Thank You, for Matt's jacket! It's tight, but warmer than it looks. John felt a Heavenly grin. Clearly, God had prepared for this already.

John spent the rest of the day hiking downstream, enjoying the nature around him and praying. He alternated random conversation with earnest prayers of intercession on behalf of his family, Matt, Cathleen, Daniel, Art, his coworkers and his roommates. In John's mind, God's omniscience meant that He would be 'every when' as well as everywhere, and would watch over all involved.

As night fell, John made himself as comfortable as possible, pulled the jacket collar up against the heightened chill of evening, drank a hearty 'dinner' from his canteen, and fell asleep, only to awaken under a downpour. Still dark out, John had no choice but to huddle up as best he could for warmth and wait for dawn.

By the time it was light enough to see, John was soaked through and chilled. He forced himself to start walking despite the rain. The sodden terrain made it impossible to walk fast enough to warm up. He spent a miserable day sliding over wet rocks and tripping on roots half-hidden by mud and decomposing leaves. By late afternoon, John was too cold to keep walking. He sank to the ground with his back to a tree and his knees hugged as tight to his chest as he could get them. John rested his head on his knees and shivered.

"Hey, are you okay?" The words barely registered, despite the concern in the feminine voice. Someone touched John's shoulder. He managed to raise his head to look up. "Joe? Honey? Can you go back to the truck and grab that blanket we keep for the dogs?" the woman called over John's head. John didn't hear the answer over the chatter of his teeth. "You better come see!" advised the woman. She fetched out her handheld and touched the screen. "Yes, I'm on the Wildcat Hollow Hiking Trail, and I think I found a lost hiker. He's soaking wet and his lips are blue." She touched John's shoulder again. "What's your name?" she asked, but John was shaking too hard to answer. "He doesn't know . . . Yes, near Route Fifty-Eight. I'll have my husband flag down the ambulance." 

The woman put her handheld away and draped a blanket around John and over his head. It settled over his body, conserving his meager heat. Eventually, someone removed the blanket and tipped him over to lay on a canvas stretcher. He did his best to stretch out on it, as asked, then understood himself to be carried but was too cold to pay much attention. Warmth seemed a long way off.

At some point, someone stripped off his wet clothing in order to wrap him in warmed blankets. Cocooned in heat, his tremors eventually subsided enough for him to sit up and sip at a warmed beverage and to respond to questions. He gave his name and birthdate, but didn't know the year or the president. His birthday made the staff of whatever facility he was in exchange glances.

Finally, a white-coated professional with a stethoscope draped around his shoulders stood beside the gurney John was laying on. "The year is 2442 and you are at the Ohiohealth Urgent Care Center in Nelsonville, Ohio. Can you give me your birth date again, please?"

Knowing he wouldn't be believed, John answered truthfully anyway, making the man blink. "I see; would you care to elaborate? You certainly don't look four hundred and forty-four years old."

With a chuckle, John told his story. "If you call the DTD and ask them to send Matt Eldred, he can sort the whole thing out," he finished.

"I'll make a note in your chart, but that's about all I can do," the doctor replied with regret. "Since you're a reported time refugee, I have to send you to Columbus, to the Ohio Hospital for Psychiatry." He looked at John for a moment, surely seeing the defeat John felt. "I'm sorry," the doctor offered quietly. "It's standard protocol; I could be censured if I break it. I promise though, it's not as bad as it sounds. Um, your belongings are still wet, so you'll have to go in scrubs. I made sure your things were put in cloth sacks though, so they don't get too mildewed before you can get them dried out."

"At least I'm not going in a gown," John managed to grin up at the doctor, "so thank you for that." He was determined to be thankful for his blessings and leave the rest to God. What else could he do?

Startled, the doctor cleared his throat. "You're welcome. I'll have the nurses give you a hand." As he left the room, he pulled out a handheld, apparently to do as he'd said.

John watched him disappear and wondered if he should follow suit. He decided against disappearing. Art was out there still. John would be safer where he was, surrounded by people.

The hour-long ride from the hospital to the psych hospital had John on edge at first, as he remembered the traitorous driver that had handed him over to Art. He prayed earnestly for the entire hour's ride, repenting of his fear, praying for Matt and everyone else he'd met over the previous week of his adventure.

At the psychiatric center, John was pleasantly surprised to find that the P-Wing was designed as a large, group home. He was assigned to a small suite of rooms that boasted not only his bedroom and a private bath, but a sitting room as well. The kitchenette, dining room, exercise and lounge areas were shared by almost twenty people who were classed as 'time refugees'. Counseling was available to anyone who requested it, but wasn't mandatory.

"You're not mentally ill, after all," explained the staff member who showed him his room. "It's just that we can't keep you safe, out in the general public."

She pointed to a handheld that rested on the coffee table of his sitting room. "The facility provides free access to all media from the archives and every streaming service available. You may read any book or watch whatever you want, but there is no communications function; no internet or person-to person capability." John only nodded. He wasn't sure what he'd expected from the infamous P-Wing, but he wasn't surprised by the isolation. 

At dinner, John met his fellow refugees. Aside from Maddy, an, elderly woman who'd been 'murdered' by her adult children eager for their inheritance, all of them were men of a certain type. All had been involved in organized crime in one form or another, all 'murdered' by rivals.

Though very much alive, they all referred to their time travel experiences as their deaths. Because of his age, time period of origin, and lack of criminal history, John found himself to be something of a celebrity among them. Even Maddy was fascinated by his story.

After dinner, everyone spent time in the largest of the lounge areas. They took turns choosing something to watch, played games and chatted amongst themselves. No one retreated to spend time alone until a staff member suggested it to be bedtime. Having found his Bible to be miraculously dry beyond the cover, John brought it out to the lounge to read. It was the only printed volume most had ever seen, so no one complained when John began to read it aloud.

In all, John found that life was very pleasant in the P-Wing. He was rather surprised to learn that the 'P' stood for 'protected', until the nurse explained that technology had been incorporated within all the walls to prevent nanotechnology from operating. The residents could live free from fear that an assassin would jump in to kill them.

For five years, John lived in the P-Wing. Daily, he prayed for his family and for each person he'd met because of Art's misdeed. He prayed even for Art as he prayed for Matt's success in stopping Art. From the first, John ministered to his fellow, protected residents and even the staff. Through his prayers, love, and teaching, most eventually found a saving faith in Jesus.

The staff took to calling him 'Doctor John' because he spent so much time counseling housemates in their faith and helping them to reconcile their former lives with newfound faith. Each morning started with voluntary prayer, Bible study and worship at the dining room table before breakfast. Not all of the residents attended, but neither were they looked down on by the rest.

It was at a morning prayer time that John received an unexpected visit. He'd concluded the group's 'round robin' prayer time when a familiar voice added his 'amen'. John looked up, shocked to see Matt standing with tears in his eyes. "Thank God, you're here!" Matt said. John stood up and was surprised when Matt wrapped him in a big, bear hug. It was returned with enthusiasm.

"How did you find me? I asked them to contact you, but . . ."

"But they had you down as 'Jean Kahill.'" Matt chuckled wryly. "I got desperate, so desperate that I asked Cathleen to pray. Long story short, eventually, I accepted Christ and He led me here!" From behind John, a chorus of 'amens' sounded enthusiastically from the faithful.

John laughed for sheer joy and couldn't stop smiling. "God answered my prayers then! I've been praying for you from the hour Art got hold of me." He stopped to study his friend. Matt had aged over the five years. Around thirty, there were stress lines on his brow and around his mouth.

Matt tried to smile, but it faded quickly. "Wait here, I'll be right back." John watched him walk through a door forbidden to the residents.

* * *

At the psychiatric center, John was pleasantly surprised to find that the P-Wing was designed as a large, group home. He was assigned to a small suite of rooms that boasted not only his bedroom and a private bath, but a sitting room as well. The kitchenette, dining room, exercise and lounge areas were shared by almost twenty people who were classed as 'time refugees'. Counseling was available to anyone who requested it, but wasn't mandatory.

After dinner, everyone spent time in the largest of the lounge areas. They took turns choosing something to watch, played games and chatted amongst themselves. No one retreated to spend time alone until a staff member suggested it to be bedtime. Having found his Bible to be miraculously dry beyond the cover, John brought it out to the lounge to read. It was the only printed volume most had ever seen, so no one complained when John began to read it aloud.

Just as the night nurse was suggesting a bed time, the secure door burst open. John jumped to his feet when Matt entered the room. "John! Thank God you're here!"

"Matt!" 

To John's shock, Matt threw his arms around him for a bear hug that John was happy to return. "You don't know how good it is to see you," Matt murmured before he released John.

"You look terrible!" John blurted. Matt appeared to be five years older, with deepened stress lines and a haggard expression.

"I'm better now that I found you," Matt assured him. "I've only had five hundred years to search through. Come on, get your stuff. We have to get you home!"

"Excuse me!" demanded the night nurse.

Matt flashed his badge. "Agent Matthew Eldred, DTD; this man is a critical source-point in time. If we don't get him back where he belongs in time, our entire civilization will descend into chaos. In the week that he's been gone, the timeline has altered for seventy-five percent of Ohioans and fifteen percent of the entire nation, including the capitol."

John was shocked when the burly man turned pale and backed down. "My apologies, Agent. I'll call Doctor Howard right away."

"Tell him to come to the main entrance; if we're still here, I'll sign John out." Matt's tone turned hard. "And next time, verify the spelling! His name was so badly misspelled on the intake roster submitted to the DTD, we almost didn't find him at all." Matt turned back to John. "Let's get you out of here."