1 Chapter 1: One Lucky Day

A young finely dressed man yawned as he struggled to find the keyhole for his car. The ignition sound signaled that he found it.

"Another day of work?" George Smith asked the vacant car. With no response he chuckled and backed out of his suburban garage, "Good thing I like to work." He grabbed his breakfast which laid in the passenger seat. It was a bowl of left-over lasagna, his favorite. With a happy expression he popped the bowls lid off and grabbed a plastic fork from the glove box. Driving through St. Louis traffic was often slow, so he took his time to saver each bite.

"Hmmm," he vocalized his delight, "this is my lucky day." After consuming the last bite, he arrived at his destination: a gas station. It was not his place of work but a place where he worked. George Smith was in the merchandizing department of a local soda company called Scarlet Crown Cola. His job was simple yet very important.

He is to drive to each location in the city of St. Louis that sells his company's soda. There he records various statistics onto a touch screen tablet that always hung from his shoulder. Through him the company would know how much product was being sold at each location. They could use those numbers along with previous records to predict how much product they will need to ship to each respective location. There is more to it but that is the main objective. It is a simple job yet integral to the company's supply chain.

George is considered, by those who know him, to be a rather lucky man. He, on the other hand does not believe in luck, fate, or destiny. He is a man of logic and reason. However, he cannot deny that most of his success in life has thus far been due to chance: luck. While he likes to think he is the calculative and intelligent type, he is not. Just a day dreamer. He has never been very intelligent. His grades throughout high school and college were just above average. Yet he was lucky enough to receive a scholarship that paid off a lot of the tuition. The rest was paid for by the U.S.'s financial aid system. He was lucky enough to live down the street from the low-cost community college that he graduated from. This meant that he didn't need a dorm. He was lucky enough to be hired on his first job application.

After working in merchandizing for only a year he was offered job training for future positions. One such position was a job that he never expected to acquire. This is because the company only ever needs one person to fill that role. It paid very well and most people who possess similar jobs have it for life. After only working for another year that position was open. The previous worker was fired for continuous drunkenness while on duty. George Smith was the lucky new hire to be made the replacement.

His friends nicknamed him King Midas, because seemingly everything he touched turned to gold. Whenever they would mention it, he would just laugh and play along. His thinking was that he was not lucky, but that people would rather focus on what others had. They are so focused on others 'luck' that they fail to see all the great things that they already have. He was content with where he was and never got his hopes up for some delusion of grandeur. Yet, many lucky things kept happening. Recently these things were on his mind. He avidly believed in his parents' teachings of being ever content. Yet, each day he was called lucky. Each time was like a weight being added to his mind. He wanted to believe that everything he earned was from being content. That he did not strive or desire. Curiosity was nagging on him daily.

"Nearly done here," he said aloud as he finished pressing various things on his tablet. Grabbing a SC Cola from the cooler and headed to the cashier. An elderly lady with wrinkles like canyons was already in line. She was buying lottery scratch off tickets like she did every day in the morning.

"I feel really energetic this morning; I smell fortune!" the elderly lady said to the cashier while turning to see George behind her.

"Oh! You're that young man that was in here a few days ago weren't you?" she said with much excitement.

"Uh, yes I'm here every so often," George noticed her lottery tickets and remembered something odd from yesterday. He placed a hand to his chest feeling for something in his coat pocket.

"Well, am I glad to see you! The last time you were behind me just like this and I won like I never did before!" Her excitement was growing, and she did little to hide it.

"Really? How much you win?" he didn't care but didn't want to be rude. Another one of his parents' teachings, "Lottery and gambling are for the mathematically challenged." It was a simple concept. The odds of winning anything of note were low. Whatever could be won had to be used to pay back what was spent to earn a winning ticket.

If one buys a $30 ticket and wins $100 then you only won $70. Sadly, one would need to buy multiple $30 tickets to have a real chance at winning $100. Winning means breaking even.

"Could you do me a favor? I am having trouble deciding which number to pick this morning," she pointed to the scratch off ticket box.

There were tickets ranging in price from $1 to $30 and different scratch offs numbered from 1 to 24.

"Seven is a lucky number, right?" He thought to himself while inwardly sighing, "it's not my money so don't think too hard."

"I say pick seven." He replied without looking at the ticket box. The elderly lady spun around with glee, "Well, you heard the man. Seven it is."

The young female cashier smiled and handed the lady a number seven ticket after scanning it, "Now if you win big you should treat me to something," the cashier teased while ringing up her total.

"Well of course!" she paid and let George move up in line. He put his SC Cola on the table and handed the cashier the exact cost.

"Thank you, and don't work too hard George," the cashier waved, and he waved back.

Outside the store he began drinking the soda. He gulped and let out a breath of refreshment. Remembering his jacket pocket, he pulled out a card. It was a Mega Millions lottery ticket with the numbers 5 14 24 25 27 MB 14. His mood lowered as he thought about it. It appeared in his mail the day before with no mention of who it was from. Just the ticket without a letter or covering. His curiosity was growing higher than it ever had been before. This scared George. He did not want to believe or rely on luck.

He was content, or at least he was once content. Now? He was curious what laid beyond his reach.

Stuffing the ticket back in his coat pocket he could hear cheering from inside the store. Ignoring it he got in his car and headed for the next store.

Mid-drive George was startled out of thought by a phone call. It was from his longtime friend Jessy Prince.

"Hello this is George speaking."

"Hey, hey, King Midas! How's work?" Jessy was always glad to talk to whoever he could. George felt bad for him.

"How can he live alone in that house all day? That would drive me insane," George thought.

The two grew up together and when Jessy was old enough, he enlisted. In a freak training accident, he lost the right side of his body. Somehow a live grenade was in amongst the training fakes. That day he lost his right arm and leg. He blames himself for going too far away from his good luck charm: George Smith.

"Work is the same as always, how are you?"

"Oh, I'm great. In fact, I haven't felt this energetic since before the accident. Like I could take on the world!" Jessy made a battle cry.

"Really now? But you usually are fairly energetic," George parked his car at the next store.

"No, well yes, but I mean I feel odd. Like I'm being fueled by an energy I've never had," Jessy replied in a happy yet serious tone. George's interest was piqued. Jessy used silliness as his way of coping and rarely became serious. It was his way of proving that his speech meant more than just laughs.

"Interesting, could you elaborate?"

Uncharacteristically, Jessy gave a few moments of thought before giving is reply, "As you know, after the accident I began experimenting with all kinds of stuff to help me cope. And one such stuff was meditation."

"Are you saying you got some kind of break through with meditation?" George asked trying to hide his skeptical tone.

"I didn't finish, and no. What I learned from meditation is that I'm not into spiritual mumbo jumbo."

"Alright, then what is it?" George asked as he was recording things onto his tablet.

"I'm getting there. I meditate every day because it's relaxing. And because I meditate every day, I know how my breathing should sound and how my blood should pulse." Jessy made an, "Ooommmm," sound trying to mimic the stereotypical meditation sound.

"Thanks for the special effects," George teased while trying to figure out what Jessy was even talking about.

"No problem."

"So, via meditation you see something is off?"

"Essentially," Jessy stressed the 'E' at the beginning of the word, "My blood is pumping rhythmically and my breathing clear and calm. My heart is like a Hummer's powerful engine."

"And you don't feel sick?" George was concerned. He knew Jessy and for all his over-the-top silliness he would always avoid talking about himself. Jessy used to be a prideful person, but the accident took that to. He did not like talking about himself anymore because is pride told him there was nothing to be prideful of. He had a jacked bod before. While he was not the most handsome guy ever, he was decent looking. That coupled with his body builder physique made him feel like nothing could touch him. As long as he tried, he would naturally be the best. But then, the accident took everything. His body, career, future, and face. The explosion left horrid scarring on his face and body. As much as he tried, he could never find a new job. It was supposed to be illegal to discriminate against someone with disabilities, but how could he prove that in a court of law. He had no other skills outside of those in the military. After the accident he was less then the average person.

George completed his task at this store and drove off to the next.

"If this is what sick is supposed to feel like than I want to be sick forever!" Jessy laughed, "I don't feel sick, I feel powerful." The shift in tone was drastic.

"I don't really understand what you mean," George said with confusion.

"I don't really understand what I'm feeling," Jessy mimicked Georges tone.

"Well, if you don't feel sick then it should be fine. I have some more work to get done. I can talk later," George said trying to end the conversation.

"Alright. And I'll hold you to having another conversation," Jessy said as he attempted to collect himself. Before he could hang up the call George spoke again, "Did you send a lottery ticket in the mail?"

"Ha, ha, I would like some extra cash, but I'm not that desperate." Jessy laughed as he imagined stuffing Georges mailbox full of lottery tickets, "why do you ask?"

"Oh, um, well someone anonymously sent me a lottery ticket." George pulled it out while driving to inspect it.

"Well, well, well, someone has discovered your powers my liege. What shall we do? Call the dog squad to sniff them out? Or mayhap set a trap?" Jessy said in his best British butler voice. Jessy could sense Georges irritation, so he probed deeper, "My King? Are you there King Midas?"

"Never mind. It's probably nothing. Talk to you later," George hung up the call with a sigh. While pocketing his ticket and phone he pondered.

"He feels powerful? What does that even mean?" George thought.

After the call, the day went by fast. Shop to shop, location to location. Interestingly, at each site he would hear at least one person mention that they feel energetic. When he thought about that elderly woman from the first store, he remembered what she first said, "I feel really energetic this morning!"

"Does this have any connection to Jessy? Does this have any meaning at all?" He felt weird for pondering such coincidences as if they were important.

"Never mind, just forget about it."

He parked his car at a paid parallel parking spot. It was near time for him to quit for the day. Before going home, he liked to stop by a local hole-in-the-wall donut shop called Pharaoh's Donuts. It was a small shop located at the bottom of a rather tall building. Pharaoh's are supposed to be ridiculously rich kings of Egypt. Even though the shop possesses such a name as Pharaoh, it is run down and shabby. Of course, the location itself is not what brought George there: it was the amazing donuts. In a way Pharaoh as a name works. Pharaoh equals rich and the donuts are rich in flavor.

Entering the shop George headed for the counter and eyed a fresh batch of chocolate long johns. After purchasing a bag of them he went back toward the entrance and began consuming them.

He could hear a few customers behind him discussing how great they felt throughout the day. They said nothing that he hadn't already heard.

A radio program which had been playing a white noise abruptly mentioned the Mega Millions lottery winning numbers.

George hadn't been paying enough attention to hear what they were. It pained him to think that he actually cared.

He look out the front glass door and out across the city.

"What would it be like to be Pharaoh? or like a King George of old?" He thought inwardly scoffing. He looked down at the city below him seeing the buildings tall yet couldn't reach his height. A grin could be seen forming on the edges of his lips.

"What if I were king? I would rule with power and benevolence. I would strike fear into the hearts of my enemies. I would stir love and admiration in the hearts of my subjects," His mind lost in thought.

"I am THE IMMORTAL KING GEORGE!" He accidentally said out loud.

With embracement he looked around but saw no one in the front of the store. He let out a sigh of relief. All the customers were too busy buying donuts to care about George.

He looked back out across the cityscape. Taking in the sights of the bustling below. Thick puffy white clouds passed beneath him. A helicopter hovered near the building and suddenly it dawned on George. Something was wrong: terribly wrong.

Pharaohs Donuts is located on the first floor of the building. So how come he could look down on the city as if he was in a penthouse suite?

He looked down the side of the building and cold sweat burst across his body. In fear he plopped onto his rear and began shifting backwards.

"What's your deal man!," a customer barked as George backed into him. The angry customer side stepped George and headed for the door.

"WAIT! D-Don't!" George was too late. The man stepped outside and fell straight down screaming the whole way.

What George had noticed was the the building was suspended high up in mid air. At first, he just assumed he was still day dreaming, but the man just confirmed his fear.

"How were they floating?" he thought. All the remaining customers ran to the door to see what had happened. George stood back up. Beside him stood a small gold Pharaoh statue and a radio.

"We are still waiting for a call from the Mega Millions winner. There is $92 million on the line here. If you have the numbers 5 14 24 25 27 MB 14, then CONGRADULATIONS! Today is your lucky day!" The radio host said with enthusiasm.

George's heart nearly leapt out of his chest. With shaking hands he pulled the ticket from his pocket. He couldn't believe his eyes. These numbers are an exact match.

"Today is my lucky day," he said with a shaky voice.

Yet another odd occurrence was happening. He looked at the Pharaoh statue; it was floating. He let go of his ticket and it also floated. He felt a second wave of cold sweat.

"They aren't floating," George swallowed a lump in his throat, "the building is falling."

He felt weightless like he was in space. He had that feeling like he was in an elevator.

An elevator to death.

The building collided with the ground compressing on itself killing everyone inside.