It all starts when a random, disheveled person running up to you panicked. They fall down to your feet and, the compassionate person you are, you crouch down and help them.

You see, you're similarly stuck in a conundrum: your care broke down on the freeway. And there’s barely any service, so you sit idly on your car trunk waiting for your phone to catch a couple bars.

The area couldn’t be anymore more barren seeing as how it’s the desert area of the West of the States.

But then this stranger, scared and suspicious, runs into view, so currently you aid them.

Worriedly, you help them up as they frantically speak of being hunted down. You nod at their stumbling, jumble of words spilling out of their mouth as you slowly set them upright.

You advise them to go off road, and bounce between the hills as to not be spotted. They then thank you profusely as they scurry away.

A strange encounter.

So you spend the next hour with the sweltering sun as your hand holds the phone in the air, pacing around for a signal. You sigh and defeatedly kick up the grains of sunburnt dirt.

Your ears then perk up as you hear the engine of an approaching bike. Before you can turn your head, the person stops abruptly next to your car and hops out with an annoyed look on their face.

You finally look up to see the intimidating glare of the famous bounty hunter who sneers at you and crosses his arms.

“My damn next meal got away thanks to you. Where the hell did you last see him?”