The minute the back doors of the medical transport flew opened, she gasped, as the air around her seemed to suddenly disappear. Her eyes got big. She tried to speak, but nothing came out of her mouth. There was a sudden knot in the pit of her stomach, that wrenched her to her knees. It was him. The nice young officer who she always smiled and said, "hi" to. It was him. His face was stark white, and his uniform covered in blood. Immediately, Julie Albright, rookie E.R. nurse at the Los Alamos Medical Center, jumped into the back of the ground transport, taking over for the medic doing CPR. Her small frame mounted the gurney, straddling the young officer, as she continued CPR all the way into the ER room. The young nurse took a long deep breath, and looked down at the officer. He was still in his blood-covered uniform, which had partially been cut away to treat his wounds. His torn name tag dangled off his shirt. Joe Morgan. That's his name. Joe Morgan. Up until now, she had never put a name to the smiling face she often greeted around the medical center. It was at this precise moment, on that cold winter night in northern New Mexico, that her life was about to change. And hopefully, so would his.
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