Turns out that a good hazmat suit, with attached booties, gloves and zipper front closure can be purchased on Amazon for $799.95. Size medium and large were in stock. Craig promptly ordered one for himself and his wife, Eleanor. But finding two small sized “bunny” suits for his daughters was proving difficult. Instead, Walter White cooking meth in his lab costume, kept popping up. Craig’s anxiety ratcheted up two notches and so he stood, paced the room and nearly ran into Eleanor bringing him a soothing mug of hot chamomile tea. Craig, feeling ambushed, jumped. It wasn’t Eleanor’s fault. Her soft woolen booties, a prized possession from her years in the Peace Corps, enabled her to move about the house at night like a silent ghost.

Eleanor glanced at the computer screen and scoffed. Craig knew she would. But before she could launch into her litany of “Exhibit A” as she liked to call it; the jugs of water and cans of tuna from Y2K gathering dust in the garage, the moldy Tamiflu supply in the back of the medicine chest to combat the H1N1 pandemic that never happened, or the stack of mail that was never opened during the Anthrax scare, Craig held up his hand. “What if this is the one?” he pleaded. Eleanor held her tongue, not because she agreed, but because she knew that there was no arguing with him once he decided it was time to head to the bunkers.