It was a war Reel had finally realized halfway over the Atlantic her side could never really win. We kill ten and twenty more take their place.
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“Eastern Plains. Westernmost section of the Great Plains where it notches into Nebraska. Not much out here. Pawnee Buttes, Comanche National Grassland. Rolling hills, flat farmland, one-room schoolhouses, forests, canyons, rivers, and lakes. Not much rain. Small towns. Yuma and Sterling are big cities out here. Dwindling populations. People heading to somewhere else. Never really recovered from the Dust Bowl in the thirties.”
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His blond hair was short on top and longish in back, as though the hair was sliding off his head. … His face looked like it had been out in the sun and wind since his birth. His facial features were long and slender, like narrow gullies cut through hard rock by water.
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“Legal pot and lots of guns. Like chocolate and peanut butter.” “You mean oil and water.”

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