The Liar of Red Valley

by Walter Goodwater

  More sheriff’s deputies poured out of the building across the street. The bear-killer ignored them as it began to feed, even when they started shooting. Stray bullets kicked up off the asphalt and whined around Sadie as she cowered behind the metal box. More shouting echoed down the street.

  Eventually the bear-killer decided it had had enough. It raised its bloody head from its kill and eyed the arc of deputies, a low rumble in its throat. Then it struck.

  Two men went down with yelps of pain. The others scattered. With the creature distracted, Sadie spun around to run toward the library to hide inside, but before she made it two steps, the doors opened. The librarian stood there, squinting in the sunlight, looking confused. When she saw the bear-killer, she screamed.

  The bear-killer turned.

  Shit. Sadie sprinted from her hiding place. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the gray creature start to charge. It had a lot farther to go than she did, but its massive paws propelled it forward at unnatural speeds. Sadie tackled the poor librarian and they tumbled together through the doors. She just flipped the deadbolt as the bear-killer hit. The doors shuddered but didn’t break. The thing’s claws gouged long white scratches in the glass.

  “Get back!” Sadie shouted. The librarian didn’t need to be told twice. The doors bowed inward under the creature’s weight. They wouldn’t last long.

  Sadie didn’t even have time to run before the glass exploded.

  The bear-killer’s claws ripped up the carpet inside the library’s doors as it let out another of its horrible cries. Sadie scrambled back, but knew it wouldn’t matter. Even at a full sprint, she couldn’t outpace this thing, and it still looked hungry.

  But then, just as it was about to lunge for her, it stopped. A strange sound came from outside. It wouldn’t resolve in Sadie’s ear—was it a voice, or music, or something in pain?—but the bear-killer had heard it clearly. A moment later, it was gone. The broken doorway stood empty.

  Sadie didn’t risk going to the doors, but hurried over to a window looking out onto the street. A new car had pulled up next to the wrecked ones: a teal-green 1971 Dodge Challenger. The driver—a broad-shouldered man in a Hawaiian shirt wearing mirrored sunglasses—had stepped out and now stood in the middle of the road, facing off the slowly approaching bear-killer. Sadie could see a few deputies on the far side of the street behind the newly-arrived King’s Man, but they stood as still as statues.

  The bear-killer tore at the ground. The King’s Man didn’t move. The bear-killer let out a roar so loud and strange and painful that Sadie winced and shoved her fingers in her ears. The King’s Man didn’t even flinch.

  Then it was all over in a blood-soaked instant. The bear-killer’s roar ended in a gurgle. The King’s Man had barely seemed to move. One moment, he was standing still in the road, the next he was back in the same place, holding a red meaty hunk of flesh in one hand. When Sadie looked closer at the dying monster, she realized it was the thing’s throat.

  She crept slowly over the broken glass and stepped outside. Other onlookers who had been hiding began to emerge. So too did the deputies, their guns still drawn, but clearly unsure who to point them at.

  “The King has a message for his people,” the King’s Man said, his voice surprisingly loud. He dropped the bear-killer’s windpipe onto the road and let his bloody hand hang loose as he turned to address the growing crowd. “Despite what you may have heard, you are protected. You are safe. The things outside might try to harm you, but the King will take care of his own. This is his vow.”

  The onlookers murmured at this. The deputies exchanged glances.

  “The King asks that you not lose hope,” the King’s Man said. “Every one of you is precious to him. Your continued faith in the King sustains him, strengthens him. We face real threats, but together we will overcome them all.”

  A woman broke through the crowd and ran to the body of the man who had been mauled by the bear-killer. She let out a wail and slumped to her knees when she saw what was left of him.

  “What about him?” someone in the crowd shouted. “The King didn’t protect him.”

  The King’s Man absorbed this question for a long moment. It was a pretty good question, in Sadie’s opinion: it was hard to convince everybody that the King was strong enough to save them when one of their own lay dead in the street.

  “The King mourns this man’s death, but he does not accept blame for it,” the King’s Man said. “There are others who claim to protect you. Others who believe they can take care of Red Valley better than the King.” He raised a hand and pointed a bloody finger at the dumbfounded deputies. “Blame these false protectors. What good was their protection this day? Turn your questions on those who spread lies about the King and assault his servants. Ask them what power they have to turn back the darkness when it comes.”

  The murmurs were stronger now. In the faces of the assembled, shock was being replaced by anger. Sadie marveled at it. She expected the King would retaliate for the attack on the King’s Man by causing another chasm to open up under the Sheriff’s Department, or setting their heads on fire or something. But this was subtle. And effective.

  “The King has made Red Valley a special place,” the King’s Man said. “Have faith. You will be cared for.”

  With that, the King’s Man retreated to his car and drove away. The deputies did nothing to stop him.

  The woman’s car died just outside of Salt Lake City. Some vestigial part of her brain—some tiny bit of her humanity that hadn’t been burned away—understood that she’d run out of gas, but she did not concern herself with these details. It was expected, after all. Everything these mortals created—even their own foul, sloshing bodies—was fragile. Disposable. Their singular obsession was for the momentary, not the eternal, so all their toil never amounted to anything that could last. And yet they were not without value. Like any pestilence, they were numerous, so as one failed, another would appear.

  This land was unfamiliar to the woman and to the presence that had hollowed her out and taken her place. It was desolate and full of dead things. Bright lights shimmered in the distance. More mortal folly. Did they ever tire of their meaningless little lives? Did they ever have a single moment of clarity, staring up at the endless sky and realizing, even briefly, that they were so shockingly insignificant as to invite madness?

  The woman left the car on the side of the road and started walking toward the bright lights. Beyond the city, beyond the black mountains to the west, the woman could feel her destination nearing. That land, too, was strange and unknown, but even this far off, she could sense the King.

  A large white pickup truck slowed as it passed the woman. The passenger side window rolled down and the driver leaned toward her. “What you doing out here all by yourself, sweet cheeks? Long way from town.”

  She examined the driver and found him wanting. She could hear a wheeze in his lungs, feel his heart struggling to shift the blood in his calcifying veins. No, he would not be a suitable vessel. His vehicle, however, would shorten the woman’s journey, and she was now more eager than ever to reach her destination. A compromise, then.

  When she was finished, she slid in behind the wheel. There was blood on the windshield and on the seat, but that did not concern her. Only the destination mattered. And who waited there.

  Do you know that I am coming? Are you prepared for our reunion? Have you anticipated it all these ages, as I have?

  The truck rumbled westward down the highway.

  Sadie hurt. Her ankle throbbed and her head felt like she’d been hit by a hammer, the result of a terrible night’s sleep. She needed to rest. She needed to heal. But what she really needed was to find the lost ledgers before they were gone forever. And for that, she needed to wait for nightfall. Yet even with very few options, she still wasn’t sure this was a good idea.

  Thomas Gray answered the door when she knocked.

  “You again,” he said flatly.

  “Miss me
?”

  Thomas said nothing.

  “I need a place to lie low for a bit,” Sadie said. “Just a few hours. You won’t even notice I’m here.”

  “And why, pray tell, are you seeking refuge?”

  She glanced back over her shoulder. “It isn’t really safe for me out here.”

  “And you think it is safer to bring your troubles into my home?”

  “Maybe you noticed the blood on my face? The tree branches sticking out of my hair? The cloud of smoke and death hanging over my head? Let’s just say I’m desperate.”

  Thomas almost laughed at that, and Sadie took it as a victory. He stepped aside and let her in. He directed her to a backroom with a basin of clean water. “You can wash up in here,” he said. “We can’t seem to do anything about your manners, but maybe we can at least make your countenance less ghastly.”

  The water was cold enough to feel like a slap, but Sadie welcomed it. Using a clean cloth, she washed the dirt and blood from her neck and face and hands. When she was done, the water in the basin was brown, but she felt somewhat human again.

  She found Charles waiting in the same book-lined sitting room where they’d met on her previous visit. He, at least, looked pleased to see her, though his skin was paler today, dotted with sweat.

  “I’m so glad you came back,” he said. His voice was a bit strained, but he tried not to let it show. He motioned for her to sit in the leather chair across from him. “I must know if you were able to speak to Mary.”

  “I did,” she said, shivering a little at the memory.

  “Remarkable,” Charles said. “Truly remarkable. Tell me everything.”

  Sadie related the events at the crossroads. Her description of the bleak road Mary now walked did not seem to faze him, leaving Sadie to wonder what mysteries this man had seen in his strange life. When she told him about the ambush by the sheriffs, however, his expression darkened for the first time. There was a true, hot fury behind his eyes now; his hands hardened to fists.

  “It never changes,” he said, his usually cheerful tone bitter. “No matter what advances we make in science or medicine or what-have-you, the strong always use their strength against the weak. Give a man a badge and you’ll see his true worth. And in my experience, few are worthy of that test.”

  “So the sheriffs were dicks in your time, too?”

  This brought a laugh and a return of his cheer. “Yes,” Charles said. The laughter turned to a brief but deep cough that he waved off. “Well said.”

  Thomas appeared at the doorway with a wicker basket. “Do not overtax yourself.”

  Charles gave him a mocking scowl. “I am far from overtaxed. All I do is sit around inside these dreary walls, reading books and waiting for something remarkable to happen. And here she is.”

  “You’ll not impress me with this performance,” Thomas said.

  “Are you alright?” Sadie asked Charles. His breathing had become labored. More sweat had appeared on his face.

  “Quite,” he said. “We have our good days. Today… is not one of them.” He shrugged. To Thomas, he said, “Stop worrying over me and tend to our guest. She, at least, you can aid.”

  Thomas approached Sadie and knelt at her feet. “Let us remove that shoe and see your ankle.”

  “No, no,” Sadie said. “It’s fine, really.”

  “Your limp and pained face say otherwise.”

  “It’s all right,” Charles said. “Trust him. He knows what he’s doing. And he’s gentler than he acts.”

  “You’re a doctor?” she asked Thomas.

  “I’m not anything anymore, but I can help.”

  Sadie looked at both men, then sighed and relented. When she got her shoe off, she could see that her ankle was swollen and bruised black. Thomas cradled it in careful hands and made his examination. He probed and flexed, noting when she hissed in sharp pain.

  “The bone is not broken,” he said when he was done. “But it will hurt for a time. You should rest.”

  “Rest sounds great,” Sadie said. “If you could just tell everybody in Red Valley to cut me some slack, that would be wonderful.”

  “You are not responsible for Red Valley,” Thomas said as he began to unpack the basket. He had a few glass bottles and some long strips of cloth. “You don’t owe them anything, and trying to solve the problems of this town will drive you mad.”

  “Is that the voice of experience?” Sadie asked.

  Thomas said nothing, continuing his ministrations in silence.

  “What troubles is Red Valley facing?” Charles asked. “Something is clearly amiss, but details here are scarce.”

  Sadie leaned back in the chair. The wood creaked softly. Despite the occasional pang as Thomas cleaned and wrapped her ankle, it was the most comfortable she’d been in ages. “Are you sure you want to know?”

  “No,” Charles said. “It would be much easier not to. But please, go on.”

  So Sadie told them everything, including the secret Mary kept in her ledger. There was little use hiding it now; that damage had already been done. She told them about her audience with the King, the coming of his enemies, and his request for her help. She told them about the Laughing Boys and about the fire burning toward town. And she told them about the ledgers she had lost and had sworn to get back.

  “So, yeah,” she said when she was done. “Things aren’t great out there.”

  The two men exchanged a long look. Sadie couldn’t guess at the thoughts they shared in the silence, but something about it broke her heart.

  “These are not the first trials Red Valley has faced,” Charles said. He was smiling again, but it was different now: forced, pained.

  “Were they anything like this?” Sadie asked.

  “Enemies of the King have come before,” Thomas said.

  “And?”

  “And he destroyed them,” Thomas said. “Or chased them off.”

  “So you think he can do it again, this time?”

  “He is powerful,” Thomas said as he tightened the wrapping. “But he is not all-powerful. And considering Mary’s Lie, perhaps his power is waning.”

  Sadie had heard the King’s concern over the coming of his great foes. But she had also seen the unspeakable fire in his eyes, felt the ground shake with the power of his voice. How could anything defeat a monster as vast and everlasting as a mountain?

  Thomas shook a few white pills out into his palm and handed them to Sadie with a cup of water. “Take these. Then you need to rest.”

  She eyed them carefully. “And these are…?”

  “Opium, of course,” Thomas said flatly. But before Sadie could react, Charles let out a little chuckle and Thomas allowed himself a slightly upturned lip. “Ibuprofen,” Thomas corrected. “For the pain and swelling. Or if you would prefer, I can see if I can drum up some leeches. No? We may dress like we’re still in the Victorian era, but we did leave that time for a reason.”

  Sadie took the pills and looked to Charles. “He made a joke,” she said in disbelief.

  “Wonders never cease,” Charles replied.

  She let herself be led to a small guest room with a narrow bed. An intricate quilt lay across the mattress and soft afternoon light filtered in through white curtains.

  “You should sleep,” Thomas said. “You look exhausted.”

  “I don’t want to impose,” Sadie said, though her body ached to lie down.

  “You came to my door because you had nowhere else to go,” he said softly. “That is a feeling I have known, all too well. I can’t save Red Valley and I can’t do much to ease the road ahead of you, but I can give you a place to rest until nightfall.”

  “Thank you,” Sadie said.

  Thomas nodded, and closed the door. Sadie was asleep before his footsteps fully faded.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The town stank of fire and of men’s fear. The hunter soared above it, disgusted. It had been a long time since it had come this close to a human settlement, but now i
t had come in search of an old, old enemy. And now it could see it was not alone.

  The humans scurried about below. Some tried to combat the creeping flames, to little avail. They were so ignorant of things that mattered, humans. Ignorance was perhaps their most defining quality, and none more so than these unfortunates. If they knew anything of the world—of the true world—how could they live out their little lives so close to something like the King?

  The hunter passed over the black ribbon of the River. That too was curious. There was an anger there, a shifting, consuming fury. Did the King know the River’s true nature? He must. Curious. Unexpected. The hunter stayed well away.

  On the far side of the water, other things waited. The hunter saw them all, even those who thought they were hidden in night’s shadow. They were hungry, but afraid. They smelled the King’s blood, but did not want to be the first to try to taste it. Even a dying animal could be dangerous; the hunter knew this. Only fools underestimated their enemies. Dead fools.

  It folded its wings and landed in a forest clearing beyond the town’s light. The trees around it were dead or dying, starved by a ground drained of life. The hunter crouched low and extended a single long claw. It marked a circle in the ashy dirt, which singed at its touch. It marked one, and then another, then more. It drew other symbols long forgotten, heavy words from languages never heard by man. There was precious little power to draw on from the earth, but the hunter’s own strength would be enough. They would come.

  When it was finished, the hunter was satisfied. The markings in the dust began to pulse with a faint, sickly glow. The hunter settled back into the shadows, and waited.

  The first to arrive were small things, inconsequential. But then others came, some the hunter knew, some it did not. Its eyes watched them all closely. One of them would try, but which? It did not matter; the hunter feared none of them. Most wore the forms of men, a shameful illusion. Why would gods pretend to be animals?