Staring at the brute with no less horror than if he had been gazing into the eyes of Satan himself, the young guard on the scaffolding yelled frantically into the alien ship, "Sarge! C’mere! Look at the size of this thing!"

   He’d seen Nephilim before, but nothing as big and as frightening as this one. Its shoulders, broad as a pickup truck, shadowed beneath fierce jaws as large as an African lion’s. Thick patches of orange-brown fur quivered like mats of dirty wire against its predatory salivating. Judging by its insane snarl and the clacking of its talons against the floor, the thing was on a mission.