The Flood Protocol
The rain in Brooklyn doesn't wash anything clean. It just makes the grime wetter. Dr. Thomas Callahan knew this better than most. Thirty-eight years old, one good leg, and a clinic on Atlantic Avenue that smelled of carbolic acid and resignation. He had seen everything a man could see—gang shootings, typhoid outbreaks, women who came in alone and didn't want to talk about what brought them...
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