"You're talking about the second coming, Christine. Christ returning in glory. It's not a bad thing."

"Right, but evidently Christ can't return until the earth has been turned into a molten slag heap, which kind of blows. I just don't get why the Prince of Peace has such a destruction fetish. Can't He just swing by in glory some sunny Tuesday after lunch?"

"Careful, Christine. Remember that the tribulations of the End Times are the result of man's sin. It isn't Christ who desires destruction."

"Exactly! He doesn't want it, we don't want it. Po-tay-to, po-tah-to, let's call the whole thing off."

The Antichrist returned, bearing a Dr Pepper. "The selection of snacks in your vending machine sucks. Did you say something about potato chips?"

"No," Christine said. "We were talking about "

"Stopping earthquakes," said Harry.

"That's stupid," said Karl. "You can't stop earthquakes."

"Precisely," said Harry. "They just..."

Karl pulled the tab on the can. There was a pop and a hiss.

"...happen," finished Harry.

The floor shook beneath their feet.

Christine clutched the edge of Harry's ma.s.sive oak desk with her right hand as the room shook. Harry's oversized Bible was still in her left. "Oh no," she said, sounding more like a mother scolding a habitually misbehaving child than someone afraid for her life. She was starting to get fed up with almost dying in a freak disaster.

Karl was standing in the middle of the room, arms spread and feet splayed, like someone trying to balance on top of a seesaw. Harry was in the process of trying to crawl under his desk.

The Banner's Banner's offices were on the fifth and top floor of the building, so the vibrations of the earthquake were alternately softened and magnified as they worked their way up the structure. While the bottom of the building jerked and rumbled, the top swayed and snapped like the boughs of a willow tree. Ceiling tiles fell and walls groaned. Harry's computer crashed to the floor. It went on, and on, and on. offices were on the fifth and top floor of the building, so the vibrations of the earthquake were alternately softened and magnified as they worked their way up the structure. While the bottom of the building jerked and rumbled, the top swayed and snapped like the boughs of a willow tree. Ceiling tiles fell and walls groaned. Harry's computer crashed to the floor. It went on, and on, and on.

"I'm going to be sick," said Karl, still holding the can of Dr Pepper, which was now spewing its contents on the floor.

Christine felt the same. Just fall down already Just fall down already, she thought to the building. Her goals in life had been reduced to keeping her breakfast down until she was crushed by falling concrete.

Just when it seemed that the building couldn't possibly take any more, an interplanar portal opened in the floor, right in the middle of the room.

Christine didn't know know it was an interplanar portal, of course. It was roughly circular, about three feet in diameter, and comprised of a strange interlocking pattern of glowing lines. It looked as if someone was shining a spotlight covered with a cardboard cutout pattern onto the floor. It looked so much like that, in fact, that the three of them momentarily looked at the ceiling. Their eyes found nothing to explain the illuminated pattern on the carpet. it was an interplanar portal, of course. It was roughly circular, about three feet in diameter, and comprised of a strange interlocking pattern of glowing lines. It looked as if someone was shining a spotlight covered with a cardboard cutout pattern onto the floor. It looked so much like that, in fact, that the three of them momentarily looked at the ceiling. Their eyes found nothing to explain the illuminated pattern on the carpet.

"Oh man," cried Karl. "This is it. I'm dead."

"Don't be stupid, Karl. You're not dead," shouted Christine, sounding more certain than she felt. But she realized somehow that she knew what the thing was.

"It's a doorway," she said. "Some kind of portal. I think someone is trying to help us get out of here."

"A doorway?" said Karl. "To where? h.e.l.l?"

"No!" shouted Harry, peering out from under his desk. "My work isn't done yet! Go away!"

"Does it matter?" said Christine. "We're dead if we stay here."

"Screw this," said Karl, as he stepped into the circle. His frame shimmered for a moment and then was gone.

The room pitched violently. A fluorescent light fell to the floor with a crash. Ma.s.sive cracks snaked along the walls.

"Harry!" yelled Christine. "This may be our only chance!"

"No!" cried Harry again. "I have to see it through! I'm not ready to die!"

"You're going to die if you stay here," shouted Christine. "We don't know what's on the other side of that thing. Maybe G.o.d is offering you a way out so you can finish your work."

A plate gla.s.s window shattered.

"You have to go through, Harry!"

"No! You do it!"

"I will, but I'm not leaving you here! I'll be right behind you."

Harry tentatively got to his feet, gripping the edge of the desk.

"I'm... scared," he said.

"Of course you're scared, Harry. But you have to do this. It's our only chance."

Harry crept toward the portal. One hand still held firmly to the desk. "But... I don't know what's on the other side," murmured Harry.

Christine let go of the desk and grabbed the Bible with both hands. She lifted it in the air and brought it down hard on Harry's white-knuckled hand. Harry screeched in pain, letting go of the desk.

"It's called 'faith,' Harry," growled Christine. "Look into it."

She shoved Harry with all her might toward the portal. He stumbled into it and disappeared. As the ceiling fell down around her, Christine dove after them.

NINETEEN.

Christine, Harry and Karl found themselves in an altogether strange and yet uncannily familiar place.

"Are we in h.e.l.l?" asked Karl fearfully.

"Close," said Harry, who was still visibly shaken but doing his best to regain his composure. "It looks like..."

"An airport terminal," finished Christine.

It did indeed resemble the concourse of a medium-sized airport. There were gates, waiting areas, and throngs of tired-looking individuals lugging baggage from one place to another. There were even shops with whimsical logos in a strange alphabet, places that presumably sold snow globes and baseball caps at entirely unjustifiable prices. Only one thing was missing.

"There are no planes," said Harry. "There are gates, but no planes. People seem to be arriving out of nowhere."

Then he noticed something like a hummingbird zipping towards them down the concourse. As it got closer, he realized that it was much bigger and creepier than a hummingbird. It was a small, fleshy pink man in what looked like a cloth diaper, with wings sprouting from his back.

"Taking in the view?" asked the winged creature.

"Sorry?" said Harry.

"Tell me," said the creature. "On the pathetic plane you came from, do the natives customarily wear each other as hats?"

"Er, no," said Harry.

"Then I suggest you move," it said. "You're standing on the portal. No telling when the next group will arrive."

They looked down to see a complex pattern etched into what looked like a fifteen-foot square sheet of marble.

"Yes," said the creature. "Take it all in. Why should you do what I tell you to do? It's not like I've been working here for eight thousand years or anything."

They shuffled sheepishly to the waiting area.

"Can you tell us where we are?" Christine asked.

"Certainly," said the creature. "First, though, I should like to give you a bit of advice."

"Er, okay," said Christine.

"To maintain freshness," the creature said, "keep mushrooms in a paper bag in the refrigerator."

"I've heard that," said Karl.

"Oh," said the creature sardonically. "Then I suppose it must must be true. If be true. If you've you've heard it. It's not like I've been working this job for nine thousand years or anything." heard it. It's not like I've been working this job for nine thousand years or anything."

"You said " Harry started.

"Who are are you?" Christine said. " you?" Christine said. "What are you? You look like a cherub... I mean, what I thought cherubs " are you? You look like a cherub... I mean, what I thought cherubs "

"Cherubim!" snapped the creature. "And I'll tell you who I am."

"Okay," said Christine.

"First, though," it said, "a bit of advice."

"Fine."

"To unstick a stubborn zipper, try rubbing a pencil over it several times."

"Why are you telling us these things?" Christine asked, bewildered. "Are we likely to find stubborn zippers and mushrooms here?"

"Why am I telling you these things?" the creature asked incredulously. "What kind of silly question is that? Is this your first time in a planeport? You realize that if you keep asking questions like that, it's going to cost you."

"We don't have any money," said Christine. "I mean, I've got a few dollars, but I don't even know what "

"Money!" the creature scoffed. "I work for tips!"

"I'm sorry," said Christine. "As I was going to say, I don't even know what kind of money "

"Not money!" the creature spat. "Tips. I work for tips. You know, how to get red wine out of cashmere. That sort of thing."

Christine frowned. "I don't know how to get red wine out of cashmere."

"Not yet you don't," said the creature. "But if you keep asking silly questions, you will."

"Hold on," said Harry. "You mean that you will help us in exchange for us listening to your your tips?" tips?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" said the creature.

"Yes," said Christine. "We would."

"Fine. Then I will tell you. First, however, a bit of advice."

"Wait," said Christine. "You still owe us one. You gave us two tips but you still haven't told us your name."

"My name," it said, "is Perpetiel. Perp for short."

"Okay, Perp," said Harry. "Where are we?"

"You really don't know?" asked Perp.

"Do people normally ask you questions they know the answer to?" said Christine, impatiently.

"Do you really want to know?" said Perp.

"No!" growled Christine. "I mean, that last one was a rhetorical question. But we do want to know where we are, even if it means you have to tell us how to get red wine out of cashmere."

"Oh, I'm not going to tell you that."

"Why not?"

"Because now you're curious about it. I'm not going to waste my advice answering questions you want to know the answer to. That's not how it works. By the way, you should always send a thank you note after a job interview."

"I couldn't care less about getting red wine out of cashmere," Christine lied. "Just tell us where we are."

"As you wish," said Perp. "If you don't want a cat to jump in your lap, avoid making eye contact with it."

"Really?" asked Karl.

"No, Karl," said Christine. "I'm pretty sure that one is wrong."

"Who cares?" said Harry. "Now he's got to tell us where we are."