Tim Washburn - Cyber Attack

“Get out of where?” Campbell asks, taking a seat on the edge of the desk.

“I don’t know. But her voice sounded urgent. I think she meant get out of the city.”

“We haven’t been told squat, but leaving the city is not a bad idea,” Campbell says. “We’ve been without power for a few hours and it’s already going to hell. I hate to think what tomorrow will bring if the power doesn’t come back on.”

Jacobs returns, carrying a beat-up pair of sneakers. She hands those and a pair of socks to Peyton. “They’re well used, but they’re a damn sight better than what you had.”

“Thank you,” Peyton says, gently pulling on the socks. “I don’t know how we can thank all of you enough.”

“We’re here to serve,” Officer Evans says. “Just doin’ our job, ma’am.”

“I think you’ve gone well beyond the call of duty,” Peyton says, slipping on the shoes. “So, thank you very, very much.” Peyton stands to give the new shoes a try. They’re a bit big, but they’re a hell of a lot better than the heels she started the day in and much better than those she created from the sofa cushion. She puts a hand on Eric’s back. “Can you walk?”

Eric stands to test out his injured body. “Yeah, I can walk.”

“I’d offer to drive you, but I don’t think we’d get very far,” Jacobs says.

“You’re right,” Eric says as he walks forward a couple of steps. “I don’t know how you are going to clear all of those abandoned vehicles.”

“That’s not something we’re going to worry about right now,” Campbell says. “It’ll work out, eventually.”

Peyton steps over to Jacobs and gives her a hug, before moving on to Evans, and finally to Sergeant Campbell. She breaks the embrace and steps back. “Thanks again for everything.”

Jacobs says, “Hold up a sec,” before turning and heading down the hallway.

She returns moments later with a half a dozen bottles of water in a grocery sack and a T-shirt for Eric. She hands both to Peyton. “Eric, you need fluids. Try to drink as much of that water as you can.”

After one final round of good-byes, Eric and Peyton venture out into the unknown.

Attica

After studying the floor plans of the prison, Captain Scott Butler now believes that Officer Darnell is correct—the only safe approach is through the front door. Laid out in a square, the four cellblocks form a perimeter around four separate outdoor areas. They’ll enter through cellblock A, which runs north and south with cellblock B on the opposite side of the prison. Cellblocks C and D run east to west, completing the square. To make matters more difficult, each cellblock has access to a tunnel that divides the four fields, with Times Square positioned at the intersection of the four tunnels.

Butler closes the lid on his military-provided laptop and runs a hand across his face. He knows his men are getting itchy and the longer they delay the more time they have to think about what might lie ahead. Butler steps over to the side window of the truck and places his computer on the front seat. They could plan for days and still not come up with a scenario where he and his men wouldn’t have to enter the prison. After hitching up his pants and tightening his armored vest, Butler picks up his M4 carbine and walks over to the gathering of state troopers to coordinate radio communications.

Troopers from Troop A will take their long guns and head for the watchtowers that are situated on the four corners of the inside prison yard. Correctional officers will continue to man the watchtowers along the exterior wall and they are also armed with rifles. State policemen from Troops E and C, armed with shotguns, will accompany Butler and his men inside. The officers in Troop B will stand in reserve and all the external traffic will run through Major Clyde Pierce, the area commander for the New York State Police. Butler takes Pierce by the elbow and leads him away from the group.

“What have you heard from headquarters?” Butler asks.

“Concerning what, Captain?” Pierce asks. A short man at five-six, Pierce is built like a fireplug.

“Our orders.” The commingling of troops hasn’t been an easy process and Pierce has made it known that he’s pissed his well-trained troopers are under Butler’s command. Not that Butler gives a damn.

“Apparently you’ve received all the orders. They haven’t told us shit,” Pierce says, crossing his arms across his thick chest.

Butler, a head taller than Pierce, takes a step closer and lowers his voice, saying, “You better shape the fuck up, Major. We don’t have any idea what we’re going to run into inside those prison walls, but I’m not going to have you out here fucking up my mission. If you don’t like it you can haul ass and I’ll find someone else. Otherwise, be the leader you’re supposed to fucking be.” Butler takes a step back. “Understood?”

Pierce takes a moment, but eventually says, “Understood, Captain. You can rely on me.”

“Thank you, Major Pierce. We’ve got a lot more serious shit to worry about rather than trying to mark our territory.”

Pierce smiles, momentarily breaking the tension. “You don’t talk like any dentists I know.”

“That’s because at this moment, I’m not a dentist. Today, I’m a soldier just like you and your men.” Although they’ve reached some type of temporary truce, Butler decides to keep his orders to himself. He glances at his watch. “We’re going inside in four minutes.” Butler turns and makes his way over to a group of corrections officials who are huddled near the entrance to the administration building. “Four minutes,” Butler tells them. He steps over to the prison’s warden and asks for a word in private. The warden obliges and they move away from the group.

“Where am I likely to find the guards that might still be alive?”

The warden, Albert Diaz, takes a moment to think. “Inside the Times Square guard post and armory and the medical facility, for sure. Other than that, I just don’t know.”

Butler looks up at the sky. “It’ll be dark soon. What’s the fuel status for the generators?”

“They’re tied in to a thousand-gallon fuel tank. Shouldn’t be a problem.” Diaz pauses then says, “But the generators are old, Captain. They can be cantankerous.”

“Great. Put a couple of your maintenance men in there to baby them along. My plan is to lock down as many inmates as possible in the nearest cells available and I can’t do that if the power fails again.” Butler pauses as another ambulance passes by. Right now, there are more than fifty parked haphazardly around the entrance, waiting for the wounded. “Priority for the wounded will be staff first, followed by the injured inmates. The remaining staff will be sheltered in the auditorium.”

“It sounds like you have a good handle on the situation, Captain. But, let me remind you that some of the meanest and most violent criminals ever convicted in this state are now loose inside the walls behind me. I don’t say that to frighten you, but you need to prepare yourself for what you’re likely to find. The safety and security of your men and any remaining staff is paramount and that should be at the forefront of your mind as you enter the prison.”

Butler, finding the last statement odd, cocks his head to the side. “So you’ve spoken with the governor and are aware of his orders?”

“I have, Captain, and yes, I’m aware of his orders.”

“And that’s okay with you?”

Diaz looks down at his shoes for a moment before looking back up. “All I’m saying, Captain, is do what you think needs to be done.”

“To be clear, Warden, we won’t murder unarmed prisoners.”