“The point is,” Caine continued, “you and I share something in common, Sam. We were born just three minutes apart.” Sam felt a tingle go up his spine. “Three minutes,” Caine said, moving closer. “You go first. And then me.” “No,” Sam said. “It can’t be.” “It can,” Caine said. “It is. And you are… brother.”

“Ah. Yeah, that would be better. Have you ever driven a bus?" Caine shook his head. "No, I have not." "Strangely enough," Sam said, remembering the long ago moment of terror and competence that had earned him the nicknames School Bus Sam, "I have.”

“Sam and Caine were left standing side by side, bruised and battered, to stare over Penny's sickening corpse, at the face of their mother.”

“It would be the death of you to come with me, Sam," said Frodo, "and I could not have borne that.""Not as certain as being left behind," said Sam."But I am going to Mordor.""I know that well enough, Mr. Frodo. Of course you are. And I'm coming with you.”

“Sam had a DVD in his hand. He said, "Yesterday I sent Edilio to the power plant to get two things. First, a cache of automatic weapons from the guardhouse. "Machine guns?" "Yeah. Not just for us to have, but to make sure the other side doesn't get them." "Now we have an arms race," Astrid said. Her tone seemed to irritate Sam. "You want me to leave them for Caine?" "I wasn't criticizing, just... you know. Ninth graders with machine guns; it's hard to make that a happy story." Sam relented. He even grinned. "Yeah. The phrase 'ninth graders with machine guns' isn't exactly followed by 'have a nice day'.”

“Thank you, Sam," he said in a cracked whisper. "How far is there to go?"I don't know," said Sam, "because I don't know where we're going.”