The Sterling-Khan Community Clinic was dark, save for the emergency lights. Julian Sterling was mopping the hallway for the third time when he heard it–a sharp *crack*, followed by the rushing roar of water.
He ran toward the records room. A main pipe in the ceiling had burst–likely old plumbing, or perhaps something more sinister–and water was cascading down toward the filing cabinets that held the paper records of the neighborhood’s uninsured patients.
“No,” Julian gasped.
He reached for his phone to call the fire department, but then he looked at the rising water. By the time they arrived, the files–and Maya’s life’s work–would be pulp.
Julian pocketed his phone. He grabbed a heavy tarp from the supply closet and threw it over the servers. Then, the “Penitent” went to work. For three hours, the former billionaire hauled heavy boxes of files to high ground, wading through freezing, dirty water. He used his own body to brace a shelf that was buckling under the damp weight. He didn’t stop to think about his ruined jumpsuit or his aching back. He simply worked, driven by a desperate need to save the only thing Maya had left.