13 Drops of Blood Read Online Free PDF

saw it coming and screamed in fear.
Penny didn’t see the dog until its blood splashed her in the face.
    As the animal bounced across several saws, she carelessly stepped away from the carnage. A 14-inch blade ripped her left foot––and her peach gala shoe––in half.
    The pain was immeasurable, beyond calculation. Falling backwards, she dropped her phone and screamed. Before she hit the floor her fingers stabbed her face and her hands squeezed tight. A second blade caught her in the elbow, severing the arm. A third blade hit the small of her back. Blood sprayed nine feet in the air. She was pulled across this blade, losing bits and pieces as she moved.
    Her eyes rolled back and her mouth fell open.
    The people upstairs applauded.
     
    * * *
     
    As Elizabeth listened to her daughter screaming, the people in the room began putting their hands together. Within the clapping and the laughter she heard Lawrence shriek.
    “Oh my GOD!” He said with a huff, once he was able to string some words together. He clutched his chest, thinking a heart attack would be unavoidable. He wondered if he was dreaming. “That’s Penny down there! And that’s Scott! What the hell is this?”
    Elizabeth came running towards him, pushing away whoever was in her path. She squeezed herself between Lawrence and Buck and looked into the room.
    “Where? Where are they?”
    The two men that were standing near the door saw what was happening. The man with the smashed teeth grinned. His name was Russell. “Looks like we’ve got a situation, Chez.”
    The disfigured man agreed. “Looks that way.”
    Chez flicked a switch on the wall and reached into his jacket pocket. A moment later both men were releasing the safeties on their guns.
     
    * * *
     
    A red light began flashing. Scott didn’t look at it. He was too busy watching Penny being dragged from saw-blade to saw-blade.
    Denoté did look at the flashing red light, and he knew what it meant. There was a situation, and it was time to bring this show to an immediate end.
    He lifted the shotgun up, and aimed it at Scott.
    Scott noticed; it was time to move.
    He began running like an athlete, successfully dodging blades for the first twelve feet. Then the shotgun blasted, his toes clipped the jagged edge of a spinning saw blade, and he went down––arms wide, head back, screaming.
     
    * * *
     
    Chez and Russell eliminated people systematically. Russell shot the bartender first, putting a bullet in his head. The man fell back holding a bottle of Sherry. Russ shot the waiter and the piano-man next. The waiter flipped over a chair and the pianist smashed his face against the keys on his way to the floor.
    Those mangled notes would be the last he’d ever play.
    Chez shot the couple standing closest to him, hitting each of them in the face. They fell like dominoes, one slamming into the other. Then Chez killed whoever seemed easiest, and at this point––they were all easy. Nobody was moving yet. Nobody was running. Everybody was standing in a terror pose with their eyes lit up and their hands in the air, saying things like, “ DON’T SHOOT!” And “GOOD LORD MAN, WHAT’S GOING ON HERE?”
    The time for fun was now.
    One man fell onto his knees begging. He was shot in the heart. Another man wet his pants. He was shot in the balls. There was a woman that looked about sixty-years-old. She had white hair and a dress that went all the way to her feet. Putting her hands in the air, she proclaimed: “I surrender!”
    Chez laughed at the woman and shot her once in each tit.
    Lawrence put his arms around Elizabeth as if trying to protect her. He felt a pair of bullets entering his back. Elizabeth took one in the eye. They fell to the ground together, lumped in a contorted ball.
    When Denoté entered the room he didn’t look upset or agitated. He was a professional. This was the business he was in. Sometimes the exhibition went smoothly; sometimes it didn’t. Either way––they got paid and