Asklemmy

Minutes 1-2: Grab a hoodie, my most comfortable walking shoes, my passports, and any extra cash. Turn on my shower, grab my cordless trimmer, set my phone on the sink, lock the bathroom door behind me. Lock the doors, leave through the garage. Grab my small adjustable wrench on the way out.

Minutes 3-5: my neighborhood lies along a set of railroad tracks that are heavily obscured by brush. Start walking. By the time they arrive at my house, I'm a good ways down the tracks and leaving my neighborhood.

Minutes 6-10: the agents have entered and found that I'm not in the shower. I'm further down the tracks and out of my neighborhood.

Minutes 11-30: I make my way to a friend's house, mainly following the tracks. When I get there, tell them I have an emergency and can I borrow their car. The agents are searching.

Minutes 31-60: I start driving. I stop in a parking lot at a factory near my office. I look for a car that was backed into its spot and use my wrench to steal the license plate--shift change was two hours ago, so I have 6 hours before they notice. I put the other plate on my vehicle. The agents are interrogating my friend, but the border is only 1.5 hours away. I have family there.

Minutes 61-150: As I drive, I use my cordless trimmer to shave my hair and beard. About half way, I stop at a Walmart and pick up a burner phone. I dial my family as I drive. We make a plan.

Minutes 151-180: I park at Sam's Club. My parents are already on their way back to the car with some groceries. I meet them at their car and get in the back seat. As we pull away, I crouch down and climb into the trunk. We head for the border.

Minutes 181-200: we arrive at customs, but my parents have a fast pass. They cross the border casually all the time. They don't check the trunk. We're waved through.

Minutes 200-525600: I contact my home country's law enforcement. They put me in the witness protection program. I have a new identity and life. The agents search in vain.

Minutes 525601-20000000: I'm content in my new life. I work, I pursue simple hobbies, I avoid social media. Eventually age catches up with me and I decide to move into an assisted living facility. My mind isn't as sharp as it once was. One of the workers in the cafeteria asks my name, and I give a name I haven't heard in 40 years. The cafeteria worker raises their serving spoon. It's not a spoon, it's a gun. They're the agent.