Description: 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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