The Box by Jeremy Brown (ebook reader play store txt) 📕

can I explain this without sounding racist? Or maybe nationalist.”

“Just go ahead. I’ll assume you aren’t a racist or a nationalist, and if you convince me otherwise I’ll let you know.”

“Okay. Fine. So when we were at Len’s and you caught me talking about people from around here—God, that seems like it was days ago—and I said I’m not a xenophobe, I just don’t like assholes.”

“Right.”

“This gang, they’re Romanians. But really, they’re just assholes who happen to be Romanian.”

Connelly said, “So those guys back there were in the gang?”

“Yep.”

“And they…what? Just go around harassing farmers and people in Hungarian soccer jerseys?”

Nora shook her head.

“They came here five years ago and started making trouble, scaring and intimidating people, and they have a whole thing going on where they’re defrauding the government but nobody wants to make it worse, so they just go along and keep their heads down.”

Connelly put on an even more confused face.

“Defrauding the government? How?”

“It’s this whole thing with farm subsidies. It’s not worth explaining, just know they’re using the people here to steal a lot of money.”

“So…they’re like Romanian mafia?”

“Pretty much, yes. And my parents were some of the people they scared. My dad almost shot one of them once, when they came to look around and wouldn’t get off the property. They came back with more men and told my dad if he did that again, they’d set the house on fire and shoot anyone who tried to run out.”

“Holy shit,” Connelly said.

“I know. And that’s when my folks decided to move to Arizona. Since then I’ve been trying to sell the farm, but nobody from around here wants to buy it and add to their troubles. The Romanians don’t want anyone from outside this little kingdom they’ve created buying it, because that person might not understand the gravity of the situation and do something stupid, like go to the police.”

“That was going to be my next question. I mean, why—”

“Why hasn’t anyone reported them? Other than the whole burn-your-house-down-and-shoot-you part? Well, the local cops are in on it, more or less. They’re on the payroll. I guess we could go to the state police, or the FBI, but people would still get hurt. One of the Romanians, the one in charge, he’s made it clear that even if they all get arrested, there are more of them who will come here and make us all pay for it.”

“Who’s the one in charge?”

“He came into Len’s last weekend, when we were there. That’s why I had to leave.”

“Wait, the skinny guy?”

Nora’s mouth twisted in disgust.

“That’s him. Razvan.”

“He looked like Skeletor.”

“He’s a monster. He wants to buy the farm, in cash, and I won’t let him.”

“But…won’t that solve it for you? Sell the farm to him, you’re free and clear.”

Nora shook her head.

“I already broke my parents’ hearts by not taking over the farm myself. If I sold it to Razvan and his crew…I think it would kill them.”

They both stared through the windshield for a while, then Connelly said, “Nora, are you even trying to sell the farm?”

She shrugged but wouldn’t look at him.

“It’s technically for sale. And I already told you I’m leasing the fields out in the meantime, but that’s mostly because I have to pay Razvan when the time comes.”

“And when is that?”

“Soon,” she said, and Connelly didn’t push it.

He said, “What are these Romanians going to do to you, if you don’t sell your home to them?”

“Keep making threats. Keep harassing me.”

“And then what?”

She shrugged again.

He said, “Is that why you’re carrying the gun?”

She nodded.

They found a gas station a few miles later and Connelly got her a ginger ale while she filled the tank, then she got into the northbound lanes and headed back toward the town.

Connelly said, “I don’t want to sound too concerned, but do you think those guys are still at Len’s?”

“We aren’t going there.”

“We aren’t?”

“No. You want to see the farm?”

“Oh, sure. Yeah. If you want to show me.”

“I want you to understand why I can’t just sell it to them.”

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me.”

“I appreciate that, thank you. But I also kind of want a second opinion. Maybe I should just cave in and sell it. Maybe I’m being stubborn and stupid and ridiculous.”

“You can be all of those things,” Connelly said, “and still be right.”

They had to drive all the way into town before Nora could turn left, west, then left again to work her way in a general southwest direction.

When she slowed along a straight road with fields on both sides Connelly looked at the house coming up on the right.

It was was tall and white with black shutters and a wraparound porch with an actual porch swing hanging next to the front door.

The crushed stone driveway led past the manmade pond in the large front yard, up a gentle hill to the right side of the house and under a canopy of mature trees.

Off to the right of the driveway and about even with the house was a large weathered barn that had been painted red at one point and now looked like driftwood with red veins.

Past the trees, the driveway spread into a wide gravel lot where you could curve left behind the house or go straight.

Left led to an attached three-car garage that had been added on at some point and made to look like part of the original construction.

Straight took you into the gravel lot with two larger, newer barns made of metal along the left. The huge sliding doors along the fronts were closed.

Nora stopped the Lexus between the house and the wooden barn, under a canopy of leafless branches.

Connelly got out and looked around and pointed at a tire hanging by a rope from one of the trees.

“A porch swing and a tire swing? You were spoiled.”

“Every time I pull in, I tell myself to cut that down so it doesn’t hurt the tree. Then I take my stuff inside and