Rifled purses, trees de-barked by gunshots, pieces of clothing.  The trail of blood started, ran, stopped.  Dogs with protective muzzles since shooter drug stuff was everywhere.  "Maybe it's good you missed your appointment Ma."  The trail seemed to "run cold" about a half mile before the hospice building.  Some had gone towards the road; some back into suburbia.

  Blood smear, cracked window glass at the front doors.  

  "It's the same all over Europe." 

  "Oh, you been?" 

  The group of ladies had taken revolvers and pistols out of handbags, stockings, bras, and waistbands. 

  "Just got back." 

  Duck!  Hide!  Within seconds all were out of sight. 

  "Then that'll be another one," the person knifing the hostage's elbow and arm behind back called back into the building.  "ON YOU!" He hollered and pointed the gun.  "Find out what they want."  The ear piece said.