Oh, jeez, that's what was about to shred his back apart?! Radar makes a tiny hiccuping noise and touches the rips in his shirt again. If he wakes up tomorrow and needs to dig up some penicillin from the tiny stash the doctors've got, boy.

Then she starts talking.

...

It's funny, thinks Radar dimly, how much he cared about those razors a couple seconds ago. One moment he's standing, and then he's sitting in his chair without much of an idea how he got there. Staring, uncomprehending, at Vickie's face, searching it like he didn't hear her right.

The problem is: Radar always hears everything right.

So small it's barely audible, he says, "Father Mulcahy killed someone?"