Without another word, they conducted an emergency examination and then moved him back into the emergency room.
Randy Russo, who had just been rescued from the brink of death, once again lay on the operating table.
Several doctors prepared themselves, exchanging looks, their faces twitching simultaneously, each letting out a sigh. The chief surgeon took surgical scissors, swiftly snipped, and picked at the not-so-long-ago stitched thread on Randy Russo's abdomen...
It hadn't even been twenty-four hours, and Randy Russo's abdomen was sliced open again.
The doctors remained silent, systematically extracting a thin blue piece of plastic from Randy Russo's abdomen.
What is this?
Made of the same material as the surgical gowns they wore.
It was a piece of protective clothing that Miss Vanderbilt had used a blood-stained fruit knife to cut from herself, scrunched up, and tossed into Randy Russo's abdomen.
