maybe even two.
July 1988
It was dark and hot and long after lights-out in the Arizona State Prison at Florence, but Andrew Carlisle was wide awake and working. Since he was blind, the dark didn't bother him. In fact, that was when he did most of his best work-after everyone else was asleep.
Careful to make no noise that might attract the attention of a passing guard, he pulled out a single sheet of paper, placed it on the clipboard, and then clamped it in place with the template he had devised and that his father's money had allowed him to have built. The template consisted of a sheet of clear plastic that was large enough to cover an eight-and-a-half-by-eleven-inch piece of paper. It was punched through with lines of small squares. In the far left-hand margin was a column of holes. By moving a peg down the side of the sheet as he worked, it was possible for Carlisle to keep track of which line he was working on. He had to be sure to keep the tip of his pencil in the proper box so as not to use the same one twice.
This process-laborious, slow, and cumbersome as it might have seemed to others-allowed Carlisle to write down his innermost thoughts with a privacy not to be had by users of the communal computers and typewriters available in the library.
One at a time he filled the squares with small capital letters. It bothered him that the system made no allowances for revisions. That reality had forced him to develop a very disciplined style of writing.
JUNE 18, 1988. AFTER YEARS OF DILIGENT SEARCHING, I BELIEVE I HAVE FINALLY FOUND A SUITABLE SUCCESSOR, ONE WHO WILL-WITH A CERTAIN AMOUNT OF GUIDANCE-GROW TO BE A KIND OF EXTENSION OF ME; ONE WHO WILL TAKE ON MY BATTLES AND MAKE THEM HIS OWN. IF I SHOULD SUCCEED IN MY ENDEAVOR TO CREATE A MODERN-DAY PYGMALION, I WILL TAKE A WORTHLESS LUMP OF CLAY AND MOLD IT INTO SOMETHING MAGNIFICENT. WISH ME LUCK, DIANA. IF IT WORKS, YOU AND YOURS WILL BE THE FIRST TO KNOW.
That said, Carlisle removed the paper from the clipboard and stashed it with a growing stack of similar sheets. The guards had long since grown accustomed to the fact that Andrew Carlisle kept a diary. They hardly ever asked to see it anymore. Still he resisted the temptation to be any more specific than that, just in case some nosy guard did decide to read through some of it.
With the diary entry made, Carlisle settled down on his cot and tried to sleep. At first the doctor's words-his verdict, really-got in the way, but gradually, as he had done for years now, Carlisle used a daydream about Diana Ladd to help him conjure sleep. He saw her again as she had been that night when he forced himself on her in what should have been the sanctuary of her own bedroom. She was one of the last things Andrew Carlisle had seen before his vision was stolen from him, and he reveled at the image of her there on the bed-naked, terrified, and defeated. In those glorious moments, except for her stubborn silence, she had belonged wholly to him, just as all the others had-the ones who had gone before.
The memory of that godlike moment washed over him like a sustaining wave, carrying him along on the crest of it, buoying him up. The only thing that would have made that moment any better would have been if she had cried out when he bit her, if she had whimpered and begged for mercy. She had not done so in real life, but in Andrew Carlisle's daydream, in these midnight recollections, she always did. Always.
Knowing no one was there to see him do so, he grasped himself and used that powerful remembered image to summon a solitary orgasm. When it was over, as he lay with his breath coming fast and with sticky semen dribbling through his fingers, he thought of how much it felt like blood. He only wished that it was hers. It should have been. That was what he had intended. Why hadn't it worked?
As usual, in the aftermath of that remembered high came the crushing remembrance of defeat as well. The two experiences were like Siamese twins. One never came without the other.
The exact nature of his defeat-the how of it-was something that was never quite clear in Andrew Carlisle's mind, but he never allowed himself to dodge it, either. One moment she had been under his control. In those still- golden minutes in the bedroom he could have sworn he owned her very soul and that she would have done anything he said, yet somehow-a few moments later-she had overcome the temporary paralysis of her fear and had fought back. She fought him and won.
Thirteen years had passed since that night. In the intervening time what Diana Ladd had done to him on the kitchen floor of her house in Gates Pass had become the central issue of Andrew Carlisle's life. More than anything, she was the one who got away. The fact that their battle had left him blind and with a mangled arm wasn't as important as the simple fact that she had somehow escaped him.
However painful that realization might be, Andrew Carlisle never for even a moment allowed himself to forget it. She had been far tougher, far braver, and more resourceful than he had ever expected. Carlisle's proxy would have to be warned, in no uncertain terms, not to underestimate this woman. After all, look what she had done to him! He was locked away in prison for the rest of his natural life-shut up with no chance of parole while she was still out there somewhere, free to do whatever she liked.
Still courting elusive sleep, Andrew Carlisle tormented himself with wondering where Diana Ladd was at that very moment and what she might be doing. Right then, in the middle of the night, she was probably in that same little house down in Tucson, sleeping next to that asshole husband of hers, and reveling in the fact that one of her puny, stupid books had managed to edge its way onto the New York Times Best Sellers list.
There was a special radio station, available to Carlisle because he was blind, that provided audio editions of newspapers on a daily basis. Carlisle listened to the broadcasts every day. Recently, one of those had contained a feature article on Diana Ladd Walker and her newly released book.
'I have a husband and kids and a career I love,' she had said. 'Most of the time I feel as though I'm living in a dream.'
Andrew Carlisle had heard those words, and they had galvanized him to action. Diana Ladd Walker was living the kind of life that had been forever denied him-one she had robbed him of through her own personal efforts. He felt as though every ounce of her success had been built on his own failure. That was unforgivable.
You may think it's a dream right now, he thought as he finally drifted off to sleep, but with any kind of luck, I'll turn it into a nightmare.
1
They say it happened long ago that the whole world was covered with water. I'itoi-Elder Brother-was floating around in the basket which he had made. After a time, Great Spirit came out of his basket and looked around. Everything was still covered with water, so I'itoi made himself larger and larger until shuhthagi-the water-reached only to his knees.
Then, whileI'itoi was walking around in the water, he heard someone call. At first he paid no attention, but when the call came the fourth time, Elder Brother went to see who was shouting. And so I'itoi found Jeweth Mahkai — Earth Medicine Man-rejoicing because he was the first one to come out of the water.
Elder Brother said, 'This is not true.' He explained that he himself was first, butJeweth Mahkai was stubborn and insisted that he was first.
NowI'itoi and Earth Medicine Man, as they were talking, were standing in the south. They started toward the west. As they were going through the water-because there was as yet very little land-they heard someone else shouting.
Ban- Coyote-was the one who was making all the noise.I'itoi went toward the sound, but Elder Brother went one way, and Ban went another. And so they passed each other. Coyote was shouting that he was the very first one out of the water and that he was all alone in the world.
I'itoi called to Ban, and at last they came together. Elder Brother explained to Coyote that he was not the first. And then the three-Great Spirit, Earth Medicine Man, and Coyote-started north together. As they went over the mud,I'itoi saw some very small tracks.
Elder Brother said, 'There must be somebody else around.' Then they heard another voice calling. It
