'What do you mean?'
'It sounds absurd, doesn't it?' Pritchard seemed quite pleased with himself. 'It isn't the kind of thing I'd even talk about, except that it was an extremely well-documented event. There was even a story about it on the front page of the Bergenfield Courier, with a picture. At just past two in the afternoon on October 28th, 1960, an extremely large flock of sparrows flew into the west side of County Hospital. That is the side where the Intensive Care Unit was in those days, and of course that was where the Beaumont boy was taken following his operation.
'A great many windows were broken, and the maintenance men cleared away better than three hundred dead birds following the incident. An ornithologist was quoted in the Courier's article, as I recall - he pointed out that the west side of the building was almost wholly glass, and theorized that the birds might have been attracted by the bright sunlight reflected on that glass.'
'That's crazy,' Alan said. 'Birds only fly into glass when they can't see it.'
'I believe the reporter conducting the interview mentioned that, and the ornithologist pointed out that flocking birds seem to share a group telepathy which unites their many minds - if birds can be said to have minds - into one. Rather like foraging ants. He said that if one of the flock decided to fly into the glass, the rest probably just followed along. I wasn't at the hospital when it happened - I'd finished with the Beaumont boy, checked to make sure his vites were stable - '
'Vites?'
'Vital signs, Sheriff. Then I left to play golf. But I understand that those birds scared the bejabbers out of everyone in the Hirschfield Wing. Two people were cut by flying glass. I could accept the ornithologist's theory, but it still made a ripple in my mind . . . because I knew about young Beaumont's sensory precursor, you see. Not just birds, but specific birds: sparrows.'
'The sparrows are flying again,' Alan muttered in a distracted, horrified voice.
'I beg your pardon, Sheriff'
'Nothing. Go on.'
'I questioned him about his symptoms a day later. Sometimes there is localized amnesia about sensory precursors following an operation which removes the cause, but not in this case. He remembered perfectly well. He saw the birds as well as heard them. Birds everywhere, he said, all over the houses and lawns and streets of Ridgeway, which was the section of Bergenfield where he lived.
'I was interested enough to check his charts, and match them with the reports of the incident. The flock of sparrows hit the hospital at about two-oh-five. The boy woke up at two-ten. Maybe even a little earlier.' Pritchard paused and then added: 'In fact, one of the ICU nurses said she believed it was the sound of the breaking glass that woke him up.'
'Wow,' Alan said softly.
'Yes,' Pritchard said. 'Wow is right. I haven't spoken of that business in years, Sheriff Pangborn. Does any of it help?'
'I don't know,' Alan said honestly. 'It might. Dr Pritchard, maybe you didn't get it all - I mean, if you didn't, maybe it's started growing again.'
'You said he'd had tests. Was one of them a CAT-scan?'
'Yes.'
'And he was X-rayed, of course.'.'Uh-huh.'
'If those tests showed negative, then it's because there's nothing to show. For my part, I believe we did get it all.'
'Thank you, Dr Pritchard.' He had a little trouble forming the words; his lips felt numb and strange.
'Will you tell me what has happened in greater detail when this matter has resolved itself, Sheriff'? I've been very frank with you, and it seems a small favor to ask in return. I'm very curious.'
'I will if I can.'
'That's all I ask. I will let you get back to your job, and I will return to my vacation.'
'I hope you and your wife are having a good time.'
Pritchard sighed. 'At my age, I have to work harder and harder to have just a mediocre time, Sheriff. We used to love camping, but I think next year we'll stay home.
'Well, I sure appreciate you taking the time to return my call.'
'It was my pleasure. I miss my work, Sheriff Pangborn. Not the mystique of surgery - I never cared much for that - but the mystery. The mystery of the mind. That was very exciting.'
'I imagine it was,' Alan agreed, thinking he would be very happy if there were a little less mental mystery in his life right now. 'I'll be in touch if and when things . . . clarify themselves.'
'Thank you, Sheriff.' He paused and then said: 'This is a matter of great concern to you, isn't it?'
'Yes. Yes, it is.'
'The boy I remember was very pleasant. Scared, but pleasant. What sort of man is he?'
'A good one, I think,' Alan said. 'A trifle cold, maybe, and a trifle distant, but a good man for all that.' And he repeated: 'I think.'