Hugo Hurt was tired of wandering. He had been walking for weeks through burned down neighborhoods, melted fields, and     cracked highways. He thought he had found a place to stay before. It was an old trailer park, and there were people there. They had been on a field trip when the End came. A few teachers, chaperones, and fifty-seven 7th graders. He had been relieved to see kids his own age for the first time since the bombs came and the heroes fell. But when he saw what the children were doing, he ran out in the middle of the night. He was sick of being lonely, but it wasn't worth putting his faith in others.

   So when he finally came to the abandoned airfield, he was lucky. A few hours of scouting it out told him the same thing he had hoped when he first saw the place: it was empty. No one had been to the airfield since the End. He could finally sit down and relax. The airfield was his home now, a kingdom ruled by Hugo the First. And if any of those psychotic bastards from the trailer park ended up here, or even one of Adam Leech's raiding parties, they would have another thing coming. There were only two small hangars, only a few scatter small airplanes. Hugo had never even been in one before, and now he could crawl into one and sleep in the pilot seat. It's not like he knew how to fly, hell, the planes all looked out of commission, but he loved sitting in that pilot seat and pretending he could fly far, far away, to some paradise where things were still okay.

For three months, Hugo explored the land around his airfield. He found a small store that first week, untouched by looters. Well, untouched until Hugo. He cleared the aisles of non-perishable foods until his shopping cart was full, and then he pushed the whole thing back to his airfield. He celebrated that night with a bottle of whiskey he had found on the small Cessna he slept in. An untouched store means no one for miles. His kingdom expands. Those months, he felt invincible. Food and water wasn't hard to find, the airfield's offices were full of manuals and pilot logs to read, and hadn't seen a soul the entire time. Until he heard the roar.

He was sleeping in the Cessna, wrapped around what he called his "Endworld security blanket," a baseball bat that made him feel safe, when he heard it. He woke with a start. He hadn't heard a noise from anyone other than himself in months. The roar came again. Hugo was reminded of old movies his Mom used to show him before. He grabbed picked up his baseball bat. He then stuff his pistol in the back of his pants, just in case. It didn't have any bullets, but it made him look tough. He opened the door to the aircraft as quietly as he could, but he couldn't prevent the unforgiving creak of the metal. A third roar clamored through the airfield. Hugo paused, but pushed forward. This was his kingdom, he would defend it against outsiders. He tiptoed out the hangar.

There was a lion. Sitting in front of the hangar as if it was waiting for Hugo. The lion was thin, but muscular, with a long black mane and a dark grey coat. One of the lion's eyes was surrounded by a glowing gold scar. Hugo paused. The lion stared into his soul, and then roared again, as if calling Hugo forward.

Hugo took out his gun and pointed it at the lion. The lion stepped deliberately towards the boy. With each step the lion took, Hugo shivered. He couldn't move, paralyzed with fear. The way the scar was glowing, the lion had to be one of them. One of the beasts that had caused the End. When the lion reached Hugo, it sat. Then it playfully pawed away the gun.

"What-?" Hugo started to speak but the lion jumped on top of Hugo. It pushed the boy to the ground, licking his face.

Suddenly, Hugo was filled with memories he could never have lived through. Memories of a youth spent among family, a loving mother bringing him meat. Memories of an island surrounded by excited children and the smell of fried food. Memories of explosions. Memories of an angel of death. Memories of months on his own, wandering. Not unlike Hugo.