Manhunt. Volume 3, Number 2, February, 1955

The Pigeons by Hal Ellson

There wasn’t much to do in the Reformatory, and Hop was happy just watching the pigeons — until Al came along...

There were always pigeons there, winging into the sky or plummeting past the windows of the Boys’ Reformatory ward into the unreal distance of the world below. During most of the year the pigeons were birds of passage which nested elsewhere, but when spring came and the windows folded outward, the pigeons founded their nests on the ledges between screen and glass. They seemed to know it was safe, that the windows would not be closed again until autumn, and that no hand could harm them. The screens were made that way because of the patients, but sometimes, at some of the windows, the noise the patients made disturbed them.

At one of the windows of the Reformatory, where the boys’ ward was, two pigeons made a nest for themselves. Hop discovered it. He was a quiet one who never said much, and never played with the other boys. Nothing in the world seemed to interest him, but when the pigeons came he found something exciting. No one would have suspected it to judge by his face or actions; intense interest perhaps, but no more than that.

There was much that others never suspected. The boys thought him dull, not knowing of his vivid imagination. All they saw was one who preferred to keep to himself, one who stared out the windows for hours at a time. They did not know that, while they slept, he crawled from his bed in the deep of the night to watch the river and the traffic on the Drive, for the dark wound of the river fascinated him. Its sounds evoked all sorts of fantasies. The lights on the Drive and the endless traffic gave him entry into another world.

But Hop was considered a dope. After all, he couldn’t play ball, and fighting was out of the question. He simply would not and could not fight.

Hop never said a word about the pigeons, keeping their nest secret. But its discovery was inevitable. He himself gave it away by his own attentiveness. His three room-mates were next to know of the nest, one of them coming up behind him and calling the others when he saw the pigeons. “They’ve got a nest!” Dusty shouted. “The pigeons...”

“Oh, shut up,” Hop said, and the three boys stared at him, amazed. “You’ll frighten them away,” he explained, and his face and eyes became veiled again.

“So that’s what you’ve been watching,” Chico whispered, and with that the pigeons took flight from the ledge.

Hop neither answered or looked at the others, his eyes on the empty nest, his thoughts somewhere in that lighter, freer universe where the pigeons were still winging. Behind him the voices of the other boys grew faint as they left the room and moved down the hallway, their voices dying away completely as they turned into the main hall. And now Hop felt lonely, though not for them. His room-mates meant nothing to him. He neither liked or hated them. They were just boys, names, creatures of another world almost, and he felt no need of their friendship. When he had first come to this place he had let them know that, and they had understood, sensing his difference immediately.

Now he waited patiently for the pigeons to return and finally they did, announcing themselves with a rushing of wings. They landed on the ledge, their bright little eyes recognizing him immediately. Settling down, they began to discuss their household. At least the cock did, and Hop smiled, no longer lonely. A moment later, footsteps alerted him as the nurse came into the room. The pigeons, once more alarmed, scrambled from the ledge and took off.

“So, this is where you are,” said the nurse. “Do you know you’re not supposed to be here now?”

As Hop turned, he raised his eyes. His face remained bland. He had no desire to answer, for women themselves were odd creatures, hardly real. He trusted none, least of all Miss Adams who asked too many questions. He resented her false friendliness, hated her dominating mannerisms. One glance at her was enough and he walked from the room, wondering what the old stinker would write on his chart today. As he moved down the hall, she passed from his mind and the door banged shut behind him, a key locking it for the rest of the day. That was the hard part of it, for the bedrooms became forbidden territory as soon as the beds were made, the doors remaining closed till after supper hour. And then the pigeons were not always there, for there was a time for flight and a time for finding something to eat.

But Hop was happy now that the pigeons had come. First thing in the morning, he went to the window to watch them and, in the evening after supper, he slipped into the room. In the evening, while it was still light, the pigeons sometimes took off, flinging themselves into the sky. At such time a sudden sadness came over Hop, for he wanted to go with them, wanted to be as free as they were. Sometimes he made believe he flew with them, hurling himself over the parapets of the hospital into the sky where there were no locked door and wire screens.

Before darkness fell the pigeons always came back. At this time there was always a lot of fuss and talk. Not that the hen pigeon said much. She was a quiet one, as hen pigeons are: it was the cock, a sort of bully and braggart, like all cock pigeons, and he strutted and blew out his chest, drumming and demonstrating his love in the manner of all his fore-fathers, until finally they bedded down for the night. It was then that Hop turned away from the window and went out of the room with a lighter feeling inside him.

In the ward no one paid attention to him any longer, but there was another boy, Al, who was always up to something. The smaller boys were his particular prey. From them he demanded tribute, candy, cigarettes and, if he could manage it, their dessert at suppertime. All new boys coming into the ward became his victims, unless they were bigger, or knew how to fight for their rights. Those who were bigger, or knew how to fight, he was clever enough to make his allies.

Hop was one of the victims. So many cigarettes were demanded — or else. Or else meant a lot of things, and Hop knew what all those things were, so he paid tribute. It was better to pay, for he had seen what had happened to others who refused.

But sometimes when Al was in a bad mood, he demanded a lot of cigarettes. When he saw his leadership wavering, he needed more than an ordinary amount to distribute to his friends. He was clever that way, building up prestige with cigarettes he took from other boys. With Hop he was always demanding, as Hop was a particularly easy mark.

In an ugly mood one evening, Al approached him. “Got any cigarettes?” he asked.

Hop shook his head. “You took the last one after supper,” he reminded him.

“I took the last?” Al measured him from head to foot. “Something tells me you’re a stinking liar. You’re hiding them.”

“Honest, I haven’t got any.”

“Put your arms up,” Al said, and when Hop raised his arms, he felt for the cigarettes. Not finding any, he went to Hop’s bed and searched it, left it in a mess and turned to Hop again. “Got wised up, didn’t you?” he said.

“Honest, I haven’t any cigarettes,” Hop protested.

“Okay,” Al said, smiling. “If you don’t want to play ball, that’s all right. But wait. Just wait and see. We’ll find out if you’ve got any.”

Hop looked worried as Al walked out of the room. It was an hour and a half to bed-time, two hours and a half to lights-out, but nothing happened. Al didn’t come near Hop.

At lights-out all the boys were in bed, the ward quiet. Fearing something would happen, Hop didn’t fall asleep. At ten he heard naked feet padding in the dark and started to rise. Suddenly someone leaped on him, and a hand clapped over his mouth. Other hands grasped and held him down. Five boys had entered the room. Hop lay still, breathing hard, watching a small eye of light glowing in the dark, the tip of a cigarette. Someone straddled his chest and he couldn’t move. The eye of light did. Then Al spoke. He had taken the cigarette from his mouth.

“This is going to be a lesson so you won’t forget what you’re supposed to remember,” he said, and the eye of light came down slowly. The burning cigarette touched Hop’s chest. It was taken away and brought down again twice more.

Hop struggled and tried to cry out. At last, when he quieted, the cigarette came down again toward his eyes and stopped.

“If you talk, if you say anything about this, this is what you get tomorrow night,” Al warned. “We’ll burn out your eyes.”

It was over. Al got off him. The others released him. Five dark forms slipped quickly and soundlessly out of the room and disappeared.

In the morning when Dr. Franks called Hop into his office to speak to him, he discovered the cigarette burns and asked how he had gotten them.

Hop shrugged and avoided the doctor’s eyes, his hand on his chest now.

“Very strange,” said Dr. Franks. “You don’t know?”

Hop looked out the window and shook his head.

“Which boys did it? Tell me their names.”

“Nobody did it,” said Hop, raising his eyes slowly. “I fell asleep while I was smoking and burned myself.”

“Oh, I see, you fell asleep three times. That’s a new one I’ve never heard before.”

“That’s what happened,” Hop insisted. “I fell asleep.”

Dr. Franks nodded. He knew what had happened, but he also knew it was useless to try to get anything out of Hop. When something like this occurred, no one ever talked, no one ever admitted anything.

As the days passed, Hop continued to pay tribute to Al, making sure he always had cigarettes so nothing would happen again. Most of the time he stayed far away from him and, whenever he could, he stole into his room to watch the pigeons.

Everyone knew about them now, and though three boys slept in the same room with Hop, the pigeons were known as his. Al knew about them too. Sometimes he would go look at them and taunt Hop, saying he intended to eat them. Afraid to say anything, Hop never answered.

One day he discovered an egg in the nest. This excited him, but he said nothing, wanting no one else to know. That very day another boy also discovered the egg and dashed from the room to spread the word.

A group of boys came running into the bedroom. They crowded the window and stared at the egg. Their interest died quickly and they left. Hop remained. He stared at the egg. It was almost dusk now, long blue shadows were lunging across the wide breast of the river. Finally there came a sound of wings, a fluttering, and the familiar cooing on the window ledge.

The pigeons were back, and Hop watched them for a while, till they bedded down and closed their bright little eyes. He went back to his bed and stared at the ceiling, thinking of the little egg under the breast of the hen. Tomorrow there might be another. Soon, at least, there would be one new member added to his family.

Next morning the egg was still there when Hop looked, but the pigeons had gone off. Staring at the egg for a while, Hop walked out of the room. Coming back, he went to the window again only to find the egg gone and the nest disturbed. There were three boys in the room and they stared at Hop. They said nothing. Hop didn’t know how the screen had been opened. But that didn’t matter now. The egg was gone. Walking out of the bedroom, he suddenly ran and disappeared somewhere. At breakfast call, they had to search for him. When they found him and brought him to the table, he wouldn’t eat or look at anyone.

At the other end of the long table and on the opposite side sat Al. He looked down the length of the table at Hop, a grin on his face. “What’s the matter, Hop?” he said. “Your egg disappear?”

Hearing this taunt, Hop raised his eyes.

“The poor little pigeon egg. Do you know who took it? I did. You look so worried I thought you might want to know. I took it and I smashed it. I stamped it flat...”

Hop stared at his tormentor, his face white. He stood up. There was a knife at the table, and then it was suddenly in his hand.

Al looked around at the others. He didn’t have time to open his mouth before the knife went into him, up and down, and he jerked with it and fell across the table. Blood began to spread on the table.

There was a clatter as the knife fell, then the sound of running footsteps and Hop was gone.

After that nobody did anything or said anything at all until the guards came into the room and went after Hop. The other boys followed them, leaving Al alone on the table.

They found Hop sitting quietly at the window where the empty nest was, waiting for the pigeons to come back.