Aidan Benton was convinced that luck was so entrenched in him that it would be easier to tear off his own arm than to lose his amazing karma. He’d gone through a few rough patches, just like everyone else, and had experienced a healthy dose of misfortunes over the course of his thirty-five years, but he’d always sailed right through them. And each time, things turned out better after his nose dives than they were before. And he was fully aware that it was never because of anything he had done.

  He understood his limitations, which were numerous. His appearance and his level of intelligence were average—and that was being generous. It wasn’t that he was hideous, but he was unquestionably ugly, which Aidan was reminded of every morning when he looked in the mirror. His height and his physique in no way stood out. He lacked the coordination necessary for participating in sports, and his strength was below average. As for his intellect, Aidan knew from a very young age that he would never win a Nobel prize. The only component of his personality that he was proud of was his good sense. Having simple goals in keeping with his limitations and not aspiring to be famous or influential was a source of satisfaction for him.

  Reflecting on his life, Aidan was certain that luck had been on his side in all the key moments since before the Wave, working what, to him, were miracles. He was most thankful for his wife. He’d never understood how he’d gotten up the courage to ask out a girl who, though she wasn’t the belle of the ball, was one of the prettier girls in his school. Against all odds, Sarah had said yes. But it hadn’t ended with just one date; six years later, she’d also said yes to his marriage proposal. Aidan hadn’t finished his university studies, but Sarah’s father was a very well-connected businessman whose influence had guaranteed him a job as the supervisor of a warehouse distribution center.

  When the Wave hit, death left millions of families incomplete, but Aidan’s miraculously remained intact. His wife, his one-year-old son, and Aidan had all survived the trance together. Luck had kept Aidan from harm during the wars that broke out in those first years after the Wave, protecting him to the point that he had never had to endure a single wound.

  But then for eight months running, things had gone from bad to worse. He couldn’t find a job and was left with no choice but to beg in the streets just to take a little food home to his family. And then, just when he was starting to consider resorting to unlawful means to provide for his family, a solution presented itself through no virtue of his own.

  A boyish-looking young man who had an unusual way of speaking crossed his path, and the rest, as they say, was history. The nice young man, who Aidan recalled had been wearing a black cloak with a hood, offered him a job as a watchman at one of his construction sites. Aidan gratefully accepted, and when he received his first paycheck, he almost had a heart attack. Not only was the job tailor-made for him—walking around a site doing nothing more than keeping an eye on things and trying not to freeze, both of which were tasks that were well within reach of his skill set—but the salary was more than he had ever made before. He tried to locate the young man so he could express his gratitude but he never saw him again. So, satisfied with the new direction his life was taking, Aidan pulled his coat up around his neck and went out to make his first trek around the building he guarded on a nightshift with two other men.

  He’d been on the construction site since the first stone was placed but had not once stepped foot inside it. To his knowledge, neither of his co-workers had gone in, either. Their speculations about what was inside were as varied as theories about the origin of the Wave. After all, they had to have something to talk about during all the hours they spent on watch. A small trailer that was attached to the entrance of the black building was the only place they were allowed to go in, and only one at a time. Two men had to be patrolling at all times. The instructions were clear and simple, and they were all too happy to follow them to the letter, keeping in mind the salary that awaited them at the end of the month.

  “Aidan! Come here, quick!” his co-worker shouted.

  Aidan ran to the trailer, arriving there seconds later, already winded. Evan was waiting for him.

  “Look at that van!” he said, amused.

  Aidan looked where Evan was pointing. Across from them on a street perpendicular to theirs, a street light that was leaning over, half-pulled out of the asphalt, was flickering on and off over a red van that had run into it. The headlights of the van were also flickering. The engine coughed a few times and then started up again. The van backed up and the right side of the front bumper was pulled away from the vehicle, making a screeching, scraping noise as it was dragged along the ground.

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  “What happened?” asked Aidan. “There’s no one else out here at this hour of the night.”

  “I’m guessing the driver is drunk off his ass,” laughed Evan. The van turned a bit to the right and headed back up the street toward the building Aidan was guarding. The bumper was still screeching across the asphalt and throwing off sparks. The vehicle made a sharp left turn and aimed directly at the next street light. Aidan was sure he was going to crash again, but at the last minute he changed direction, proving Aidan wrong. The van continued swerving left and right up the road and was now gaining speed.

  Evan elbowed Aidan. “Twenty quid says he crashes again before he makes it another fifty feet.”

  The two watchmen were totally entertained by the van’s circuitous swerving. Finally they’d found something interesting to talk about tonight. At a corner on the sidewalk across from them, a low-hanging canopy wobbled precariously when the van’s right side scraped all along it. The front bumper tore completely off and the van ran it over, swerving sharply to the right. Just when it looked like the dented-up vehicle was finally going to drive away, it changed direction again, swerving to the left and aiming its headlights directly at them.

  “Uh oh.”

  The headlights made a bee line straight for the two cars parked at the entrance, crashing into them right in front of the two gape-mouthed watchmen.

  “Holy shit! He hit my car!”

  The two men ran over to the mangled mess of steel and glass the three vehicles had become. Aidan was silently grateful they’d come to work in Evan’s car tonight and made a mental note of yet another debt owed to his sweet, sweet luck.

  “That moron is going to pay for the repairs!” Evan slapped his hands to his head in disbelief, and his eyes looked dazed. He walked around his car, staring at it in a state of shock, and got to the door of the van right as it came flying open. It didn’t hit him hard but it took him off guard. He lost his balance and tripped over his own feet. Aidan ran to him, grabbed him under his arms, and lifted him up.

  “Are you all right?”

  “I will be as soon as I settle the score with this jerk.”

  The biggest boot Aidan had ever seen stepped out of the van and landed in the snow. Four massive black fingers grabbed the edge of the door that had hit Evan, and a bald head the size of a bowling ball appeared over the window.

  “Where’d . . . those . . . cars come fffrom?” asked the driver, undeniably drunk. “We oughta learn . . . taaa drive,” he giggled.

  Aidan and Evan, who had sat back down on the ground, craned their necks, looking up. If the sheer size of the driver wasn’t enough to stop them in their tracks, the overwhelming smell of whisky would have done the trick. The hulking black man came out from behind the door of the van, revealing that the dimensions of the rest of his body were in direct proportion to the parts they’d already seen. Both watchmen stared at him in astonishment.

  Evan stood up and confronted the huge man who was more than a head taller than he was—even though he was also quite tall.

  “You’ve got a lot of nerve! You’re going to pay for the damage, you drunken fool!”

  The driver leaned unsteadily to one side and then to the other and waved his hands in the air as if in slow motion.

  “I tooooally agreeee. Whooooever . . . crash inuh us is gonna pay . . . righ now.”

  “That does it!” blurted Evan. “You are the one who crashed. These cars were parked. You are drunk and you are going to pay for this.” Each time he said the word “you,” Evan poked his forefinger into the driver’s chest. He immediately deeply regretted having done it.

  Aidan would never forget the feeling that this was the end of his co-worker when he saw that mountain of a man crowned with a huge head land on Evan, flattening him completely. Then everything was dead silent. The massive man was lying face down in the snow. The only part of Evan that Aidan could see was one of his legs, sticking out from between the driver’s legs.

  Aidan heard a weak moaning and finally reacted. He crouched down next to the driver’s colossal body and pushed with all his might. He managed to move him a few inches. The moaning was beginning to sound desperate, which Aidan interpreted as Evan having serious difficulty breathing. He tried to push from the other side but the results were more or less the same.

  “Hold on, Evan! I’ll get you out of there!”

  It was impossible to move someone so large; the guy had to weigh at least three hundred pounds. He’d need a crane to lift him. But once again a solution presented itself without any effort on Aidan’s part.

  The driver’s right arm bent at the elbow and he placed his hand on the ground. With a groan, the huge man managed to struggle back to his feet, revealing Evan’s nearly purple face. Aidan bent over his co-worker and helped him to sit up, leaning him against one of the mangled cars. He was gasping for air and had a panicked expression on his face. Aidan sat down next to him and both of them watched as the gigantic man staggered off, stumbling back in the direction he’d driven in from.