The serrated edge of Dr. Victor Tallow’s bone-saw hovered less than two inches above the brass links of Elena’s wrist chain.
Julian Vance did not hesitate.
He stood behind the gray steel terminal cabinet of Nurse Station 4B.
His yellow China-marker grease pencil was clamped between his teeth.
His left thumb rested on the black spring-loaded toggle switch of his modified telemetry test lead.
“Julian, he’s cutting!” Elena screamed from the doorway of Room 412.
Her knuckles were white against the unchained White Master Rounding Clipboard.
Her rubber boots remained dug into the green linoleum floor seam.
