A/N: Okay, here's where it gets progressively wierd.

Ch. 9

Young Goodman John

One Week Later...

Teyla wiped the sweat from her face with the towel then tossed it onto the bench by her sticks. She dropped herself down on the other side and grabbed the bottle of water on the floor. She loved the convenience of bottles, reusable like canteens, but without the hindering bulk. These earth people were quite adept at simplifying. As she proceeded to unscrew the cap, Elizabeth walked in. Teyla smiled up at her.

" Dr. Weir."

" Teyla. Thought I'd find you here. Where's John?"

Teyla took a short swallow of water before replying. " He went to his quarters to bathe and rest. Practice went longer today."

Weir beamed. " And that's a good thing, right?"

Teyla pressed her lips in a straight, ponderous line. " I do not know." She took another sip. She was reluctant to elucidate. As much as she knew there was probably plenty of reason to worry about him, she didn't want that concern to spawn words that might get John into ill standing with Beckett on matters of health. Or Kate in matters of mental health.

" What do you mean?" Weir asked, much to Teyla's chagrin.

She screwed the cap back onto the bottle. " He may – though I am not certain – be pushing himself."

" Well, that's just John. You know how he is."

Teyla nodded. " I do. And I know Dr. Beckett will not be too happy to hear of it."

Elizabeth shrugged. " I doubt anything Beckett says or does will slow John down. As long as he doesn't over exert himself..."

" Oh, I do not let him. I ended the session when I noticed his hands were shaking. But he is improving. He did not wear as quickly as with previous sessions. His strength has most definitely increased." She paused for a moment, thinking over passed and recent sparrings.

" He's quieter," she said, mostly out of observation than concern. " He says very little before and after matches. He comes, we practice, then he leaves." What she didn't say was how uneasy it made her feel. She actually missed hearing his excuses for why he never practiced, and the occasional nonsensical comments he made in hopes of distracting her. Silence and a blank, expressionless face – they were unnatural attributes to have for John. Even when he wasn't talking he was at least supposed to be smiling.

Teyla looked directly at Elizabeth. " It has been days since Lt. Mathers' remains were sent back to earth. Do you think what happened is still troubling John?"

Elizabeth folded her arms loosely. " Perhaps. Personally I think John's just worried. He's been doing a lot of fine-tooth combing over security and safety protocols. Listen, Teyla, the reason I came wasn't just to ask about John. That is part of it, but I also wanted to know – personally from you – how things have been going on Sriot."

Sriot, one of the few worlds where trading endeavors went off without a hitch. The Sriotians were advanced enough for their own liking not to slobber, drool, and backstab over the devices Atlantis had. Weapons they didn't need. When culling time came – as it had before the wraith descended on Atlantis – the Sriotians went to underground caves beneath the mountains where generators hid their life signs. Basically, they literally disappear. And they had plenty of these generators to go around, one of which would soon grace Atlantis once Beckett brought requested vaccines. Sriot had been having trouble with a disease Dr. Beckett had said was very similar to an Earth sickness called the measles, and a slight altercation of the earth vaccine was all that was needed.

The vaccine was ready for the Sriotians to duplicate and manufacture. It was to be delivered tomorrow in exchange for the generator.

" Very well," Teyla said. " We have been invited to a feast, some food is also part of the trade, and there as been no disputes. Not that I would expect disputes from a Sriotian, not unless they had absolute reason. From my own experience, dealing with the Sriotians is – I suppose you could say – very pleasant. I actually look forward to visiting their world. Always have."

Elizabeth nodded thoughtfully. " Good. Because I was thinking that tomorrow when you go, John should come with you – if he's up to it. Not to lead and/or head negotiations; just, you know, as a visitor. Like a small vacation. I don't think remaining couped up in Atlantis is going to speed up his recovery. He needs to get out, move around, scratch the itch to get off-world."

Teyla grinned. " I agree. Sriot would be a good world for him to visit. It is very beautiful."

Elizabeth looked to the floor as she shifted her weight back and forth from one foot to the other. " The thing is," she said haltingly, " you'll need to keep an eye on him." She stilled and looked at Teyla. " We don't know how he'll react to being off-world. I know not violently, but Dr. Heightmeyer was rather hesitant about the idea of John stepping foot out of Atlantis. She sees no harm in it, but if he starts to show signs of agitation or extreme stress, she wants him brought back as soon as possible. If not, he can stay however long he wants to."

" I understand," Teyla said. She understood more than Elizabeth probably realized. As Dr. McKay put it, stepping off-world was no longer 'a picnic'. There had been concern enough as it was with wraith and Genii. Now they had – what was the odd term McKay had used? - 'Alien Nazis wanna-bes' to worry about.

" Thank you Teyla. Oh, but don't tell John of our little discussion. You know he hates it when he thinks he's being baby-sat. Or – knows – he's being baby-sat."

Teyla smiled. " It will be kept between us."

SGASGASGASGA

Elizabeth watched the gate flush to life in a roar of crystal liquid. When it congealed, she nodded the go ahead. Lorne was the first to step through, followed by Ronon, Rodney, Teyla, Beckett, five soldiers and last but certainly never least, John.

He was last for a reason. As soon as he stepped up to the gate to be one foot away from going through, he stopped. Elizabeth frowned. The expression of trepidation on his face was like that of a child about to step into the doctor's office for a booster shot. He just stood there, staring, and nervous indecision melted away until John's face was utterly blank with eyes glazed over. Second thought badgered Elizabeth, escalating into screams against her inactivity.

He's not ready.

She could almost imagine the insane pounding of his heart. It had to be hammering the way his face had drained of color. Even from where she stood, Elizabeth could see him gripping his P-90 tight enough to break it – or to break his own hand.

Elizabeth touched the radio at her ear. " John? Remember, you don't have to go. You're not obligated too..."

John took that final step and vanished within the interstellar liquid.

Weir Grimaced. " Never mind."

Second thought brooded at the back of her mind, but wouldn't go away.

John needs this.

You sure about that?

SGASGASGASGA

John stepped out into a field, a beautiful, emerald, right out of The Sound of Music hill. The grass didn't even come up past the rim of his boots, and the layout was patched with clusters of bright flowers swaying in a cool breeze. The temperature was a mild seventy something – John surmised – the sky was clear say for patchy clouds, the sun was bright, birds were singing and insects a cross between dragonflies and butterflies hovered from plant to plant.

John's ears strained for the sound of a singing nun. The place was perfect to the point that he almost wanted to vomit. Because – what was it about perfection? - there was no such thing.

A hand clasped John on the shoulder and he jumped, snapping his head around to stare into Rodney's face.

" Took you long enough," he said. " Over the river and through the woods... Well, actually just over the hill. A couple of hills. Not a bad walk though, really."

The gate rushed close behind John and he shivered. Not that he could have turned heel and jumped back through against an outgoing wormhole, but something about it vanishing felt so – finalized.

Rodney kept pace with Sheppard as they followed the rest up the gradual incline. At the top, John could see the snow-capped peak of distant blue mountains. Two more hills were scaled, and John was thankful for all the extra sparring with Teyla and runs with Ronon. Even so, he still suffered heavy breathing more so than the rest, even Rodney, which did little for his pride.

Like John cared. Pride had been taking a back seat, mostly because he didn't want to deal with it.

" Hey, you okay?" Rodney asked. John looked at him. Rodney feigned indifference, but concern was betrayed in the way the physicist wouldn't stop staring at him.

To conserve breath, John nodded.

Rodney snorted derisively. " Yeah, and I'm Mother Tereasa."

" Not by a long shot, McKay," John had to say.

Rodney smirked approvingly. " A little more convincing. Look, just don't be fooled by your own macho crap and refuse to tell us when you need a break. It's not going to kill you to speak up, although it might kill you if you don't."

" I'm just a little out of shape," John said.

" Out of shape? You have no shape. You're like a... a... stick, a perfect stick. One of those chimney sweeps, the kind out of Dickens... or Mary Poppins..."

" Oh don't even go there!" John snapped. " Dickens I can handle, but no freakin' Disney flicks."

" What, you've got issues with Disney?"

" No, I've got issue with being compared to happy, singing, dancing chimney sweepers who have no idea they're lives are going to end painfully from black lung."

Rodney's head reared back in surprise. " Wow. Hate to say it, but you're starting to sound like me."

John glared at the back of the soldier in front of him. " Well ain't that just peachy."

Rodney slapped John lightly on the back, careful of the ribs that were fused but still tender. " Well, don't worry about it, because I'm going to give you advice straight out of the psalms of Sheppard. 'Think positive'."

John winced as though the words hurt – and they did. Too many bad memories in just those two words. The reaction didn't go unnoticed.

" Um, I know I asked this, but you okay?"

John shook his head dismissively. " Yeah, it's just... yeah."

Rodney scrutinized John, then pulled two Power bars from the pocket of his vest, handing one to Sheppard.

" You need it just as much as me."

John took the offered bar, despite having his own to gnaw on whenever. " Thanks. Just... do me a favor. Any women come singing over that hill, knock me out and drag me back to the gate. I'm liable to go postal."

Rodney snorted. " And I'd probably back you up."

Three more hills, and the team ascended the top of the final measly slope to stand before something far less gradual and a longer ways down. The view had John's eyes going round. They were looking into a valley, green and flower-patched, with a small town comfortably clustered within the center. Sound of Music Time again, the place was picturesque. Cottages with tiled roofs, cobbled streets, and even a bell tower within the middle of the building cluster. The mountains began on the other side of the valley, as well as a forest. That forest stretched to the horizon from east to west, thickest in the east where the trees were taller and more pact, from what John could tell.

The team descended the hill into the valley, coming to a pact dirt road winding to the town. They kept to the side of the road as behind them a man in a wagon being pulled by what looked to be a cross between Snuffelufugus and a horse trundled by. The Sriotians really did like to keep things simple. The man dipped his head in greeting at the Atlanteans.

" Morrow," he said. In one hand he held the reins guiding the beast, in the other a small pad akin to a life-signs detector. The contrast was mind reeling.

Though from the hilltop the town looked compacted together, closer inspection revealed the buildings to be spaced apart with room enough for wagons to go anywhere between the buildings.

Everything in the town was just so – quaint. John hated to use the word, but it fit perfectly. Painted trestles and gables, flower boxes, diamond-paned windows, and a Dutch design were the structures of the town of Gen. The women wore bright, modest dresses, some with cloaks made from a kind of shimmering material like silk. The men wore suits either tan, dark blue, or brown, while those of a militeristic profession - the Guardians – wore dark-blue uniforms like cops only without the badges. The time period could have been 19th or early 20th century, except for the bits and pieces of technology here and there.

The Guardians carried small hand guns that could interchange between bullets or incapacitating darts, or so John had heard. They also sported head-set radios similar to what the team wore now, only a mite larger. A woman watering the flowers in a flower box passed a kind of scanner over them, plucking out wriggling worms and other creepy-crawlers. Lining the cobble-stone pavement were street lamps, and the locks on the doors looked to be the kind requiring either key-cards, hand-print, or eye-scan identification.

The technology really had to be looked for within the masses of simple folk, riding in wagons, taking strolls – pretty much doing just about everything the naked eye could see the old fashioned way. Then came the kid with the electronic game, or the owner of a vegetable wagon taking inventory on a data pad similar to a miniature laptop

Welcome to the screwed up century, John thought. At least no one was looking at them funny.

John assumed them to be heading somewhere toward the center of town, but never proved the assumption true when they were met halfway. A short, thick bodied man in a dark, tan suit casually walking along the street slowed, gaped, then hurried forward.

" Miss Teyla, Mr. Lorne. And I'm assuming this must be the venerable Dr. Beckett," The man said, and bowed his head.

" Aye, that'd be me," Beckett said. " You must be Mr. Cres then."

Cres smiled brightly. " I am. Mentel Cres, assistant to Jek Grieg. He's expecting you, has been for some time, but is practically dancing about it today. Glad I ran into you, he'll be quite taken you've arrived. And with the medications we hope?"

Carson lifted a small, metal suitcase. " Aye, all right here. Synthesizin' shouldn't be too much of a hassle. You'll be inoculatin' in no time."

Cres chuckled. " Wonderful! I must say, though – if you don't think me blunt – you have an unusual way of speaking. What world are you from?"

Becket jerked his thumb over his shoulder. " Same as this lot. It's common, where we come from."

Cres nodded, then turned his gaze to the rest of the group. " Miss Teyla, everyone, make yourselves at home. I'm told trade finalization is to be at the dinner. Come Mr. Beckett, this way."

Carson held up a finger. " Oh, one moment if you would."

To John's alarm, Beckett made his way to the back of the group. He stopped two feet from John, and glared at him.

" Need you be remindin', John?"

John rolled his eyes. " No mother."

" Say it, then."

John sighed, then ticked of with his fingers, " Rest, food, no over exertion. Happy?"

Beckett smirked. " Aye. Rodney, make sure he sticks by it."

Now it was Rodney doing the eye-roll. " I'm not his mother."

" Too bad. He goes down," Carson said, pointing at John, then moved his finger to point at Rodney, " you go with him."

With that said, Carson turned and followed Cres.

To John's alarm, none of the soldiers went with him.

" Is that wise?" John asked.

" What?"

" For Carson to go unaccompanied like that. Shouldn't someone go with him?"

Rodney shrugged. " Never been a problem before."

John was all ready with an order for someone to follow Beckett, when the group began to disperse, driving home the reminder that John was not in charge, not by a long shot. It irked him a lot more than he thought it would.

" You know, just a thought, but it might not be safe having everyone wander around by themselves."

Rodney threw his head back and let out a sharp breath of exasperation. " Colonel, will you relax. This place is like one theme-park ride away from being the happiest place on earth. "

" Dr. McKay is correct," Teyla said. She and Ronon had remained. " It is quite safe. The Sriotians are very open. As you can see, they have allowed us to keep our weapons. They trust us, and have shown reason to be trusted themselves. They are good people."

" Yeah, they are," John said. " But you never know who might pop up. Wraiths, Genii... Cys."

Teyla gave him a reassuring smile. " Colonel, we are safe here. The Sriotians are quite adept at handling danger. They know of the Genii and have no care for them. They have not even heard of the Cyladrans."

" Wish that went double for us," Rodney murmured, rubbing the cast still on his arm.

" Come with us," Teyla said, " you will see."

They wandered the streets of Gen, meeting nothing but a friendly face. They passed shops selling food, clothes, devices, tools, and toys. At one point they were accosted by a group of children firing a barrage of garbled questions at them, only to run off squealing in delight when Ronon growled at the,

" They don't seem to get what it means when I do that," Ronon grunted. The runner didn't seem any happier to be here than John. Then again, the man was never particular to any place that they went to.

They stopped at a vendor and traded chocolate bars for a prismatic fruit that tasted like strawberry and kiwi. It was good stuff, not too sweet, and not even close to bitter. John sat on a nearby bench between the display window and entrance to a shop. The moment he dropped onto the bench, he realized it was going to be a while before he got up again. He arched his back until it popped, then stretched his legs out in front, crossing one foot over the other.

Sitting had become too much of a pleasure than it should have been. But like hell John wasn't going to enjoy it. He ate his fruit and observed the people going by as Ronon, Teyla, and Rodney stood doing the same.

John had to admit, it was nice not to be in a town where everyone snubbed you – then betrayed you.

A young girl in a green dress and amber cloak stepped from the store, standing just outside the threshold. In her hands was a woven basket she was rummaging through. Something fell out, a package wrapped in paper and string. She didn't even notice as she started to move on. John leaned over and grabbed the package.

" Hey, miss?"

The girl stopped and turned. Her age appeared to be around eleven or twelve, her face oval, her dark brown hair straight and tied in a pony-tail, and her eyes a deep brown.

Oddly enough, something about her face didn't register the girl as being twelve. Or maybe it was the eyes, which regarded John with an air of such melancholy seriousness that John immediately wondered if someone had just recently died in her family – someone close. At least that was what the expression made him think.

" You dropped it," he explained with a slight smile.

" Thank you sir," she said, taking the package and placing it in the basket. Her lips twitched a ghost of a smile, and she cast her gaze to the ground as she started to turn.

" You all right?" John couldn't help asking. Her head shot up, and her eyes scrutinized him a lot more closely, and much more deeply. Whatever it was she was seeing in him, it seemed to satisfy her when her visage softened and her next smile was less forced.

" Yes, I'm fine, sir," she said, curtsied, and left with amber cloak billowing and shimmering out behind her.

John sat back against the wall and sighed. Rodney plopped himself down in the space beside John. The scientist crossed his casted arm over his chest to rest the elbow of his other arm on as he finished off the fruit.

" Liking it here yet?" Rodney asked between bites.

John closed his eyes. " Sure, why not."

" That's not a definitive answer."

" Nope."

" Come on, Colonel, enjoy it. Weather's good, people aren't trying to shoot us, no wraith darts and wraiths trying to suck us dry. Live in the moment, carpe diem - seize the day... stuff like that." He took another bite, squirting juice onto Sheppard's jaw.

" Sorry," he mumbled, chewing. John just wiped the juice off with the cuff of his jacket. He opened his eyes to observe the people, and felt discomfort crawl up his spine like it was a ladder.

" Ever read Young Goodman Brown? Seeing as how you seem literate Savvy I thought..."

" Colonel, I doubt these people practice Satanic rituals in the woods... or any devil/bad deity worshipping for that matter."

John, frustrated, tilted his head back until his skull touched the wall. " That's not what I meant, McKay. I'm just saying that was a happy little town too until Brown took a stroll."

" Colonel, I've been to this world plenty of times to know these people aren't up to anything or hiding anything..."

" How long had Teyla known the Genii?"

" That's different."

" How?"

Silence. John opened his eyes to see Rodney's jaw working without a response. John couldn't help a satisfied smirk.

" See?"

Rodney glared at John. " That's not fair. Trust me, Colonel, if these people were up to something we would have seen it by now. It usually doesn't take a couple of days to rear their ugly heads if they have one. You can't go dumping immediate negative judgments on people. It's rude."

John let out a long breath so that his chest deflated. " Yeah, it is. But you see where I'm coming from, right? If it isn't the people that's the problem, it's something else on the planet. There's just... always something. And it's not like it's always bad. I mean Chaya wasn't bad... Right?" John stared pointedly at Rodney until the physicist shifted.

Rodney looked at his fruit, finding it suddenly interesting. " Well, she did hold back on us..."

" But she wasn't bad," John growled.

Rodney looked up, but not at John, as he internally struggled, probably for something contrite to say. Finally, he relented. " No, she wasn't. She saved our lives... and, I guess that's saying something."

" Thank you," John said. " But getting back to the point, there's always something catching us off guard. And, if you must know, I do find this a nice place, and honestly hope it stays that way."

" Then why not let yourself enjoy it?"

" Because I can't!"

" Why not!"

John didn't respond to that. Why not indeed? Because it would be the same as letting his guard down? Probably, and following that was when the big bang surprises always came.

Rodney stared at John in growing disbelief. " You don't know how, do you?"

John wanted to suddenly shrink away out of existence. He chanced a small glance at Rodney, but rather than seeing wide-eyed incredulity, John saw – to his astonishment – only sympathy.

John looked away. Rodney understood, even though he seemed to be trying to deny it.

" If it's any consolation," John said. " It's not like my heart's trying to pound out a thousand beats per minute. Actually, it's going at quite a normal rate, one even Beckett would be happy with."

Rodney, sucking the juice from the remainder of the fruit, shrugged. " Hey, it's a start."

SGASGASGASGA

The 'dinner' following a successful first synthesizing of the vaccine was a much bigger shin-dig than anticipated, mostly because it was on the same day as Helian Moon (which, from what the team could fathom was some kind of spring-time celebration before crops are planted.) Dining was held outside on the outskirts of the town, either in the fields, on blankets or at tables. The Atlantean's hosts – Grieg and the Town's head Lord Chancellor Marvis – held their feast on the south-east end of the outskirts where four long tables had been dragged, surrounded by fifteen chairs.

The food was pleasantly palatable, with meat, fruit, and funny-colored vegetables that tasted fine. But there was something about eating blue squash that made the stomach want to retaliate. Only Ronon and Rodney were completely indifferent.

Marvis held a toast. The usual " to our new acquaintanceship" deal. Everyone raised a glass in response, then raucous conversation returned. Out in the open field, music was playing from somewhere, people were dancing, children running around and screaming in delight, and couples were taking strolls or lolling on blankets.

John watched with a slight twinge of jealously. To be that relaxed he'd have to be sedated. And it wasn't like he was really expecting anything to happen, because he wasn't. It was his conditioned sub-conscience, programmed to keep him at the ready, watching his back when there was nothing to watch. Oh well, at least he wasn't being jumpy, just excessively observant.

John glanced over at Ronon and frowned at seeing the runner too engrossed in his dinner to be doing the same. John had hoped that at least Ronon – of all people – would be doing something similar. John didn't fault him for it, he just didn't want to be the only one acting cautious.

No, say it truthfully. Not Cautious. Paranoid.

John tossed his fork down and made to rise from his seat.

" Where d'you think you're goin' lad?"

John paused, then slowly raised his head to look at Carson standing on the other side of the table with a refilled cup in his hand. John scrunched his brow.

" For a walk. That a crime?"

Beckett shook his head. " No. But you didn't exactly clean your plate."

John looked down at the remaining blue squash, something like yellow mash-potatoes, and the stringy orange beans. He looked back at Carson pleadingly.

" Doc, seriously, I can't. You want me to keep the food down, then let me bail while the gettin's good. Not that wasn't delicious!" he quickly amended at the hurt look on many of the present ladies' faces. " Because it was. It's just, you know, I'm not used to the colors. They... um... hurt my eyes."

Rodney hissed out a chuckle. " Good one."

John elbowed him in the ribs, and Rodney yelped.

" Come on, Beckett, I'm serious."

Beckett took a breath, then released it slowly. " Aye, all right, as long as you ate something."

John grabbed a normal looking roll from one of the woven baskets. " A little something extra. Happy?"

" Fine."

" Is he well?" an elderly lady with silver hair (possibly Marvis' mother, John couldn't recall) asked. John winced at the question. The woman had been eying him steadily with a fair amount of concern throughout dinner, continually offering him more food periodically.

" Aye he's fine. He's had a fair bit of health troubles, but is mendin'. I'm just makin sure he stays mendin'."

The kindly old lady reached forward and patted John's hand, smiling sweetly. " I thought as much, you poor child. It's a gift with me, knowing when someone is not at their finest health, and you look so thin. I should make you some of my special Gorg tea. It helps to build strength and aids the digestion."

John forced on a tight – rather painful to hold – smile. " Thanks, but I'm fine."

" Yeah," Rodney said, " that's how he usually looks even when healthy."

Another elbow to the ribs, and another yelp.

" Can it, McKay." He then completed his rise into standing. " Thanks for your concern, ma'am, but I really am fine."

Before anything else could be said, John took off.

John didn't have his P-90 – that was back at the inn where the team had taken up residence until the exchange for the generator was made tomorrow. He did have his nine-mil strapped to his thigh, and his knife. He had to hand it to the Sriotians, they weren't sticklers about who carried weapons. In fact, after striking up some small talk with one of the local law enforcers, John learned that many Sriotians carried weapons – mostly the small and concealed kind. They didn't take wraith attacks lightly, no matter how few or far between they might be. John was impressed, and thankfully the Sound of Music and Mary Poppins impressions had finally been shoved from his mind.

These people were happy without being naïve. Again, jealousy tugged at the darker recesses of John's mind.

Twilight was being pulled over the world like a shade, with stars fading into existence one by one. John breathed through his nose the mellowly sweet scent of grass, flowers, and baking things. Lamps strung up on wires between poles flickered to life, and the moment they did insects reminiscent of the space bugs that had saved John's hide from that super wraith clustered around them. Something like crickets began to chirp, but a lot more quietly than actual crickets.

It was so peaceful that John found himself observing for reasons other than keeping watch. A group of Sriotian kids were running about, tossing a hand-sized ball. The ball came directly at John, but he caught it one-handed and tossed it back. It went far, all the way to the farthest kid. John smiled in self-satisfaction. Like hell he was weak. The kids let out breaths of awe, then tossed the ball back to him, urging him to throw it as far as he could.

So the game ensued, the ball going all over the place from one set of hands to another – the goal being never to let it touch the ground. Simple enough except that there was no way of knowing who would throw the ball to whom. Plus, the game began with the group being in close proximity, then gradually spreading out, increasing the level of difficulty, all while continually moving about.

John liked this game. On getting back to Atlantis, he would have to teach it to Jinto and the other Athosian kids. They already had the various earth games down pretty tight.

When John saw the ball heading toward him next, he took a couple of steps back and nearly stumbled when his foot landed on something smooth and hard. He caught the ball all the same, but held it to turn and look at what he was standing on.

A road, a dirt-packed road, smooth in some places, but bramble-choked in others. He followed it with his gaze to the abyss-black darkness between the trees of the eastern forest. He heard the children come running up behind him, calling for him to throw the ball. Their footfalls died at the edge of the road, along with their voices. He glanced over his shoulder at the gaggle and pointed toward the trees.

" Where does this road go?"

A small girl of about seven, chewing the tip of her braided hair, took a step back. " To the monsters."

John's heart plummeted. Ah crap, no! " Monsters?"

The tall blond boy nodded while keeping his eyes fixed to the woods. " Yeah, something like that. Really bad wild animals, actually. We're not supposed to go in there."

" People don't come out if they go in," said a brunette boy.

A brunette girl rolled her eyes. " Yes they do. You just think they don't because they're going far away and don't come back for a while."

" No, they don't! I heard some men talking about it."

" Sometimes you can hear the monsters," the little seven year old piped. " If you're real quiet you can."

" But you don't know where this road goes?" John asked again. Several kids shrugged, others shook their heads.

" You go down that road," said another blond boy, " and Diavante gets you. My brother said."

" Yeah, to keep you out!" a girl of around eight.

" No, it happened to a cousin of ours," another girl of nine. " He went in because he thought it was a short cut, and we never saw him again."

" That's because he moved!" an older boy.

The children started arguing, shouting above eachother to get their two-cents worth in, or tell of legends they heard. John tuned them out. Mysterious road, dark woods - never promising.

Just don't go down it John. Then you'll be none the wiser, and nothing'll happen.

John had had his fill of monsters. Let them stay in the dark where they belonged. He turned his back on the trees, and resumed tossing the ball to the kids.