The Liar of Red Valley

by Walter Goodwater

  “Indeed,” Charles said. With some great effort, he allowed Thomas to help him up from his chair. He moved steadily, if a bit slowly, out of the library and into the hallway. A few minutes later he returned holding a white handkerchief bordered in pink lace, and handed it to Sadie. She unfolded it. Inside was a very old photograph—or perhaps a very new one, to Thomas and Charles. It was a portrait of a woman in a wide white dress. Her hair was dark and piled on top of her head. She had a ribbon around her neck and a sternness fixed on her lips.

  “That’s Mary. She gave this to me,” Charles said wistfully, “when I told her that we were leaving. Something to remember her by, she said. Though, I think she was more upset about losing Thomas than me,” he said, winking again.

  “Dreadful woman,” Thomas repeated, but this time with a hint of fondness.

  “This is perfect,” Sadie said. She almost wanted to cry. After hitting so many brick walls, it was unreal to be holding what she needed in the palm of her hand. “May I borrow this?”

  Charles nodded. “Keep it. You never knew her, so it’s right that you have it. I won’t need a photograph to remember her.”

  “She was a memorable lady?” Sadie asked.

  “Oh, God,” Thomas muttered.

  “Maybe with a little luck, and the right magic,” said Charles, “you’ll see for yourself.”

  “Thank you. And, sorry I made you, you know, exist again.”

  Before Thomas could reply, Charles said, “Think nothing of it. We’ve been gone a good while now, so it will do us well to stretch our legs.”

  “Are you going to pop out of time as soon as we leave?”

  “No,” Thomas said. “It takes time to prepare the process. And Charles is right. We should pause a moment to take stock of Red Valley in its current form. Maybe there is at last something of value here.”

  Sadie held up the picture. “Then I’ll come back and let you know if I can speak to Mary. But now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got some rules to break.”

  Chapter Nine

  That evening, they all piled into Graciela’s Toyota: Sadie, Graciela, Beto, and Ashleigh, who came over as soon as Graciela told her what they were planning to do. “I’ve seen some shit in this town,” she’d said, “but nothing like this.” Sadie was a bit irritated Graciela had called her—did they really need spectators?—but silently she agreed with Ashleigh’s sentiment. The creepy King’s Men, the things lurking just outside of town, the Liar’s gift, all that seemed normal. Or if not exactly normal, then at least expected. But now they were painting outside the lines, making up new rules.

  But maybe that was more common in Red Valley than she ever knew.

  They had to make a quick stop at the Treehouse Diner for one last item.

  “Denise,” Sadie called when she came in, “I’m going to borrow one of the tree’s branches, okay?”

  Denise was counting money at the bar. She didn’t even look up. “Sure,” she said. “It’ll grow back by the morning anyway.”

  Sadie selected a small enough branch and broke it off where it reached the trunk. She felt a little guilty doing it, even if the tree would recover, but she needed a piece of something that couldn’t die. She patted the rough bark and whispered, “Thanks, old buddy.”

  Armed with the blood, the icon, a piece of immortality, and a conduit, all they needed now was a crossroads. Sadie told Graciela to drive south. They passed the last houses in town, then the farm supply store flanked by green tractors, and then the shady-looking Texaco station that was always at least forty cents a gallon more expensive than anywhere else. They passed the town’s welcome sign: welcome to red valley, it said. "a nice place to live. And they passed the reach of the King’s Peace once Main Street became Highway 147.

  “You sure about this?” Graciela asked as they left the protection of the King’s oversight. Outside the car, a sweltering night had fallen hard, dropping the temperature under 100 but just barely. “Things got a little nasty when we went outside the Peace last time.”

  “Not sure I want the King spying on us when we do this,” Sadie said. “I don’t think he minds breaking the rules himself, but I think he expects everyone else to follow them.”

  And still, the farther out of town they got, the worse Sadie felt. She wasn’t sure if she was nervous about what they were trying to do, or worried it wouldn’t work, or worried that it would. Whatever it was, it tied her stomach up in painful knots and made her head ache like somebody was inside her skull and trying to claw their way out.

  “You look like shit,” Graciela said as she stole glances over at Sadie. “You gonna puke? Don’t puke in my car.”

  “I’m fine,” Sadie said, though she didn’t feel fine. She looked out the window and saw the road sign for Paso Verde, 37 miles. “Stop here.”

  They pulled over into the dirt on the side of the road and got out. There were no street lights this far out of town, so Graciela left her headlights on. The beams shot out over the highway, illuminating the crossroads.

  Highway 147 and State Road 18. If you took the way south, you’d reach Paso Verde in a little more than a half hour. Sadie had never actually been there, even though it was close by, but she’d heard it was a lot nicer than Red Valley. They had a state university with a better reputation for parties than academics, but for some of her old classmates, it had been a way out, a way to a different future. Not for Sadie.

  If you took the road east for about 10 miles, you’d reach the new Walmart Distribution Center, which everyone had been talking about when it opened last year. Starting wages were $3 above minimum, if you didn’t mind the backbreaking work or the unpredictable hours. If you stayed on at least 5 years, you could start to earn a pension. Another kind of escape.

  The road west went into the hills, disappearing behind tight curves and sheer drops that usually claimed a few lives every year. If you survived the drive, eventually you’d arrive at the barbed-wire and concrete guard towers of the California Men’s Penal Colony, where the state sent the criminals it wanted to forget.

  And the road north went back to Red Valley.

  Four roads converging: the prison, the college, the DC, and Red Valley. If this wasn’t a true crossroads, Sadie didn’t know what one was.

  “What now?” Graciela asked.

  Ashleigh looked back down the dark highway. “What happens if a car comes?”

  “Get out of the way,” Beto said.

  Sadie walked to the center of the crossroads and held out the ledger, the branch, and the photo to Beto. A blade-thin moon hung over the distant foothills where miners had once prayed for gold. “So what do we do now?” she asked the brujo.

  “I have no idea,” he said. “I’ve never summoned a dead white woman before.” Before Sadie could say anything, he held out his hand for the talismans. “Would you look at your face? Relax, I know what I’m doing. Mostly.” He spread his feet on the asphalt and closed his eyes. Graciela started to say something snide, but Sadie cut her off. Eventually Beto said, “But there is something here. Power coming through. I can feel it.”

  Ashleigh put an arm around Graciela’s waist. “How come you can’t do any magic, like he can?”

  “Tell your chica I’m already taken, Gras,” Beto said. “But I’m flattered.”

  “Ugh,” Graciela said. “Magic is nothing but trouble. I don’t want any part of it.”

  “Then why did you come?” Beto asked. “I didn’t invite you.”

  “Will you just shut up and open a portal to Hell or whatever? It’s creepy being out here. Anybody could be watching us.”

  Sadie scanned their surroundings. There were empty fields on all sides. The remains of an almond orchard stood to her left, skeletal trees lined up in withered rows. Something flew above them almost without a sound; she hoped it was just a big owl.

  A humming filled the air. Beto had squatted down in the center of the crossroads, the talismans spread around him in a triangle. His fingers were wide and pressed against th
e road. His eyes were closed and the low rumble of his voice danced across Sadie’s skin like electricity. The night seemed to grow darker, deeper, colder.

  “This is sweet,” Ashleigh whispered. “So much better than watching TV.”

  “You’re crazy. TV is safe. I never died watching TV,” Graciela said. “Never had my soul sucked out, or my brains eaten, or…”

  Sadie stopped listening and just focused on Beto. She stepped a little closer and saw that he was trembling, little tremors running up the muscles and tattoos on his arms. His jaw was set hard, his teeth grinding. Whatever he was doing, she could feel it, like a sudden drop in air pressure, like a storm coming. It made her forget the twist in her guts and the pounding in her head and focus just on him, and the highway beyond.

  I wish you could have been here for this, Mom.

  I wish I could see you one last time. To tell you to go to Hell. And that I love you.

  She didn’t know how long it took; that moment seemed to both last for hours and be over in an instant. But suddenly Beto’s humming stopped and his eyes snapped open and he said, “Oh, fuck.”

  The road ahead began to shimmer. And then move.

  Highway 147 was gone. In its place was a winding dirt road that stretched to a distant gray horizon lit by ghostly silver stars. Along the road were trees, or something like trees, with tortured black branches laden with rotten fruit that swayed in a silent wind. There was a sign, where the highway sign had been, but it was written in a language Sadie had never seen. The letters wriggled like worms digging through rot when she tried to focus on them. There were other things moving in the distance, heavy and dark, things Sadie could give no name to, but they did not seem to notice her and came no closer.

  And then she saw someone on the road, coming toward them.

  “You did it,” Sadie said quietly.

  “I guess I did,” Beto said. “Not sure if that’s a good thing.”

  The traveler approached. Her gait was steady and sure, as if she knew the path she walked well, and she did not seem surprised to find Sadie waiting for her at the end.

  “Greetings, girl,” the traveler said with a voice like an echo. She was a tall, sturdy woman in a cotton gingham dress with a pack on her back. Her hair was pulled up in a tight bun and her eyes were empty and bright, like staring into a candle flame. “I wondered how long it would take before one of my seed stirred up enough hellfire to seek me out. Come on now. You’ll catch flies with your mouth open like that, so let’s hear it. What stupid thing did you do?”

  Chapter Ten

  Sadie gaped at the traveler and the colorless world behind her. Dreadful questions chased all other thoughts away. Is that what it meant to be dead, to walk endlessly and alone on old roads under a hostile sky? It certainly wasn’t the Heaven or the Hell she’d heard about in church. What would the congregation of the First Church of the Risen Christ make of the cold wind coming through this sundered crossroads? What would they make of Mary Bell, eyes afire, hands on hips?

  “Out with it, child,” the traveler said. Her form blurred as she moved, an imperfect image on a bleak canvas. “I can stay here but a moment. The road goes on and I’m going with it. Standing still eventually draws unwanted attention.”

  An unwanted tear raced down Sadie’s cheek. “Mary. My name is Sadie.”

  “Sadie,” Mary said. The name sounded strange when spoken by a woman dead for over a hundred years, but also somehow reassuring. “I can see it in you. You’re one of mine?”

  Sadie nodded as she wiped away the tear with a fingertip. “Great-great-great-granddaughter, or something like that.”

  “Something like that,” Mary said.

  Sadie heard Ashleigh and Graciela whispering behind her: “Is this really happening?” “Shut up!” “Am I high right now? Tell me I’m high.” “Shut up shut up.”

  “Mary,” Sadie said, “I need your help. My mom died.”

  “I thought so,” Mary said. She turned back over her shoulder and stared off at something Sadie couldn’t see. “I felt it. I always do when another one arrives, even if I don’t know her name. Her journey’s just starting. Could be that we’ll cross paths someday, she and I. I’ve walked stranger roads.”

  “She died and never taught me how to be the Liar,” Sadie said. “And without that, I’m—”

  “—going to get killed?” Mary finished for her. “Trust me, girl. I know. Been a long time since I was in your place, but the world don’t change much.” Her searing eyes narrowed. “You have my ledger? You’ve read it?”

  “Enough of it.”

  “Good. Then you know what being the Liar’s really about.”

  Sadie nodded. You don’t speak secrets out loud in Red Valley, and Mary seemed to be of the same mind.

  “People will kill for the truth, Sadie,” Mary said. “They’ve done it before and they’ll do it again, just give them cause. The Lies hold things together. You don’t have to like them, nobody asked you to like them. You just have to tell them.”

  Sadie held up one of the ledgers. “How do I do it?”

  “Find yourself a book. Doesn’t matter what book, so long as it’s yours. In there you’re going to write your first Lie, the Liar’s words.”

  Sadie remembered what she’d seen in the ledgers. “In this book, I will write only truth.”

  “There’s a smart girl. Maybe you are my seed. Write those words and seal the Lie with your blood.”

  Sadie considered this then asked, “But what is the Liar’s Price for that Lie?”

  Mary’s ashen face creased with shadows. “A smart question. I can’t rightly say, but it won’t truly matter. The Liar never lives long. We burn hot and then we burn out. And then we walk the old roads, and wait for a meeting like this.”

  Sadie could feel a gathering tension in the air. The crossroads was growing weary. “And is that it? Then I can write new Lies?”

  “You make it sound easy, but it ain’t. And it ain’t fun. But yes, the power will come. You’ll know it when it does.”

  Sadie didn’t like the sound of that, but she kept that to herself. “And then what?”

  “Lying’s an art form, girl. Some of us are better at it than others, I expect, just like lies of the worldly kind. When you write a Lie, you have to hold it in your mind. Picture a world where such a thing could be true. The Devil is in those details, child. The words on the page are just a marker. Some of it comes from the one wanting the Lie, but the real Lie is born inside your head. Focus on it, breathe life into it. But most importantly, you have to believe it.”

  “But how can I believe something I know isn’t true?”

  Mary frowned. On her void-scarred face, it was an unpleasant sight. “Come now, I thought you were smart. People believe things they know ain’t true every day of the week and twice on Sunday. And like I said, it’s an art. You’ll get better. It’ll break something in your soul, getting good at lying, but you’ll get better. You’ll start lying to yourself. And believing it.”

  Did that happen to you, Mom? What lies did you believe?

  “Pay attention, girl,” Mary said sharply. “Telling a Lie will become easy, with time. Too easy. Never forget that once it is told, there’s no taking it back. Once it escapes from your head into the world, it has a life all its own.” She looked back down the road, something of a longing in that stare. “But there are limitations, of course.”

  “Limitations?”

  Mary’s thunderbolt eyes shifted, like she was staring off at something Sadie couldn’t see. She held a bony finger to her lips and looked like she might be ready to flee at any moment. From somewhere far off and across that strange divide, Sadie heard an awful, mournful wail growing in intensity. The sound burrowed into her head and filled her mind with visions of sloughing flesh, of matted hair being ripped out in meaty chunks, of bulbous flies drinking all moisture from bloodshot lidless eyes. Sadie thought she was going to be sick, thought she was going to go insane, but then the wail began to rece
de and the visions faded.

  “Apologies for that,” Mary said. When her eyes returned to Sadie, they looked pitying. “Before you ask, trust me that you don’t want to know. Let’s just say it’s important to remember we’re never alone out here, and that people spend too much time fearing death when they should fear what comes after.”

  Sadie tried to blink away the afterimages and focus on the task at hand before all her resolve bled out on the road. “You were speaking of the limits of the Liar’s power.”

  “Right, there’s always a catch in life,” Mary said. “Take the Liar’s Price for example. A hellish thing, but you can’t make something out of nothing. The Price is higher for bigger Lies, or for Lies about somebody else. If I wanted to tell Lies about myself, well, that’s my prerogative. But Lies about another are costly, sometimes too costly. And,” she added casually, “of course the Lies don’t mean nothing outside of Red Valley.”

  “Wait, what?”

  Mary clucked her tongue. “Your mother didn’t tell you much of anything, did she? I guess not, or you wouldn’t have violated the laws of men and nature to bring me here.” She laughed and the sound rattled the marrow in Sadie’s bones. “The Lies are tied to Red Valley. Men came to me, begging for gold nuggets the size of their testicles. All well and good, but if they rode out of town, their sacks would be empty by the time they reached San Francisco. That kind of coin has to be spent locally. Hear me true: Being the Liar is powerful magic, but it don’t mean a thing in the big world, Sadie. Not much does.”

  So that’s why you never wanted to leave this town, Mom. Here, you were a queen. Out there, you ain’t shit. Neither am I, I guess.

  “Sadie,” Mary said. “The road’s bending.”

  More tears. Sadie ignored them. “Why did the King choose you, choose us?”

  “No good asking why. I gave up guessing at the King’s mind a long time ago, girl.”

  “Have you ever seen him?”

  “Yes, once,” Mary said. “I wouldn’t recommend it.”