Courage Dares by Nancy Radke

hastened to tie her, touching her face and sliding her hair across his open mouth. He laughed gleefully as she cowered from him.
    "No!" Mary cried, her desperation tearing Connor apart. Never before had he been unable to defend himself or others. He raged silently against his bonds.
    Ira strode forward, his voice a low growl. "Not!"
    Ramone frowned, fuming, yet the single word seemed sufficient warning. Shooting Ira a surly scowl, he pushed Mary down beside Connor, then stalked away.
    With a low, muttered curse he put in the earphones and sat down across the room. Still fuming, he felt around for a cigarette, lit up, and retreated into his own world.
    Seeing him settled, Ira stepped outside into the bright sunshine, picked up a small piece of wood and began to whittle on it. Connor noted that Ira positioned himself so as to see through the open door.
    Ramone's dark eyes continued to drift over Mary. Connor didn't want her to dwell on it.
    "Why offer to do their dishes for them?" he asked quietly, wanting to divert her attention. Ramone had the music cranked loud enough Connor could hear it. Therefore Ramone couldn't hear him. "I sure wouldn't help them."
    "Anything but sit and wait. Besides, dirt bothers me. I must have things clean. "
    "I see." Dirt meant a sloppy mind to him— a disregard for cleanness equated to a disregard for rules. He’d never fly with anyone who wasn’t meticulous.
    She looked around. "I've always dreamed of having a small country home— sitting with my husband and three children around the fire, popping corn, playing board games. This poor house, long ago, might’ve been a decent place."
    "Could you stand it? It's isolated," he said.
    "I could stand anything as long as I had my husband with me. The nights are the hardest. I’ll never marry anyone who couldn’t be home at night with me."
    It reminded Connor of the nightmare she had just had. If they escaped— when they escaped, she might never sleep peacefully again.
    "I hoped you might’ve seen a kitchen knife, to cut me free."
    "Good thought. But I didn’t see any."
    "Ira tied me loosely this morning. You could untie me if we got a few minutes alone."
    "Not much chance of that."
    "You're right. If only we could get a knife. I’d be able to handle the two of them, at least long enough for you to escape."
    They sat in silence for a moment, Connor running over possibilities in his mind. He could ask Ramone to retie him, complaining his bonds were too tight, but Ramone would call Ira in first. Once they saw Connor’s ropes were loose, they’d tighten them.
    The nail didn't offer much to work with, but it was better than nothing. He had most of the day to try to undo the knot— Mary's list had seen to that. He had to make his movements small enough that Ramone wouldn’t notice what he—
    "I have a Swiss army knife." Mary's softly spoken words broke into his churning thoughts like a shaft of light.
    "You do? Where?" Connor could’ve kissed her and then scolded her for not mentioning it sooner.
    "In my pack. In a small outside pocket along with toilet paper and some matches."
    "Wonderful." At last he could act. "You have to get it, Mary. This clothesline rope they're using can be cut in a second.”
    “All right.”
    “We could wait until they're distracted, but our best chance is now, with just the two of them watching us. Give some excuse to open your pack. Something they can't question."
     
    Glad to have an outlet for her churning thoughts, Mary bowed her head. "Let me think," she replied, wondering what excuse she should use. She chewed on her lower lip as she considered different possibilities, but only one seemed certain to work.
    "I've got it." She looked up. "Ira," she called, raising her voice.
    "Yes?" He stopped whittling. Both men stared at her.
    "I need to use the bathroom. Please."
    "Sure." He walked inside and glanced over at Ramone. "Out."
    "No way. I'll take her," Ramone offered, leaping to his feet, his voice