In hindsight, running into the desert with only the clothes on his back, one round in his colt, and no particular direction in mind hadn't been the best plan. It wasn't even a particularly good one (especially considering that he had fired half of those bullets uselessly into the air to grab attention). It was unfortunate, as the previously concocted plan had been nothing short of great. It involved traversing the sewer system that would have led him to the edge of town and a conveniently located bus stop where he could have boarded transportation out of Mesa Probe without anyone being the wiser. In spite of this, Vash being who he was, promptly tossed said great plan out the window as soon as it became clear that its execution would cause the church to come under fire.
It was enough that the nice people who patched him up when he'd been grievously injured likely would have been hurt by the extremely impatient Terran soldiers hanging around outside. Their undoubtedly indiscriminate shooting might also have damaged the only proof that Knives had existed on this world that wasn't laced in death and pain. (At least for anyone else other than Knives and himself; Knives was dead after all, and thinking about that certainly hurt). The tree itself, however, was definitively a Good Thing™, and Vash was going to be damned if he let any harm befall the one incident of such that his brother had done since deciding his definition of a "good thing" lay closer to whole-species genocide on the spectrum.
Thankfully for Vash, he wasn't given much time to dwell on a move that was as likely to have been motivated by suicide as it was by doing a nice thing to people who were kind to them.
There were decidedly more immediate concerns. Like self-preservation.
The unsavory-looking group of bounty hunters looking to cash in on the Stampede's (completely unfairly!) renewed bounty flanking him the second he started to flee didn't help. Getting caught in the ensuing crossfire between them and his other would-be captors helped less. Somewhere between bullets, lasers, grenades, and whatever-else being thrown back-and-forth over his head between the impromptu, warring factions (along with some surprisingly creative insults), one of the explosions flung him through the air rather unceremoniously and managed to dump the embarrassed gunman at Meryl's feet.
Literally.
His first thought had been how very happy he was to see her. And Milly. It had been so long! The insurance girls were a much nicer welcoming party than people running after him with explosives. Even if Meryl's expression promised a dressing down sure to eviscerate any manly pride he might have been holding on to (and she delivered on that promise too, unlike some people (which she was quick to point out). But he was trying! He did say it was his first time!).
His second was one of relief. Meryl and Milly were actually astoundingly, frighteningly good at their job of getting him out of trouble and mitigating damages (as much to him as to the surrounding property and populace). Vash could not have asked for a better god-send to potentially get him out of the threatening situation he found himself in at that moment, which even he had to admit he was woefully unprepared to deal with.
Meryl had always been better at making (and keeping to) plans anyway.
But that was before they'd casually handed him business cards that definitely were not from an insurance company of any kind; Meryl pulling aside her cloak to reveal her many tiny pistols had been replaced with microphones and Milly supplying an insect-legged camera contraption that couldn't possibly have fit under even her gigantic coat. He was still laughing at the absurdity of having a theme song an ile out into the desert. The ridiculousness of his life!
Briefly, he considered giving up the chase. If it had just been Meryl and Milly, he wouldn't have thought twice. Even if they were dragging around recording equipment with the intention of broadcasting his behaviors to the whole planet for some reason, he rather liked their company. Their lively antics certainly never failed to surprise him.
It was the thirty or so other people following them that were the problem. Bounty hunters weren't hard to deal with generally; Vash was pretty sure he could find a patch or two of skin where he hadn't be shot or stabbed yet—but he wasn't entirely certain if his miraculous recoveries from such injuries would be compromised by his black hair, and he didn't relish finding out through trial and error. The Earth soliders, on the other hand, were an entirely unknown quantity. While they didn't seem intent on injuring him per se, they very well might have knowledge of his anatomy even he didn't have and thus more tailored and effective sedatives than the humans he'd known had access to. And he did NOT relish the idea of being "out".
That being said, he had been debating the merits of handing himself over to the Earth forces pursuing him well before he'd donned his trademark coat; in truth, well before he had healed fully. The small town doctor vehemently talked him out of it several times, insisting that the gunman had "done enough". Vash knew better; there was a great deal that still needed to be done to ensure a peaceful co-existence between the newly crash-landed humans and plants and the old. There were things only "Vash the Stampede" would have the answers for (Knives), and there were Vash's own curiosities regarding...others like him. He had questions. Furthermore, he was fairly certain he couldn't outrun the soldiers' mech-things on foot, and he would rather be captured with his full faculties intact than while tired, dehydrated, and probably shot. On the other hand, he'd prefer not to get captured in the first place; it was hard to play ambassador from behind bars. Aside which, he didn't have the foggiest what kind of jail a people with 150 years on him technologically would throw him into. Which is what really kept him running.
Vash wanted to approach what was left of Pieces of Earth on his own terms (or at least more amicable than the ones being blared from the megaphones behind him).
This thought was lost to the wind when a rather sizeable sandworm burst from the ground between the hunters and their would-be prize, screeching incomprehensibly and towering over everyone.
Then, several things happened in rapid succession.
Meryl and Milly dove to their left, taking the chance that the bounty hunters, having lived on the planet all their lives, wouldn't be stupid enough to fire upon a sandworm with anything less than several missile launchers (and then, not at point blank). The Earth forces, not having the home-field advantage, were understandably less familiar with the wildlife, and weren't. Unfortunately for them, this meant they gained the undivided attention of something at least twelve times their size and angry. The bounty hunters, meanwhile, took the opportunity to run back to town and ostensibly, shelter. Milly let out a shrill whistle as soon as she determined that current danger was diverted elsewhere, and Meryl, ears ringing, watched Vash as he ran towards it, yelling not to hurt anyone and reaching for his revolver.
The lone gunman fired a single warning shot, whizzing within an inch of what he'd assumed was its ear, and was rewarded with an immediate about face and a sandworm's version of a battle cry. This left him backpedaling rather ungracefully to avoid being squished as the gargantuan creature slammed into the sand, and suddenly reevaluated his life choices as it gave chase.
Two thomas squawked irritatingly from the direction the bounty hunters fled, faithfully having responded to Milly's call, but maintaining the instincts that kept them from becoming the wrong end of the food chain. Milly cooed and clucked as the sandworm roared; the thomas reacted to the louder of the two, reared back and ran. The ladies barely had time to grab the reins as their steeds speed full tilt towards the empty desert. It took a great deal of coaxing to aim the large land birds at perceived mortal peril, but both being accomplished riders, Meryl and Milly managed to give chase after Vash.
The Terrans were left sputtering sand amid scattered mechanical parts once belonging to top-of-the-line sophisticated and expensive military-grade exoskeletons and weaponry. Wondering not for the first time what exactly kind of hell they'd crashed onto, the group of newly-minted No Man's Land residents watched with resignation as their target fled into the desert.