Tim Washburn - Cyber Attack

Right now, Paige and Natalie aren’t concerned with how the malware arrived. They’re more interested in how to kill it while also searching for digital fingerprints that might tell them who is behind the attack.

Natalie looks up from her computer. “You were right, Paige. I’ve found a self-destruct sequence buried in one of the payloads.”

Paige leans back in her chair, thinking. After several moments, she says, “Why don’t we write a piece of software to target and trigger that specific payload?”

Natalie contemplates that for a moment “Jesus, could it really be that simple?”

“Why not?” Paige asks.

In her excitement, Natalie leans forward and pecks Paige on the lips. “You’re brilliant.”

Paige is momentarily taken aback. But now she thinks she knows what “another direction” means.

Chicago

Sometime later, Peyton wakes and sits up, momentarily confused about her surroundings. Then she remembers the horrors of a few hours ago and why they’re now sleeping at Allison’s house. But that wasn’t what stirred her from sleep. It was a strange sound that registered somewhere in her subconscious. And it wasn’t Eric’s snoring. She’s grown accustomed to that. No, it sounded like a cat scratching on a door and she knows Allison doesn’t have a cat. She’s allergic to them.

Peyton slides out of the bed and feels her way toward the bedroom door in the darkness. There was no way in hell she was going to leave another candle burning unattended. She cracks the door open and sticks her head out, straining to hear. Maybe it’s a limb scraping against the side of the house. When you’re in a strange home, you don’t know what noises in the night to expect. Peyton knows that at her house the blower for the air conditioner had a slight rattle to it. Maybe Allison has a tree limb that brushes against the house when the wind blows.

Peyton hears a different noise and this time there’s no mistaking it for a tree branch. Someone is rattling the knob on the front door.

Peyton turns and says in an urgent whisper, “Eric, wake up. Someone’s trying to break into the house.” Peyton feels her way around the bed and shakes Eric. “Wake up.”

“What?” Eric asks as he rolls onto his back.

“Shhh, keep your voice down. Someone’s trying to break into the house.”

“It’s probably a tree limb or something,” he whispers to placate his wife.

“A tree limb is trying to open the front door?”

“Fuck, is this day ever going to be over?” Eric mutters as he gingerly climbs out of bed. “Where’s the shotgun?” he whispers to Peyton.

“You left it by the front door.”

“That wasn’t very damn smart, was it? Flashlight?”

“Hold out your hand,” Peyton whispers.

“No, you keep it. I can’t handle the gun and the light at the same time.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Click on the flashlight and light the way, but stay behind me. Once I have the shotgun, you take cover and turn off the light.”

“What are you going to do?” Peyton whispers.

“I guess I’m going to open the front door.”

“And do what?”

“Hell, I don’t know, Peyton. I work at a goddamn bank. I guess we’ll play it by ear.”

“How are you going to see who’s at the door?”

“When I shout ‘Now’ you hit them with the light.”

“Okay,” Peyton whispers. She clicks on the flashlight and covers most of the lens with her hand.

They exit the bedroom and creep down the hall as Allison opens the door to her bedroom. “What’s going on?” she whispers as she pulls on a robe.

“Someone’s trying to break in,” Peyton whispers.

Allison gasps. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure,” Peyton says.

Allison falls in behind them. At the entrance to the living room Eric spots the shotgun leaning against the wall. He walks carefully across the hardwood floor, hoping there are no creaks to announce his presence. After he picks up the shotgun, Peyton kills the light. Eric can’t remember if he chambered a round or not. He feels around the trigger guard and finds the button that unlocks the chamber and slowly racks the slide. He feels around inside the chamber and finds a shell already seated. Slowly, he slides the chamber closed and steps over to the door. Holding the shotgun in his right hand, he reaches out his left, turns the lock, and flings open the door.

“Now,” Eric shouts.

Peyton clicks on the light as Eric raises the shotgun, his finger on the trigger. The beam lands on a man standing at the door, and Eric is a second away from pulling the trigger when Allison screams and the man shouts, “Wait! Don’t shoot!”

Eric looks down the gun barrel at the man before him. “Jordan?”

“It’s me. It’s me.” Jordan bends down and puts his hands on his knees, on the verge of hyperventilating.

“What are you doing here?” Eric asks, lowering the gun. Allison brushes past and wraps an arm around her husband.

“I guess I could ask the same thing,” Jordan says. He stands up straight and Allison leads him inside. “What happened to your house? I saw some embers still glowing,” Jordan says as he sags onto the sofa, still trembling.

“Long story,” Peyton says, taking a seat in one of the side chairs. “We thought you were in Seattle.”

“I was. There were five of us from Chicago out there and the company decided to charter a plane to fly us home. I had to walk all the way from the damn airport in the dark.”

Allison takes a seat next to her husband. “Why didn’t you use your key to unlock the door?”

“My keys are at the office.” Jordan looks at Eric. “I thought you were going to blow my head off.”

“I almost did,” Eric says apologetically. “Now that you’re home, you can take over gun duties.”

Jordan nods. “How long has the power been off here?”

“Most of the day,” Allison says. “And Peyton thinks it might be off for a while.”

Jordan looks at Peyton. “How long?”

Peyton shrugs. “I don’t know. Weeks, maybe.”

“How do you know this?” Jordan asks.

“My sister called, but the call dropped. Basically all I heard was ‘get out.’”

“Of the city?” Jordan asks.

“That’s my interpretation. Was the power still on in Seattle?”

“Yeah, it was. But flying in we saw a lot of darkness. I’d say most of the Midwest is without power.”

“How did you land at O’Hare if it was dark?”

“It was dicey. We didn’t have much choice. The plane was low on fuel. Luckily the pilots fly out of here all the time and they know the airport well. I’m sure they violated a page-long list of regulations, but it was either land or crash.” Jordan stands. “We can talk more in the morning. Right now, I’m wiped out.”

Eric stands and Jordan takes the shotgun from him.

“Were you going to pull the trigger?” Jordan asks.

Eric thinks about it for a moment. “Yeah, I was.”

Attica

At the entrance to the prison infirmary, Captain Scott Butler calls his senior officers together. Luckily the generator is still running on this side of the prison, allowing them a chance to see what’s going on inside the hospital. From what they can tell there are at least fifteen inmates inside with four hostages, all located inside the main room on the hospital’s second floor. “I don’t want to get involved in a long standoff,” Butler says. “What are our options?”

“We put snipers with thermal image scopes on top of the buildings on either side of the hospital,” Sergeant Hugo Vasquez says, “then kill the power.”