The next
day we arrived at Brutehaven. Mel seemed normal again, last night’s episode
having worn off. I offered her a bun, but she declined. I shrugged and took a
bite out of mine.
“How long
do you think it’s going to be?” I asked.
“’Till
the station?” She looked surprised. “Ten minutes maybe?”
I
finished my bun and reached under the crate for my stack of smuggled items,
trying (unsuccessfully) to stuff them into my pockets.
“Here.”
Mel handed me a small cloth bag. I thanked her, not wanting to think about
where she got it. I grabbed my other bag, and slung one on each shoulder.
“Do you
know any good inns around here?” I asked.
“Why
don’t you stay with me?” She suggested.
I was
faintly surprised she offered. “Where are you staying?”
She
chuckled. “I live here.”
“You do?”
She
nodded. “I was just visiting Artona, and decided to come home.
“Our you
sure your parents won’t mind?” I asked, cautious of stepping on anyone’s toes,
Mel’s gaze darkened, and she looked
away. “My mother died a long time ago. My father-“ she paused. “He isn’t here.”
“I’m sorry,” I murmured. “My father
died when I was young as well.”
She nodded, still not looking at me.
“Anyways,” she began, false enthusiasm in her voice. “This way!”
I followed her through the dark,
winding streets of Brutehaven. As we walked, Mel talked.
“Brutehaven, being only accessed via
the Cartrain, and far away from the city, is a haven for outlaws, gangs, and of
course,” she paused, chuckling a bit, “Brutes.”
I smiled. “Do you have any idea where I
might find someone who would know anything about unconventional cutting methods?”
She
stopped. “There aren’t any real Cutters here, but one comes here a lot.”
“What’s
his name?” I asked eagerly.
“Jonathon.” She replied.
“Jonathon Ledwell.”
“As in Jonathon, power and money
loving Jonathon?” I asked out loud.
Mel looked at me strangely. “I have
no idea what you’re talking about!” She said.
“Never mind.” I replied, but my mind
was racing. Mr. Hillington’s words came back to me. “Not to mention he’s obsessed with “other”
ways of Cutting. Always leaving and coming back with stupid ideas, trying to
completely change our system.”
I couldn’t believe I didn’t think of him sooner. He was probably coming to
Brutehaven when he left, and probably knows the most about strange Cutting
ideas than anyone. When Mr. Hillington and Mr. Sallon were talking about him I
thought he was just someone who was trying to take over the Cutting Center, but
maybe he actually had good ideas, and nobody was listening to him.
“Where does he stay?” I asked. “Is
there a Cutting Center here?”
Mel shook her head. “There’s no Cutting
Center here. At least, not an active one. I think there’s an old Center, but
it’s probably overrun by some gang, and I doubt Ledwell would be there.”
I pondered this. “Does he have any
relatives?” I asked.
“There’s
a woman in town who he spends a lot of time with. She might know where he
stays.” Mel replied. “Mary Parson is her name, she lives on 6th
Street.”
“Parson,
as in Dan Parson?” I asked.
She
shrugged. “Possibly. I doubt Parson is a very rare surname though.” Mel had
stopped walking in front of a small but neat little house, wedged between to
other similar houses. “Here we are. 114 2nd Street. Home sweet
home.”
I waited
on the porch as she fumbled with her key, until the door finally swung open.
She marched inside, and I followed cautiously, closing the door behind me. It
was dark, but I could make out the shapes of a small kitchen and a sofa, and a
couple doors at the end of a hall.
Mel
crossed over to the kitchen and drew back the drapes on the window. Light
streamed into the room, causing me to look away. She then proceeded to go
around the house, pulling back curtains and replacing the candles in the
lanterns that hung from the ceiling.
I set my
bags down onto the floor, and looked around again. One of the doors was open to
reveal a small bed and closet, which I assumed belonged to Mel.
“Let’s
get your room set up and then we can go look for Mary.” I followed Mel into one
of the rooms. It was almost bare except for a trunk in the corner of the room,
a bureau and a bed. “This is my father’s room.” Mel explained. “He’s rarely
here, and I don’t think he’s supposed to come back for another month or so. All
his stuff is in that trunk so don’t go through it.”
I placed
one of my bags on the bureau, and the other on the bed. “You have a nice
house.” I said.
She
nodded, almost reluctantly. “The houses on 2nd are the nicest,
really the only nice, houses in Brutehaven. 5th and 6th
Street aren’t bad, but the rest of the streets consist of crumbling buildings
and hideouts for gangs.” She led me back into the kitchen. “Are you hungry?”
she asked.
I shook my head. I’d eaten a bun this
morning and I was used to going without food for long periods of time. She
grabbed her key and left the house, closing and locking the door behind me. We
set of towards 6th Street, and hopefully Mary Parson.
Mel was certainly right about the
niceness of the streets. After we passed 3rd Street the buildings
became increasingly shabby, and I stuck close to Mel, avoiding the eyes that
followed us from alleyways. The sun was high in the sky, and the rickety
buildings didn’t provide much shelter. I was sweating by the time we made it to
6th Street, and took a minute to catch my breath before looking up
at the house we had stopped at.
It was
smaller than the Mel’s house, very narrow, with two stories and a couple of
grimy windows. Mel rapped on the door, and it was opened promptly. A large
golden retriever barreled out, licking our hands and wagging its tail. A
middle-aged woman with graying hair and kind eyes followed.
“Are you Mary Parson?” I asked.
She nodded, looking around warily.
“I’m looking for Jonathon Ledwell.” I
said, getting straight to the point.
“Come on in,” she said, opening the
door wide and pulling back the dog. “Don’t mind Tesla, she gets excited about
visitors.”
Mel and I followed her into the house,
which was dim despite the many lanterns. She pulled out a chair for each of us
around the small table, scooping up a gray cat and placing it on the floor.
“Your pets are adorable.” Mel said.
“Thank you!” Mary replied. “Now what
was that about Jonathon.”
“I’m a-“ I began, quickly remembering
the story of Mel’s mother. “I’m looking for Mr. Ledwell, are you related?”
Mary nodded. “He’s my brother. We grew
up here, and he visits often, but lives in the city now.”
“Do you know whether he’s here and
where he’s staying?” I asked.
“I believe he arrived just a couple
days ago.” She replied. “If he is here he would be staying at 76 5th
Street.”
“Thank you,” Mel said, grabbing my arm.
I wrenched my hand out of her grasp.
“If you don’t mind me asking, Ms. Parson,” I began. “But are you related to Dan
Parson.”
She sighed. “Yes, he was my husband. As
I’m sure you’ve realized many Cartrain workers live here.”
“And do you think he actually helped
Barry Dunhill escape?” I asked.
She shook her head. “Danny was a good
man. He would have helped someone get out of the city if he thought they needed
help, but he would never have helped a criminal.”
“Thank you Mrs. Parson.” I said,
finally letting Mel drag me out of the house.
Points: 27684
Reviews: 386
Donate