Tim Washburn - Cyber Attack

Kansas City, Kansas

For most of the 18 million people caught off guard when the power goes off, it’s an irritant and an inconvenience. But it’s much more than that for the Thornton family, who live on the Kansas side of the border that cuts Kansas City in half. Thirty-nine-year-old Todd Thornton fumbles through the dark on his way into the kitchen to grab a flashlight, all the while talking to his thirteen-year-old daughter, Grace. “I’ll be right there, sweetie. I just need to find a flashlight.”

“I’m okay… Dad,” Grace says, exasperated.

He shuffles into the kitchen and starts opening drawers, feeling around for a flashlight. He knows he has a half dozen of them scattered around the house for situations such as this, but finding one is a different story when there’s no hint of light inside a darkened house. His callused fingers light on a cold, steel cylinder and he pulls it from the drawer and clicks it on, waving the beam around the room. “I found it,” he says to Grace.

“I can… see that.”

Todd moves around the breakfast bar and walks over to where his daughter is and kneels on the floor. He finds the button that displays the battery level and punches it. His heart sinks when he sees the indicator in the red.

“We’re good for a while,” he says, climbing to his feet. “I don’t know why the generator didn’t kick on. Guess I need to go see what’s wrong with it.”

“What’s… a while?” Grace asks. Using her mouth to activate the sip and puff functions on her wheelchair, she spins around to look at her father.

“Don’t worry, Gracie,” he says, taking a seat on the couch.

In the car with her mother when a drunk driver swerved across the centerline and plowed into their car on a sunny afternoon last summer, thirteen-year-old Grace Thornton survived and her mother, Sharon, did not. But for Grace, who is now a quadriplegic, Todd knows there are days when she wished she hadn’t, and that’s something they have to get through together. Unable to breathe on her own, Grace has a tracheostomy and relies on a ventilator to keep her alive.

What was once a family of three is now a family of two. Todd, who works full-time as a carpenter, has home-care providers to help with Grace’s care round the clock, but he prefers time alone with Grace a couple of hours during the evening so that he and Grace can chill in privacy. The settlement they received from the drunk driver’s insurance company pays for Grace’s care and there’s probably enough money to allow Todd to cut back on his hours. But his plan is to use that money to send Grace to college, an opportunity he was never afforded.

Todd is a tall, broad-shouldered man with a keen eye for detail. His carpentry skills are in high demand and his work appears in some of the most expensive homes in Kansas City. He and Sharon had bought a three-bedroom Craftsman bungalow in desperate need of repair the year before Grace was born. Sharon and Todd laughed and loved as they ripped out old flooring, installed new hardwood floors, and shopped for new appliances. Devastated after the accident, Todd worked through his grief as he widened the doors, built an entry ramp, and remodeled the bathroom—all to accommodate Grace’s wheelchair.

“Are you… going to check… on the… generator?” Grace asks. Most patients with a tracheostomy are unable to talk, but in Grace’s case she can still swallow, so the doctors decided on another type of trach tube that allows some air to pass through her vocal cords, allowing her to speak.

Todd glances at his watch. “I want to wait until Doris comes. She should be here in the next ten minutes or so.” Doris Martinez is the night caregiver who spends five nights a week staying at the Thornton home.

The ventilator’s battery level isn’t usually a concern. But Todd had taken the day off and he and Grace ran around town buying supplies and a few new outfits for school that starts next week. He wonders what’s wrong with the generator now. It’s used so infrequently and the last time it didn’t come on, Todd discovered that rats or squirrels had chewed through the plastic housing and went after the wiring. But he has to have it. Without that generator the hospital will not allow Grace to live at home. As an added precaution, Todd registered his daughter’s ventilator use with the local power company, making their home a priority for return to service.

“Will you… check to see… how much… battery… I have left… on my iPad?” Grace asks.

“I will. Would you like to read?”

“Yes.”

“Be right back.” Todd stands and returns to the kitchen to grab Grace’s iPad. While he’s there, he opens the cabinet where they keep Grace’s supplies and pulls out the manual resuscitator and places it on the counter, where it’ll be within easy reach. When he returns to Grace’s side, he lays the flashlight in her lap and mounts the iPad holder on her wheelchair and pops in her tablet. He then straps on Grace’s head-mounted stylus pointer, which she uses to turn the pages. “Is the headband too tight?”

“No… it’s fine… quit worrying… Dad… and go fix… the generator.”

Todd is torn. He would like Grace to experience as much independence as possible, but he hates leaving her alone, even for a second. There are just too many things that could go wrong—a ventilator hose could kink or slip off her trach tube and without the use of her hands, Grace would be unable to fix it on her own. Todd grabs the flashlight and kneels down to check the ventilator’s battery status again. It’s still in the red, but Todd doesn’t know how accurate the indicator really is because he has never allowed it to reach that level. He sits back on his heels, wondering if he can afford to wait any longer.

North Atlantic Ocean

The good news is the ship’s engineers have finally fixed the USS Stark ’s radio. The bad news is the radio now works. Both Admiral Richard Malloy and Captain Bruce Hensley received a tongue-lashing from the commander of the Atlantic Fleet unlike any the crew had heard before. Both are now relieved of duty and Executive Officer Kathleen Connelly is at the helm as they limp back to port. Only one of the engines is back online, but that’s okay with most of the crew. No one is in a real big hurry to find out what punishments may await back at the naval base.

As a steady stream of damage reports from Norfolk continues over the radio, Captain Hensley reads through his own damage report. He has been relieved of command, however, he hasn’t been banished to his quarters. The upper superstructure of the ship sustained heavy damage and they’re damn lucky no one was killed. Many of the injuries were superficial and most of the crew are back at work after being treated and released by the ship’s medical personnel. Hensley lays the report aside and stands, making his way across the room to where Malloy is seated. He pulls up a chair and sits.

“We should have canceled the entire Zumwalt program,” Malloy says.

“Why didn’t you?”

“Money. The navy had to have something to show for those billions spent over the years.”

“What happens to the ship now?”

Malloy shrugs. “I doubt any of the three will see the open sea again.” Malloy sighs. “Maybe we tried to do too much, too soon.”

“How so, sir?” Hensley asks. Talking helps him not think about his dismal future.

Malloy looks around the mission center. “The ship’s computers. No matter how hard you try, someone is always waiting to exploit a weakness. Maybe we would have been better off if we’d compartmentalized more and not tried to create this total ship computing environment.” He turns to look at Hensley. “Hell, I grew up watching three television channels. What the hell do I know about computers? But, I will say, we had some of the brightest people in the business working on this project and we still didn’t get it right.” Malloy looks away, staring at something in the distance. “What a mess.”