[color=FF0000]Moose Jaw, Saskatchewan[/color]

Liam hated his job.

Moving cargo from one end of Canada to the other wasn't easy. Even before the Visitation, it was a job plagued with bad roads, even worse weather, and long, thankless hours. 

Post visitation, many of the problems were the same, if not far, far worse.

Roads were often destroyed at random. Trucks often had to divert from the Trans-Canada highway due to sudden, supernatural weather. The only respite was the series of fortified towns situated along the highways, havens from the devastation in the wilderness, even though it was less impactful than in America largely due to the sheer emptiness of much of Canada compared to its southern brother.

Today, sipping away at a glass of Crown Royal in a bar in, he was drinking to a comrade - Alex Jackson - lost in one such freak weather incident. Silent, aside from his soft breathing, and the occasional noise of him scratching at his thick, bushy brown beard.

The worst part, though, was the Americans. The Canadian military was far too small to escort every truck that moved across the country, so the US military, invited by a newly 'elected' government, stepped in to fill the gaps. New bases, new posts - most of the bigger convoys were being 'escorted' by Americans now, and those who didn't want it were quickly shut down, just like dozens of other businesses hostile to the 'Canadian' government or its American 'friends'.

[i]Friends,[/i] Liam growled under his breath, resisting the urge to spit out the word if only to save the bartender - a young, blonde woman - the wasted time cleaning it up.

Pushing himself up from his seat, he let out a strained grunt, straightening out the worn leather jacket resting on his shoulders. Liam turned, about to make his way for the restroom - only to be interrupted by the sound of a rapidly accelerating truck, followed by a series of sharp, terrified screams.

"Oh my god! Oh my god, Noah! My baby!" Someone shouted - an older woman, by the sound of her voice.

Within moments the bar emptied, the entirety of its patrons rushing outside - Liam included.

They were too late.

The broken body of a child lay strewn across the crosswalk, his mother kneeling by his body as a boxy US Army truck sped off into the distance.