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“Dr. Daniels! His BP is dropping!” yelled, Dr. Harris the anesthesiologist.

Marianne pulled the overhead lamp closer.

“One moment! I can retrieve the bullet.” I clamped down on the bullet, removing it from the tissue in Jordan’s brain. “I got it!” I dropped the bullet into the surgical tin Pamela held.

I exhaled and smiled. “We did it!”

I glanced at the monitors. Jordan’s blood pressure stabilized. My small team of five surgery nurses and Dr. Harris shared in my joy.

“I’ll repair the damage. Then we can close.”

I stared into Jordan’s face. “You did well,” I stated through my blue mask.

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