. Your dorm doesn't have anyone in it that you know, or that knows about you. Thanks to your disappearance and your father's public outcry, however, it now has state of the art security, as does every college dorm in the country. Next question."

Despite Art's grim demeanor, John felt as if Art were pleased about something. "Why am I in a different year every time I wake up?"

The question didn't seem to surprise Art, even though it did seem to amuse his 'associates' greatly. "The technology is complex, but it has to do with the attributes of Stage One sleep in the sleep cycle, and nanotechnology."

"Microscopic robots?" John couldn't help his sarcasm. It was the stuff of science fiction lore, with an emphasis on the fiction. His favorite comic and a popular movie series set in outer space relied on it heavily for lore, character building and comedic value. John just couldn't find it within himself to take Art's explanation seriously. "Blood nannies? Nanite enhancements? Okay then!"

Art's expression changed to that of an annoyed parent whose teen was challenging a long-standing house rule. "Yes, nanotechnology; no, not the fictional kind you're used to!

"Someone implanted them while you weren't aware of it. Nanites are programmed by genetic code, so with a sample of your DNA and a short programming session with a handheld the size of your time's mobile phones, even a handshake can transfer them. They could be on the waistband of your clean clothes or dropped into food. But the 'how' isn't as important as the 'why'."

John disagreed, vehemently! "The 'how' is so important!" he argued immediately. "How do I get when I get and how do I get home again?"

In response, Art scowled thunderously. "It's random, and you don't. Now . . ."

"What?!" John interrupted again. It was rude of him, he knew, but John couldn't help himself. "You're saying that I'm going to do this forever, until I die? Is there any way to stop it and just stay in one place?" Desperation began to take hold.

Art got the 'annoyed parent' look again. "The only way to stop them will probably kill you," he denied. "People aren't designed to withstand that amount of electromagnetic radiation."

John felt himself losing control. "I'd have to microwave myself?" His voice was shrill and he was embarrassed by it

"Or suffer an EM pulse that sends an entire continent back into the dark ages, yeah," agreed Art, seeming amused. The others seemed to be laughing at John, but trying to hide it. John felt a stab of impatience with them. They probably traveled all the time, and were in control of it. He, on the other hand, had no control and was entirely new to more than the vague concept of it. They could have shown at least a little compassion!

God, please! I don't know what to do. John was nearly frantic.

Peace, be still. I Am with you, even to the ends of the ages.

Obediently, John forced himself to calm down. "What's your role in all of this?" he asked Art, willing himself to listen. In order to talk to Art, he had to twist in the seat.

Art smiled, still a little grim. "I did my part, which was to get you away from Eldred, back there. Now that you're safe, I can drop you off somewhere you'll be able to get your bearings. Work for cash and spend what you get, every day."

One of the guys reached over the seat with an empty backpack. "Wear this. Whatever you're wearing when you go to sleep will go with you. Seriously, good luck, Man; you're going to need it."

John thanked him and donned the backpack. It was obviously an inexpensive one, meant for a child to use for school. The character logo made John feel foolish, but what choice did he have? Like one of those role-playing video games, he'd have to upgrade his equipment, he decided.

"So what now?" John asked once the small backpack was as comfortable as possible on John's back.

"We'll take you to Columbus Grove or somewhere," Art decided, naming a nearby town. "That should get you far enough away from Eldred that you'll be safe. The rest is up to you."

"Is Eldred the one responsible for all of this?" John asked, realizing that 'hamburger guy' was named Eldred.

Art nodded. "We can't change what happened to you, but we'll make sure he's stopped from hurting anyone else," he promised. "I just wish we could have stopped him before you were involved."

"Well," John replied thoughtfully, "thank you for what you did do. Seriously, I really appreciate this."

If I have to spend the rest of my life as a vagabond in time, Lord, I'll do it to Your glory!

I will never leave you nor forsake you.

That promise from his Savior bolstered John like nothing else could have. Raised by his Christian father and grandparents, John had always been taught that true faith meant 'denying himself in order to take up his cross and follow Jesus.' Dimly, John had always known that it meant to give up his hopes, dreams and desires for the future in exchange for God's plan for his life. He'd thought that was hard after Becca had died, but right then, as he was faced with the idea of never seeing any traditional future- home, family, career, or even a place in time to call his own- John finally understood.

Love for the God Who would be with him even when all else was removed filled John. As long as he had his Savior, what else would he need, really? He spent the entire ride from Lima to Columbus Grove in silence, reflecting on it.

John decided that his first order of business would be to find a Bible somewhere. That should be the first thing he'd need to put in his 'Power Rangers' backpack! John decided that the adventure he was apparently destined to spend the remainder of his life in would stretch and grow his faith in ways he'd never dreamed possible.

Vaguely, he remembered a few words from a Bible verse that talked about Jesus as the 'Author and Perfecter of our faith' and wished he'd taken the time as a teen to memorize the Bible verses that his youth leader had suggested. If John was going to be in a different time period, with different people and landscapes every single day, he'd need to rely on God's direction and provision like never before! He honestly didn't really think that complete strangers would be willing to offer food and shelter to him the way that Cathleen and Daniel had, without God's help.

Eventually, the van parked alongside the road, across from a triangular-shaped, public park. Art nodded to one of his 'associates', who opened the sliding door. Clearly, John was meant to get out. "Good luck to you, Man," Art told John. "Stick around this park for an hour or so. If we ever figure out how to stop the nanos without killing you, we can come here to find you."

"Thanks, Art, I'll do that. There's a park bench over there. Hopefully, I'll see you soon." John shook Art's hand, thanked him and got out of the van. As the automatic door slid shut and John walked across the quiet street, John thought he heard laughter.

Assuming someone had told a joke, John shrugged it off and took up a spot on the bench he'd mentioned. The park was pretty; low maintenance but functional with trees and flowering bushes dotting the lawn. John figured it would be a nice spot for a mother to rest with some little kids and felt a pang because it looked like he'd never have a wife and little kids of his own. Sorry, Lord. I don't mean to be ungrateful, I really don't. It's peaceful here, so thank You for that.

Seated on a bench in the shade, John began to relax as he took in the quiet little town. He found himself reflecting on his adventures over the previous couple of days and praying for the people he'd met. Given the year, John figured Reggie to be in his mid to late sixties by then. Had his shoulder healed cleanly? And Cathleen and Daniel, they had yet to be born in John's current time location but he also understood that, because God is omnipresent, God would be with them, still. He prayed that Cathleen's heart would be fully healed from her losses. Somewhere in town, off to his left, a clock chimed out the hour as ten o'clock in the morning.

At some point in his musings, John dozed off, because the clock tower's chime awakened him again. His stomach loudly protested its empty state. John crossed the park and looked around. In front of him, a large school parking lot stretched from the street to the building. No children and only a few vehicles proclaimed the summer recess. On the right side of the parking lot, a sidewalk across an alley to another parking lot. The smaller lot appeared to belong to the tall, commanding, brick building beyond, but it was hard to tell through the shrubbery. John decided to take a walk down the street. Perhaps someone had yard work to do, that he could earn enough from for a meal?

Lord, please guide my steps and my words. If I were a homeowner, I wouldn't want some sweat-stink hobo asking for work!

Up the street, just two houses from the park, John reached an intersection. All of the houses he could see were lovely, large and well-groomed, except the large, Victorian-era house immediately to his left. Just as large as its neighbors, the grass was in need of a mower and the ornamental bushes begged some attention.

Reminding his nerves how empty his stomach was, John dared the steps to the front porch, between stately columns that held up a graceful arch. A glider that sat against the opposite half-wall invited one to rest. On either side of the red-framed screen door, stained glass windows extended nearly floor-to-ceiling in their plum-colored frame.

The interior door stood open. A placard beside the brass house number suggested that he should 'please come in,' while another on the opposite side of the door announced hours of operation. John took a deep, fortifying breath and accepted the placard's invitation.

Inside the door, John found himself in a reception room of sorts. The open door of a half-bath stood to his right, while a large wooden desk stood before the only other doorway. A round seating area to his left was made homey by overstuffed chairs with throw pillows, a wicker basket of magazines and several houseplants of varying size. John could imagine someone curling up there with a good book.

Seated behind the desk, a middle-aged woman frowned down at a laptop computer, over a pair of half-glasses tethered to her face by a beaded cord. She didn't appear to have noticed John's arrival, so he cleared his throat after a minute of awkward waiting. Finally, the woman looked up.

"Oh!" she exclaimed. I didn't hear you come in. Do you have an appointment with Reverend?" She tapped on her laptop for a second. "I don't see anyone scheduled."

"No, Ma'am," admitted John. "I don't have an appointment. I, uh, I was wondering if I could . . . possibly earn a few dollars by mowing your lawn?"

"Well now," the woman replied thoughtfully. "That is a bit of an odd request!" She tapped her computer again briefly. "What made you stop in here?" she asked.

John grinned. "You had the longest grass," he answered truthfully.