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A dazzling eco-thriller set in a terrifying world with some chilling similarities to our own . . . In a devastated world where plants can no longer grow, 17-year-old Banyan scrapes together a living as a Tree Builder, creating metal forests for the elite. However, all that changes when Banyan meets a girl with a strange tattoo that contains the key to a priceless treasure--the last trees on the planet. When he learns that his missing father also left to find the trees, Banyan sets off across a wasteland from which no one returns. If the pirates and poachers don't get you, the locusts will. Ever since the plants died, the locusts have developed a taste for human flesh . . . But Banyan isn't the only one looking for the trees and is forced to make an uneasy alliance with Alpha, a beautiful, pink-haired pirate with a sharp tongue and even deadlier aim. As they race toward a legendary Zion that might well be a myth, Banyan makes some chilling discoveries about his family, his past, and the terrifying lengths to which scientists are willing to go to bring trees back to earth.

Chris Howard is an avid outdoorsman who's taught forest ecology at Colorado State, worked for the National Park Service, and led teen wilderness trips around the world. He lives in Denver. Check out his website:www.chrishowardbooks.com

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From Rootless

The noise was louder now, whining like a broken engine. I pulled myself up as Alpha yanked at the door to the cockpit. But she slipped back as the door flew open. And then she was hanging off the purple tubing that ran below. Ten feet down. Ten feet too far.

The sun went black as locusts swarmed above us, spiraling out of the sky as I scrambled below the cockpit.

"Go," Alpha screamed, but I just kept reaching for her as the locusts closed in. I felt their wings beat the wind through my hair, and they bored through my shoes as I shoved Alpha into the cab and spun around to seal the door tight behind us.

They hammered at the glass windows. They rattled at the walls. A black cloud. A blur of wings and sharp little mouths.

I was glad the book was in a new hiding place, buried behind the popcorn. Because there aren't many of them left, books like that. People burned most of them to keep warm during the Darkness. And after the Darkness, there were no new books because there was no more paper.

The locusts had come.

And there were no more trees.

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Rootless

Rootless

0545387892

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