Jack Morrison. Thirty-five. Chicago.
# The Graywater City Rain had been falling on Chicago for three days when Jack Morrison woke up on the sidewalk outside a bar on State Street. He did not know his name. He did not know where he was. He did not know how he had gotten there. What he knew was this: he was a doctor. He knew how to stitch a wound, set a bone, cauterise an artery. He knew the anatomy of the human body the way a man...
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