“No,” said Christine. “I was saying… anyway, it’s ketchup. I was thinking I’d pour a bottle of club soda on it and see if that helps.”

“Naw,” said Don. “You’ll never get that out.”

“Oh well,” said Christine, hoping to wrap things up. Don was giving her the creeps, jumpsuit notwithstanding.

“This looks like the same layout as Mrs. Frobischer’s condo,” he said.

“Yeah, I suppose it is,” said Christine. “Anyway, I should probably….”

“I’ve got the exact amount of linoleum you need for this space in my van. I’d give you a great deal, since I’m already here and the linoleum is already cut to size. Fifty percent off installation.”

“I doubt Mrs. Frobisher and I have the same taste in flooring,” said Christine.

“It’s a very nice pattern,” said Don, pushing her to the verge of goosebumps again. “Very universal. It’s a welcoming sort of pattern. Let me just go get it from the van. You’ll see what I mean.” He walked to the door.

Christine tried to object, but couldn’t come up with the words. Don returned a few minutes later with a roll of what she had to admit was perfectly nice breakfast nook flooring. Better than her carpet certainly, even without the ketchup stains. Don was right: it was a very welcoming pattern. He offered to install it for $400 – far less than her deductible.

What the hell, Christine thought. That’s one problem out of the way, with minimal expense and effort. She had the man’s name if anything went wrong: Don, from Don’s Discount Flooring. And after all, he was wearing a jumpsuit.

FIVE

Harry Giddings sat in his office on the fifth and top floor of the Banner’s headquarters and fretted. Harry had spent his life preparing, and now that he had done everything he could think of to prepare, he wasn’t sure what to do. He would have paced, but he had noticed that pacing tended to have a disquieting effect on the Banner’s staff, who could see his movements at the bottom of the horizontal shutters covering the plate glass windows on either side of his office door. He could have lowered the shutters all the way, but that would have tipped off the staff that he was pacing. So he fretted quietly in his office, unaware that what the staff feared most was the idea of Harry Giddings fretting quietly in his office.

Harry Giddings was a man of convictions – formidable, impregnable, inspirational and often contradictory convictions. Harry believed so many ridiculous and unjustified notions that the sheer weight of probability dictated that at least a few of them would end up being true. Thus it was that Harry’s belief that he would play a pivotal role in the impending Apocalypse was misguided, completely absurd, and entirely accurate.