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At 6,250 feet the probe pa.s.sed through the cloud layer. It identified a target zone and shot northwest. To the Orbital and the probe, one place was the same as the next. On human maps, however, this place had a name.

It was called g.a.y.l.o.r.d.

At 1,500 feet the probe completed its final instruction. It sent a charge through every particle that turned off the static bonds.

The probe didn’t explode. It disintegrated, changing from a solid machine one second to a cloud of grains the next, grains that would spread as they fell and never draw an ounce of attention. The disintegration also released the seeds.

Over a billion of them.

A light southwesterly wind dispersed the seeds like a trail of thin smoke. Each breathy gust spread them farther, some sailing off on a lone journey, some driven in cl.u.s.ters like translucent contrails or intangible ghost-snakes.

The seeds spread.

The seeds fell.

The vast majority of them would land on ground, water or snow. They would sit there until the elements damaged their delicate internal machinery and they simply became lumps of inanimate matter. A few might get lucky and sit around long enough to wind up on a host, but the odds were against them. Of course, that was kind of the point in releasing a billion seeds at a time—even with s.h.i.+t odds, a few were still going to land in a suitable place.

One of the expanding, ethereal seed trails drifted near a house on the outskirts of g.a.y.l.o.r.d, close to Highway 32. This house was the home of the Jewell family.

The Jewells had had their fill of snowmobiles and basketball, it seemed. Bobby, Candice, Chelsea, Donald and Betty were hard at work on the winter ritual of building a snowman.

Donald even made Bobby promise not to give the snowman a b.o.n.e.r, something Bobby had done since they were kids. He always sculpted a prodigious member and called the snowman “Sir d.i.c.ksickle.” Funny? h.e.l.l yes. But hardly appropriate now that Betty was sixteen. Besides, Chelsea was well into the age where Bobby would have to start acting like a grown man rather than a kid trapped in an adult’s body.

The strand of seeds rose and fell on the light breeze. Dipping to the ground, half of them hit the snow and stuck, doomed to a frigid end. The other half caught the wind coming off the snow and cruised along almost horizontally with the ground.

Donald finished rolling up the snowman head and had Betty help him lift it. It was packed pretty tight, but you never knew if these things would hold when they came off the ground. Besides, Betty was being “too cool” to wear mittens, so having her pick up a big block of ice and snow seemed rather fitting. Bobby wore only a T-s.h.i.+rt and jeans, which didn’t really help show Betty the need for proper winter clothing. They’d probably both catch a cold, and Donald would have the last laugh. The only problem with that was that Chelsea wanted to be like her cousin and had also tossed her gloves aside. If Chelsea caught a cold, Donald would be pretty p.i.s.sed at Betty.