Tim Washburn - Cyber Attack

Eric takes the shotgun and stands guard over their pitiful little wagon while the other three strip down to their underwear, grab the soap and shampoo, and wade out into the water. Because of his bullet wound, Eric and Peyton decided that the risk of infection outweighs his need for a bath so he takes a seat on the sand and people-watches. Fearing conflict, he avoids speaking to anyone as he surveys the crowd, his gaze continually returning to Peyton and Allison as they bathe. Jordan can take care of himself, however, Eric fears for the women’s safety in this new world they’re living in. He’s not sensing any danger at the moment, but he knows that could change in a heartbeat.

The three eventually return and Jordan carries the buckets out to deeper water to fill them. Eric, still carrying the shotgun, helps Jordan lug the heavy buckets back to the wagon. Once everyone is dressed, Eric hands the shotgun off to Jordan and grabs the wagon handle, groaning to get it moving. It’s a struggle in the sand, but the situation improves dramatically when they hit the asphalt.

“You three go ahead,” Jordan says. “I’m going to make sure no one follows us.”

“You really think someone would come after us?” Allison asks.

Jordan points at the wagon laden with buckets of water. “The buckets and the wagon are hot commodities about now. Plus, where would you rather sleep? In a tent surrounded by thousands of others or in a comfy bed with some privacy?”

“Point made,” Allison says. “Don’t linger too far back.”

“I won’t,” Jordan says.

Eric takes up the wagon again as they begin their journey back home. What the future holds is unknown. All they can do is survive.

Buffalo

With the power still out in Buffalo, Dr. Scott Butler hasn’t had to worry about patients. Taking a break from drilling teeth day after day is a relief yet he remains busy despite the closing of his office. He and his troops continue to patrol the few city streets that are passable, although most everything that’s worth having was looted days ago. The mindless, endless driving allows Butler’s mind to drift and that’s not a good thing, especially with the images from inside Attica still freshly imprinted on his brain. Three times this week he has awakened in the middle of the night because of recurring nightmares. His wife, Linda, keeps asking if he’s okay and that only pisses him off. No, he’s not okay and may not be for a long time. But he can’t describe what they encountered at the prison to his wife, who has no concept of what one human can do to another.

“Cap, I see somebody walking in a store up the street,” Lieutenant Fred Parker says from behind the wheel.

“What store?” Butler asks.

“I think it’s a shoe store.”

“Maybe they need a new pair of shoes,” Butler says.

“Want me to stop?”

“Hell no.”

“If we’re not stopping at the shoe store to check for looting, what are we doing out here?” Parker asks.

“We’re quelling the violence.”

“I don’t see much violence, Cap.”

Butler shrugs. “We’re out here because we’ve been ordered out here. And if General Moore has anything to say about it, we’ll probably be driving these same streets at the same time next year.”

“What did you do to piss him off?”

“I disobeyed a direct order.”

“Why in the hell did you do that?”

“Because I didn’t agree with it, that’s why.”

“What was the order?”

“It doesn’t matter now.” Butler stares out the side window for the next two blocks. He and Parker are alone in the truck. Other trucks from their unit are out and about, but Butler decided two people per truck is all this mission requires, allowing him the ability to rotate troops through while also allowing them time at home. He turns to look at Parker. “Are you having trouble sleeping, Freddy?”

Parker nods. “Some. I keep waking up in the middle of a nightmare.”

“The same one?”

“No. Different nightmares, but same subject.”

“Attica?”

“Ding, ding, ding, give that man a prize,” Parker says in his best game show host voice. “Are you having trouble sleeping?”

“Some. I have the same issue you do.”

“Is the Guard going to spring for some counseling?”

“Yeah, but with the power off no one’s working.”

“The general approved it?” Parker asks, surprise in his voice.

“Nope. I went over his head to the governor. That’s just one more reason he’s pissed at me.”

“Yeah, well, fuck him. He’s probably sitting on his fat ass up at headquarters.”

“I imagine you’re right.” Butler checks the side mirror to see if anyone is coming up behind them. There isn’t and that’s not surprising. The first part of the week the unit cleared a few of the main roads, pushing vehicles out of the way with their large trucks. But not many drivers are out on the road because there’s not really anywhere to go. Hospital staff come and go, but the rumor is their fuel supply is almost gone. Butler wonders what’ll happen to the patients when that happens.

Thinking about the hospital makes him thirsty for a cup of coffee. “Freddy, swing by Buffalo General so we can check on Clark and Perez.” Lieutenant Gary Clark is still hanging on and Perez ended up with broken ribs and a ruptured spleen the doctors had to remove.

“We checked in with them this morning and both are doing fine. You just want another cup of coffee.”

“Guilty,” Butler says. They ride in silence for a while, looking out at the looted stores. Their first day on patrol was hectic as they chased down looters and put them in jail, despite the shoot-to-kill order. But the jail filled up quickly and, by day three, they pretty much gave up on arresting anyone else. It’s hard to take a person to jail—or, God forbid, kill someone—when they’re starving and scavenging for food. Butler’s food situation is okay for the moment after divvying up all the MREs and other food supplies at Guard headquarters. They won’t be flush with food forever and, according to word passed down through the ranks, it could be a while before the power is back on. Butler knows he’ll be scrounging for food somewhere down the road, but that’s a worry for another day.

Parker pulls into the hospital parking lot and kills the engine. They pile out and head into the hospital, stopping at the coffeepot on the way. In the ER they run into Linda Butler, the captain’s wife, who’s volunteering while the dental office is closed. Parker says hello and then makes himself scarce.

Linda gives her husband a hug. “I scavenged a few sleeping pills for you,” she whispers in his ear.

“I don’t need any damn pills,” Scott angrily whispers.

“We’re not going to argue about this, Scott. You’re exhausted and grumpy as hell,” Linda says before breaking the embrace and stepping back. “I still love you, though.” She reaches out and tenderly places a hand on her husband’s cheek. “You need to put what happened in that prison behind you, babe.”

“How exactly do I do that?” Butler asks.

Linda lowers her hand. “By talking it through. If you’re not going to talk to me, then talk to Freddy or someone else who endured that hellhole. Keeping it bottled up inside is not an option. And you know that.”

Butler nods. “I know, but if I talk about it I’m afraid I’ll relive it.”

“Maybe some of it. But right now, you’re reliving it every night. Maybe you should go talk to Tracy Green. I thinks she’s in the hospital today.”

“I’m not talking to a shrink. Hell, that woman’s got more than one screw loose.”