He swung his eyes, which appeared as black as midnight in the ethereal, splintered light of the church, toward the men before him. He reached into his trouser pocket and pulled out a dark gray concave object about the size of a half-dollar. “Can any of you tell me what this is? Pellinore, you’re not allowed to answer… No? No one? Then I shall give you a hint: I found it inside the good reverend’s house just now. Nothing, not even a guess? Very well. This, gentlemen, is a fragment of temporal bone, from an adult human male approximately forty to forty-five years of age. For those of you whose knowledge of anatomy is a bit rusty, the temporal bone is part of your skull, and not incidentally the hardest bone in your body. Despite its appearance, the large egg-shaped hole you see here in the middle”- Kearns held it up to his eye, looking at his rapt audience as if through a peephole-“was not neatly drilled by a surgical tool, but punched by the tooth of a creature whose bite force exceeds two thousands pounds. This is what happens when a ton of pressure is applied to our strongest bone, gentlemen. You can imagine what happens when it’s applied to the softer portions of our anatomy.” He slipped the piece of skull back into his pocket. “The evolutionary reason for their tremendous bite is that the Anthropophagi lack molars. Two rows of smaller teeth ring the outside of the larger, central teeth. Those first rows are for snaring and grasping; the remainder, of which there are approximately three thousand, are for slicing and slashing. In short, they do not chew their food; they swallow it whole.
“And we, gentlemen, like the eucalyptus leaves of the gentle koala, make up the entirety of their diet. They are, quite literally, born to eat us. Naturally that fact has created some tension between our species. They need to feed; we would prefer that they not. The advent of civilization and its fruits-the spear and the gun, for example-tipped the scales in our favor, forcing them into hiding and forcing upon them another adaptation of which the brutal assault yesterday is a prime example: The Anthropophagi are fiercely territorial and will defend their homestead down to the last little snappy-toothed toddler. In other words, gentlemen, the ruthlessness with which they hunt is exceeded only by the sheer savagery with which they protect their territory.
“And that is precisely where we shall meet them tonight-not on our ground, but on theirs. The time will be of our choosing, but not the place. We shall take the fight to them, and they will give us the fight we ask for.
“And when that happens, gentlemen, you may expect something akin to a two-year-old’s temper tantrum, albeit a tantrum thrown by a creature topping seven feet and weighing approximately two hundred fifty pounds, with three thousand razor-sharp teeth embedded in the middle of its chest.”
Kearns smiled, his sunny countenance in stark contrast with his words. “Tonight you will witness the stuff of nightmares. You will see things that will shock and appall you, that will freeze you down to your God-fearing marrow, but if you do everything I say, you may survive to see the next sunrise, but only if you do everything I say . If you are willing to make that pledge now, with no reservations, you’ll live to enthrall your grandchildren with the tale of this night. If not, I suggest you take your Winchesters and go home. I thank you for your kind attention, and Godspeed to you.”
Silence fell over the little assembly while Kearns waited for their verdict. They had hardly needed the lecture; they all had seen the human wreckage left in Anthropophagi’ s wake. They understood what they faced. They understood, and none made a move. None accepted the invitation to depart.
One of the men cleared his throat, and growled, “They’re not the only ones that defend their own, the bastards. What do you want us to do?”
Kearns put them to work at once constructing two four-by-eight-foot platforms from the load of timber deposited in the front yard. Once completed, the platforms would be transported to the cemetery, raised into position with a system of ropes and pulleys, and attached to the foremost trees of the woods along the cemetery’s western border, to a height of ten feet.
“Why ten?” asked the doctor out of earshot of the hammering and sawing crew. “They can easily jump that high.”
“Ten is high enough,” answered Kearns cryptically. More concerned was he with the weather. He hovered near the back of the truck that contained his crates and the mysterious shrouded box, constantly casting his eye overhead. Around three in the afternoon, as the last nails were being driven, a drizzling rain began to fall, spotting the constable’s spectacles, forcing him to yank them off his nose every two minutes for a quick wipe across his vest. The rain dampened his tobacco as well as his spirits; his bowl refused to stay lit.
Kearns took note of it, and said, “When this is over, I’m sending you a pound of the finest perique, Morgan. Far superior to that rabbit dung you smoke.”
The constable ignored him. “Pellinore, I’m concerned about the boys.” He nodded toward Malachi and me. “I say we either leave them here in the church or send them back to your house. It serves no purpose-”
“To the contrary,” interrupted Kearns. “It serves my purpose.”
“Perhaps you’re right, Robert,” Warthrop reluctantly acknowledged.
“I will not leave,” avowed Malachi angrily. “I am not a boy, and I will not leave.”
“I won’t have it on my conscience, Malachi,” the constable said, not unkindly.
“ Your conscience?” Malachi fairly shouted. “What of my conscience?”
“Absolutely!” Kearns laughed. “You should have stayed in that room so she could rip your head off your shoulders after she was through breaking every bone in your little sister’s body. What kind of brother are you?”