[ WP ] Parts of America are annexed by another nation . The protagonist , until recently living on American soil , suddenly finds himself with new citizenship .

I moved to Seattle after the war, but did n't stay long. The city was too loud, or I was too jumpy. Probably both. I went north to Bellevue, but that, too, was too much for me. Horns honking, too-loud radios, airplanes flying overhead. One night I went to an Indian casino. It was just rows and rows clanking, singing and flashing slot machines. I could n't bear it. I went into the bathroom and cried like a baby. The very next day I sold my Honda Accord, bought an old 4Runner and went into the deep blue woods. I ca n't believe that was six years ago already. 
 
 I had a cabin - really just four walls, a roof and a wood stove. The deer were plentiful, and I fished in a nearby stream. For the most part, I was content. 
 
 Once every three months or so, I'd head into town to stock up on essentials. Sometimes, I'd spend the night with Lucy, who I met at Wallmart, of all places. She said she liked the way I smelled, that there was something authentic about it. I got her pregnant. She did n't expect anything of me, which was nice, as I did n't have anything to provide. 
 
 When the baby was born I went to see it. I was expecting something profound, some kind of bonding moment. But that did n't happen. It was just a baby. Lucy said she thought the baby should see where I live. I did n't say no. I did n't say anything, actually, but something about my expression gave the impression that that was never going to happen, and it never did. 
 
 I watched my child grow in three month intervals. He always treated me like a stranger. 
 
 Overtime, I went into town less and less. I became more self-sufficient. I learned the seasons. My harvests were more fruitful. I lost track of how long it had been since I'd seen Lucy, and my son. 
 
 I went to bed on one clear winter night and dreamed I was back at war. The syncopated popping of automatic gunfire, the screaming, lying in dirt, crawling through a doorway, and finally, safety. 
 
 The next day I went into town. My beard had grown long and matted. I could almost feel how wild my eyes were. My muscles were taut and sinewy. 
 
 A mile outside of town, there was a roadblock. A gate, barbed wire fence and two Humvees were planted firmly on the highway. I pulled my truck over to the shoulder, about 300 yards short of the gate. On top of the fence was the familiar red maple leaf of the Canadian flag. A group of soldiers were standing guard, with glistening rifles and pristine uniforms. They looked boyish and serious. 
 
 I stood for a minute watching them. It was like looking back in time. I thought to approach them, to introduce myself. Maybe they'd let me through. Maybe I'd see my boy again. Maybe Lucy would take me into her bed again. Maybe. 
 
 I thought better of it. I turned around and headed back into the woods.
