There he was. Kyle Jameson. He was just standing there silently. He was in the middle of no where. He was a perfect target for a sniper. You would think that any man in these times of 2019 would be smart enough not to stand in the open with the Feds shooting anyone who looked like a wanted man but that was just not so when it came to Kyle. He was my best friend. I had known him since we were only eight years old. Back then neither of us thought we would ever be wanted by the Feds. We were young and careless. Then it happened.

My name is Alan Limmer and this is my story. Well, a lot of it's Kyle's story and there is a little bit of Tommy's story.

* * *

A shot rang out. Kyle and I were out of bed with guns in hand before the echo of the shot could dissipate into the air. I ran to the window.

"The Feds got Tommy," I said in a voice barely above a whisper.

Tommy was a friend of ours. We traveled around together most of the time and he liked staying out late. So when Kyle and I had decided to go to bed, Tommy had merely shrugged and said he'd be along shortly. Well, shortly just got a lot longer. Tommy was clearly dead. Blood was oozing out of a gaping wound in his chest.

"Bullet through the heart. Wonder how he let them get him." Kyle wasn't listening. He was already packing.

"Shouldn't we wait this out? The Feds will be crawling all over here for the next few days looking for us." Of course, I wasn't the brains of the operation but I could always put in suggestions.

"I know this is a good hiding spot but the Feds will find it and when they do, their going to show no mercy. Hurry up and pack. If were not out of here in the next five minutes, were never going to be out of here unless its in a coffin and that's not how I aim to leave." Kyle was still packing at top speed.

"Fine," I muttered before hurrying to pack. Kyle, Tommy and I had been a team from the start. We had all known each other since we were eight and since the mistake the IRS made in Kyle's taxes we had all been fugitives. That god damn IRS. They said Kyle owed an extra $637,241 when he was only making $65,000 a year. When he refused to pay the IRS called in the cops and that's when things got messy. They told Kyle to come with them. When he protested they started attacking him. Tommy and I had been at his house playing poker with him at the time. We came to his aid and tried to clear things up but it was too late. Kyle had already killed the cops in self defense but of course that's not how the Feds interpreted it. It was just the way the Feds operated now. Kyle was the natural leader just because he had always had a talent for leadership. He had been planning to go into politics but you can see that it would be impossible for that to happen at this point in his life. We finished packing.

"Let's go," Kyle said quietly. He could try to hide it all he liked but anyone who knew him could tell. On the inside he was all torn up for Tommy.

We went out the back door and hopped into our Viper400, the newest, fastest and most reliable of the whole Viper series that had started almost two decades ago. Kyle was at the wheel and he zoomed out from the hiding spot into the street. Bullets started hitting the sides of the vehicle almost instantly. Luckily, with all the upgrades the three of us had made on it, it was pretty bullet proof and had an array of weapons built into it. Kyle switched control of the rear machine gun over to me and I immediately opened fire on the Feds. Right after the first one went down the others ducked for cover and as we sped away I got no more kills.

As we turned onto the highway Kyle asked, "How many did you get?"

"Only one," I said.

"Could be better but oh well."

"Where are we going now?" I was always curious to know.

"Probably go to Hawaii. We can drive from here to San Diego, California and then steal a boat and take it to Hawaii. The Feds'll never think that we can get to the Islands." Kyle looked tired. This cat and mouse hunt was making both of us weary.

"The Islands would be nice." Since we were in Chicago it was going to be a long drive.

That first night we stopped someplace in Kansas. We rented a little motel room. The motel was falling apart. The neon lights saying motel were broken and there were weeds all over the place. The parking lot was impossible to drive on without hitting pot holes. Inside the rooms were dank and miserable. Only one of our lights worked and the springs were falling out of the beds. We didn't care.

It felt like I had barely fallen asleep when a gunshot woke me up. I had my old trusty Desert Eagle in my hand within a second and Kyle was just as fast. He ran to the window and looked out.

"I don't see anything," he said very quietly.

My voice was almost a whisper when I said, "I think it came from inside."

I lay my gun on the bed and threw the few things I had taken out of my bag back in. I picked my gun up and Kyle went and did the same thing with his stuff. After over two years as fugitives we had learned that whenever danger could be near, it's best always to have someone ready to shoot on a split seconds notice. When Kyle was finished packing he picked up his gun, slung his bag over his shoulder and started for the door. I followed his lead. He opened the door silently and stepped into the hall.

Almost before the bullet left the Fed agent's gun, Kyle had his gun up firing back. The Fed only managed to get the one shot off, which nicked Kyle's ear, before Kyle nailed him in the stomach. Unfortunately, the sound of the gunfire had brought the other Fed agents in the area running. I turned around and put a few bullets into our room's window, shattering the glass. I ran and jumped out the window with Kyle right on my heels.

"Let's go!" Kyle was shouting now, not bothering to keep quiet.

I rushed to the car, threw my bag in and hopped into the passenger seat. Kyle already had the car on. The engine roared as Kyle got us out of there at top speed. I grabbed an assault rifle from the back seat and started firing out the window. I don't think I got anyone.

"That's a first." Kyle muttered. "They've never made us run two nights in a row."

"Yep." I said. "How do you know they won't find us in the Islands?"

"Come on, Alan. You know I don't know that they won't find us in the Islands but right now I think it's our best bet and I could really do with a little relaxation."

All I could do was sigh. I was getting tired of this. I was only twenty seven years old and I was already on the run from the Feds. All I wanted to be when I was little was a fireman. I had thought they were so cool wearing those yellow jackets and red hats, riding around on big red trucks with sirens screaming. Now I couldn't have any of it. All cause of those God damn Feds. No that was unfair. It wasn't the Feds fault. It was all their leaders fault. If Bill Clinton Jr. hadn't been elected president in 2016 none of this would have happened. Kyle must have noticed that I seemed in a daze.

"What's the matter?" He asked.

"Nothing. Just thinking of the life we could've had if theirs hadn't made that mistake." I had said all of this calmly but sadly. However, my anger was rising fast. "THAT GOD DAMN FUCKING EXCUSE FOR AN IRS!"

"Calm down." Kyle said.

I didn't speak for a moment as I tried to collect myself. When I did speak it was very quietly. "You're right. There's nothing I can do about it now. God damn it Kyle. You're always right. Can't you just let me be angry for once?"

"Well I could but I still remember the last time you were angry. You lost all sense of control and threw a chair at me."

"Shut up. We just lost Tommy. Don't make me remember how I almost killed you." I broke down and cried. Kyle looked bewildered. I had never cried in all the years he had known me. I was always the one to suck it up and keep going.

"It's okay, Al," he said trying to cheer me up. "It's okay."

I just sat there crying. Kyle continued to take occasional glances over at me but he mostly paid attention to the road. Maybe when we got to Hawaii the Feds would lose track of us. Then again, maybe not.