-This is my second upload of this same story, it was suggested that I make it into short paragraphs. Reviews are appreciated; I'm debating whether or not to continue this since I didn't really get any reviews, so if you fancy this please let me know. Enjoy! (hopefully)

Chapter 1

Even from a post-apocalyptic standpoint where anything that can go wrong tends to do so, it was difficult for Edward to realize exactly what had just happened to him and his colleagues, and even more so why.

Edward had personally considered the tribes of Arizona to be primitive and disgusting, but he took care never to make this disdain palpable to the tribes themselves during the course of the expedition that his Follower superiors insisted he attend.

He wished more and more as he sat there tied to a wooden beam that he had focused more on his anthropology studies rather than his linguistics, there would be no reason for him to even be here learning tribal dialects had he not been an unintentionally skilled translator.

His prudence in maintaining his winsome personality around the tribes and his growing knowledge regarding "foreign" languages still didn't take away from the fact that he felt learning to speak like an ignorant barbarian was an utter waste of time, Edward certainly wasn't the type with a high level of tolerance for those he considered beneath him.

The only beneficial thing out of this venture thus far was that he had attained some fascinating new pre-war books, which he had always enjoyed reading. He had yet to truly delve into the personality and accomplishments of the man the old world knew as Caesar despite being impressed with what he had read as of late, though the thought had crossed his mind that Caesar would have been just as capable to rule as his master Pompey, if not more so.

The historical accounts of a man who had lived thousands of years ago weren't going to help Edward with his current situation though; only his intellect could, something Edward took a sort of condescending pride in.

Calhoun was a good man; idealistic, magnanimous, a true paradigm of ethical behavior amongst the Followers and humanity itself. His medical expertise was what was sought after for this expedition most of all, as opposed to his "astounding" ability to maintain a calm composure in precarious situations. He had only volunteered for the expedition in hopes of satisfying his desire to "bring the torch of knowledge to the wastes" (as was the mission of the Followers); he personally couldn't stand the odious and arrogant Edward, and had almost reconsidered his attendance entirely when he heard that he'd be working alongside him.

Calhoun himself was a mild mannered man; timid looking, and acting thusly. His biggest fear at the moment was that he had no idea why any of this was happening, why he and his fellow Followers had been tied up like rabid animals. He had always held respect for the tribes for their ingenuity and survival skills, but less so for their tendencies to cling to traditions neither applicable nor useful in the current age or for their xenophobic habits, their maltreatment of their guests and their petulant welcome was a testimony to said xenophobia.

Joshua Graham was an archetypal Mormon missionary; young, bright, set to make his mark on the world, similar to Calhoun in his generous nature. What distinguished him from his fellows was his unwavering faith in God. The Followers were predominantly atheist after all; most, such as Calhoun, believed that no loving God would ever subject His people to a nuclear apocalypse, whereas Edward believed it to be imbecilic to believe in something that can neither be seen nor interacted with.

Joshua prided himself in maintaining his stoic demeanor, even in the face of the highly unexpected and abrupt, such as what had just occurred. The thought never once crossed Joshua's mind that God would abandon his people to their own fates, he just maintained that He worked in mysterious ways to bring his children closer to the light of his love.

He had met with Edward and Calhoun in the Grand Canyon, while travelling along I-15 and Route 89, and elected to use his already existing tribal expertise to assist them in their mission. He viewed Calhoun as altruistic and good natured enough, despite his apparent lack of faith in the Lord. Edward, however, he considered to be narcissistic and far more interested in himself than in the teachings of God, or in assisting his fellow man. He was impressed with his intellect thus far though, despite the fact that he did not appear either grateful or appreciative for his God given gift, and was not interested in using it for the betterment of humanity.

As he, Calhoun, and Joshua sat there tied up on separate beams, Edward noticed Joshua shifting his hands near his waist, as if trying to reach for something that was in his back pocket. Edward was hoping it would be a switchblade or another small weapon that the tribals had failed to take notice of when they'd patted them down, but an eye roll was evoked when he saw that Joshua was just going for a little black book, something to do with his religion as far as Edward knew.

As soon as Joshua had worked the small book around to his front, he bowed his head and began murmuring a verse. "Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid or terrified because of them, for the LORD your God goes with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you."

"Hey, Mormon!" Edward growled as he saw that Joshua had nothing useful to contribute at the moment other than prayers to a nonexistent deity. Joshua noted Edward's snarl and turned his head to face him.

""Mormon" has a name Mr. Sallow; it's Joshua, Joshua Graham. Can I help you with something?"

Joshua's sarcasm and his mock politeness served to make Edward even more annoyed. "Don't patronize me. Right now, "Mormon" is your only name, since it's your fault we're even in this mess!"

Joshua found Edward's logic interesting, apparently the fact that he had made a mistake, however large it was, meant that his name was now erased from history, replaced by his religious affiliation. Joshua kept quiet about his analysis of Edward's logic though; another facetious comment might just make Edward even more infuriated, which is not something that Joshua needed to see.

Edward had started to cool down, his anger and petulance replaced by cold, calculating analytics. When he composed himself, he took a deep breath and turned to face Joshua once again. "Alright, what happened? You said that they were fine with us entering the camp, but then we were beaten down like animals and tied up; that doesn't exactly translate to "fine"." Edward was still licking at his lip due to a blow from the butt of a rifle that he'd received from a panicked and naïve looking tribal once they'd entered the camp.

"It's possible I made a mistranslation, though my knowledge of tribal languages rarely allows for such things, I'm not sure." Edward became more pragmatic at this point. "Well, regardless of why, we're here. We aren't dead yet, so I'm assuming they have other plans." Edward and Joshua had yet to even take notice of Bill Calhoun, who had been as panicked as Edward was angry for the last five minutes to the point of hyperventilation. When Edward took note of the continuous wheezing occurring to his right, he looked over and gave Calhoun his version of compassion and reassurance.

"Hey! Calm down! Breathe slowly, and deeply. The last thing I need is you dying on my expedition because you choked on your own breath, the old woman would have my ass." Edward's astounding sympathy worked, and Calhoun calmed himself long enough to speak. "I-I don't understand! What do they want with us? We don't have anything they'd want!" Joshua chimed in, with his youthful facetiousness in tow. "If it makes you feel any better the tribes of Arizona are not typically predisposed to cannibalism, so they want us alive for something besides sustenance I assume."

Edward spoke once more. "Most likely they intend to ransom us."

Calhoun, curious about the conclusion, spoke. "And how did you figure that out, oh brilliant one?"

"The tribes around here survive by hunting game, look at their weapons; most of them are tied together by string, they look on the verge of falling apart, they'd be lucky to kill a bloatfly or a gecko with those, nothing like a bighorner or a Brahmin though. Chances are they haven't had a major kill in a while, which explains their emaciated look. They'll want caps so they can trade for better guns, parts, and ammunition, most likely at that shanty town we passed about an hour ago. Seems they know that we're the leaders of the expedition, which explains why the others are gone, since we're the only ones they need to ransom back to the Followers. Chances are they're already dead, so they can show the Followers that they mean business and are not to be trifled with."

Calhoun admitted it was sound deduction, but the thought continued to cross his mind that if the tribals hadn't eaten anything significant in weeks, they wouldn't be picky about their cuisine choices, especially if viable (albeit morally questionable) food wandered right into their camp and didn't put up a fight, despite Joshua's assurances to the contrary.

The camp itself was fairly large, surrounded by a makeshift wooden fence, filled with Blackfoots scurrying about performing their tasks, and tattered looking and miniscule tents. Some had gathered around a meek looking fire to Edward's front to perform some sort of prayer, or perhaps a rite for the dead. Edward scoffed at the idea, lacking comprehension of what was to gain by mourning over the body of something that had already died.

Another Blackfoot took his position behind a makeshift bar, serving up a revolting looking soup to his fellow tribals, most likely something produced from certain herbs and plants indigenous to the area due to their inability to hunt at the moment.

Others had been carrying crates of ammo to guards near their gates, and several managed to actually drop them, spilling the precious and scarce rounds all over the place. Edward rolled his eyes at their imprecision and inefficiency, curious how other tribes had not steamrolled over them by now. A thought then crossed Edward's mind; why were their guards near the front gates at all? Surely the wildlife didn't pose this much of a threat to their camp to evoke scurrying about like frightened animals and keeping their gates guarded this densely.

"Mor-Joshua, those Blackfoots over to your left, can you hear what they're saying?"

Joshua looked inquisitively at Edward, finding humor in the irony of the fact that the same languages that Joshua knew and that Edward was secretly disdainful toward would now be of actual use. "Yes, I can. Shall I translate the speak of the savages for you, dear Edward?"

Joshua didn't bother waiting for another elicited and flippant response to his sarcasm, and slowed his breathing to better hear what the two young looking Blackfoots were speaking about. "They seem nervous, as if something is going on right now, something detrimental to the well-being of their tribe, something about others, and death, and-"

Joshua's hazy translation was cut short by yelling, coming from outside of the camp's borders. An imposing yet wizened old man had emerged from the largest tent near the center of the camp to see what the commotion was about. The yelling continued, with virtually every Blackfoot in the camp now looking in the direction of the front gates towards the cacophony.

It was then that the sound of gun fire echoed throughout the camp, several of those Edward had figured were the warriors of the tribe who were in reserve moved to the front of the camp to assist, and the old man retreated back into his tent quickly, most likely due to the fact that he was clearly well past his fighting years. Calhoun went back into his hysterics and hyperventilation, crouching down as far as his restraints would physically allow him and attempting to cover his ears with his shoulders. Edward looked more disturbed than scared of the immediate danger the gunfight posed, the kind of disturbed look one has when one is told of a deadly and long term disease that will chip away at the body. Joshua bowed his head, and started mumbling something inaudible; a prayer for delivery from darkness or some other superstitious nonsense, Edward figured.

Edward could tell the Blackfoots were at a disadvantage immediately, the only weapons he had seen among the tribe were bolt action, occasionally semi-automatic rifles; the most dominant sound he heard consisted of automatic weapon fire, already indicating that if the enemy didn't also have superior numbers and or training, they had superior weaponry.

The gunfight continued for another two minutes, with the Blackfoots emerging the victors only in a very broad sense. Edward assumed that the opposing faction had either retreated or been killed somehow, but the victory came at a cost of at least five casualties for the Blackfoots as indicated by several young men, possibly still alive, being carried back into the camp. With the tribe's ignorance of medical science however, their days were likely numbered.

As the last body was carried back into camp grounds, Joshua looked to Edward, his youthful wit clearly dissolved at the moment. "They aren't just having trouble hunting, they're at war."

Edward hadn't even looked to acknowledge the Mormon, a curt nod was all there was to indicate that he had even heard him. "And we're stuck in the middle of it."