Tim Washburn - Cyber Attack

“Do we need to replay it or enhance it?” Paige asks.

“No. There’s only one ship currently at sea that has that bow and superstructure configuration.”

“Which ship is it, then?” Paige asks.

“The USS Stark .”

Paige and Natalie dance a little jig. “Hot damn. We’ve got the bastards,” Paige says.

“Not yet, we don’t,” Hank says, pushing to his feet. “For some reason they wanted us to find them.”

“Who?” Natalie asks.

“Someone on the inside of their operation.”

“Why would they do that?” Paige asks.

“I don’t know. That’s what we need to find out.” Hank runs a hand through his hair. “Natalie, you finish up with the fix for the malware. Paige, find some clean clothes and gather up your things. I need to make some calls.”

—BREAKING NEWS—United States facing cyber attack? More details to follow…

—BREAKING NEWS—SECOND attack on Naval Station Norfolk. Further damage reported. Attackers unknown. President raises threat level to DEFCON 3. Multiple ships sunk. Many confirmed fatalities.

The military has confirmed that several ships have been sunk. Military leaders think the nation’s latest warship, the beleaguered Zumwalt-class destroyer, may have been hacked. Search and rescue operations are still under way. More details to follow…

—BREAKING NEWS—Power outage occurs in large swath of the Midwest. As many as 18 million people may now be without electricity.

Several power company executives report their computer systems have been compromised. Hackers have apparently targeted several supervisory control and data acquisition (SCADA) systems. More details to follow…

—BREAKING NEWS—Power out in parts of New York State. New York City included in outage. National Guard troops called up in city.

After multiple reports of looting, the governor of New York has called up the National Guard to patrol the streets of New York City . We have heard unconfirmed reports that the Guard has been ordered to shoot to kill. More details to follow…

—BREAKING NEWS—Possible prison riot at Attica Correctional Facility in western New York State. Reports confirm significant loss of life. National Guard troops said to be entering prison. More details to follow…

Lexington Park, Maryland

Roger Rinsky had a miserable night. Yesterday, soon after leaving the golf course, it felt like he had a bad sunburn, but by dinnertime blisters had cropped up on his arms, face, and legs. At bedtime the vomiting began and for the first time, he wished he’d evacuated when they told him to. Deep into the night, the diarrhea started and Rinsky ending up messing the bed, forcing him to move to the sofa in the living room. This morning it has all coalesced and he hasn’t left the bathroom in two hours. With daylight breaking, Rinsky knows he needs help or he’s going to die hugging the porcelain throne.

He’s severely dehydrated, his movements are sluggish, and standing or walking is out of the question. So Rinsky begins to crawl, desperate to reach the cell phone on his nightstand. After his wife died three years ago, Rinsky moved into an apartment in a small retirement community across the Patuxent River in Lexington Park. As his grief waned over the passing of his wife, Rinsky started playing golf every morning and chasing the ladies in the afternoons and evenings. And that led to his current predicament. His girlfriend, Dorothy, moved out last month after she walked in on Roger and her best friend, Susie, participating in a little afternoon delight. Now Rinsky is alone and it’s looking like he might just die that way.

Rinsky makes it to the entrance to his bedroom and he can see his phone on his nightstand. The distance is maybe seven feet, but to Rinsky it looks like a mile. After taking a deep breath, he begins to crawl again, his guts roiling and cramping. He can feel the diarrhea coming, but there’s little he can do about it as he crawls forward another foot, leaving a brown trail in his wake.

His addled mind drifts. He wonders how much radiation he was exposed to when the Calvert Cliffs nuclear plant exploded. And what about Moretti and the others? Are they shittin’ and pukin’ their guts out? Rinsky shakes his head in an attempt to clear his mind. But that triggers another round of nausea, and he pukes. There’s nothing left in his stomach except bile, awaiting its turn to break down his next meal, a meal that’s now in doubt. Rinsky wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and crawls forward another two feet. He raises his hand in a feeble attempt to reach the phone and he realizes it’s just out of his grasp.

With one last surge of energy, Rinsky lowers his head and crawls, bumping his head against the nightstand. He exhales a stuttering breath and reaches up for his phone. He punches the button to light the screen and nothing happens. Rinsky screams with frustration, fumbles around for the power cord, and plugs in the phone. Rolling over onto his back, he waits for the phone to power up. He pokes and prods the blisters on his face, then looks at the ones on his arms. Some of his skin is turning black and that puzzles him. Jesus, it’s not like he was inside the plant when the damn thing blew up. Hell, they were at least four miles away. He lowers his arms and stares at the ceiling, berating himself for not listening to Moretti. If he hadn’t been so damn stubborn they could have made it back to the clubhouse when the sirens first sounded. And that might have allowed him time to set things right with Dorothy. But then his mind turns to Susie and their recent tumbles in the hay and all thoughts of Dorothy disappear. It’s Susie and her magic mouth that take center stage in his mind. But he’s now in such poor shape he can’t even get a hard-on.

He checks the phone again. It’s not charging and that’s when he remembers the power is out. Rinsky mutters a string of curse words that would make a sailor blush and rolls over. He pushes himself up to his hands and knees and starts crawling again. His only hope now is to crawl outside and hope someone is around to help him.

Exiting the bedroom, he pauses to vomit again. He’s as weak as a day-old kitten, yet once he clears the bedroom his sole focus is the front door. A Galápagos giant tortoise moves slowly, but today it would win a race against Rinsky, hands down. Halfway across the room, he falters, collapsing to his belly. His shoulders are burning and his knees are a bloody mess from the popped blisters. Rinsky rests for a moment, then uses his forearms to drag himself across the floor. With sweat dripping from his face and his throat parched, he finally makes it to the door.

Grimacing against the pain, he reaches up and turns the knob. Unfortunately, the door opens inward so he has to push himself back to gain clearance, the skin on his knees shredding on the tile. He eventually gets the door open wide enough to get through and he slithers out onto the concrete stoop. He looks around hoping to spot a neighbor, but there’s not a soul around. This time Rinsky doesn’t even have the energy to curse when he remembers the evacuation order and his refusal to leave.

After resting for a while, Rinsky pulls himself farther down the sidewalk, hoping to get out of the shadow of his apartment building in case someone comes by looking for him. He snakes his way across the wet grass and into the scant shade of a recently planted oak tree.

He’s there three hours later when he coughs a final time and gasps a final breath.

Calvert Cliffs