One
David MacAvoy—whose friends called him Mack—was not an unlikely hero. He was an impossible hero.
First, there was the fact that he was only twelve years old.
And then there was the fact that he was not especially big, strong, wise, kind, or good-looking.
Plus he was scared. Scared of what? Quite a list of things.
He had arachnophobia, a fear of spiders.
Dentophobia, a fear of dentists.
Pyrophobia, a fear of fire, although most people have some of that.
Pupaphobia, a fear of puppets. But he was not afraid of clowns, unlike most sensible people.
Trypanophobia, a fear of getting shots.
Thalassophobia, a fear of oceans, which led fairly naturally to selachophobia, a fear of sharks.
And phobophobia, a fear of phobias. Which makes more sense than it may seem at first because Mack was always finding new fears. And it scared him to have more scary things to be scared of.
Worst of all, the horror among horrors: Mack had claustrophobia, a fear of cramped spaces. A fear, to put it as unpleasantly as possible, of being buried alive.
So this was not a twelve-year-old you’d expect to become one of the greatest heroes in human history—not the person you’d expect would try and save the world from the greatest evil it had ever faced.
But that’s our story.
One thing to rememb