BLOOD DROP

Chapter 3

Morning light slipped gently through the curtains and rested on Jacob’s face, warm and insistent, as if the day itself had come to wake him. He stirred, blinked once, then twice, still half-lost in the unfamiliar comfort of the bed. Before he could sink back into sleep, a firm knock sounded at the door—steady, purposeful.

Jacob sat up at once.

“Yes?” he called, swinging his legs off the bed.

“It’s Simon,” came the voice from the other side. “Open up, boy.”

Jacob hurried to the door and pulled it open. Standing there was Simon, Mr. Albert’s gatekeeper, tall and broad-shouldered, dressed neatly as always. In his hands he carried a folded set of clothes.

“Good morning,” Simon said with a small smile. “Mr. Albert is calling for you. Get yourself ready—have a shower first. This is your outfit for today.”

He handed the clothes to Jacob, who received them with both hands, slightly surprised by the gesture.

“Thank you, Mr. Simon,” Jacob said politely. “How was your night?”

Simon chuckled softly. “Indeed, it was beautiful. Peaceful nights are a blessing.” With that, he turned and headed back toward the gate, already absorbed in his duties.

Jacob closed the door and stood still for a moment, looking down at the clothes. Everything still felt unreal—the house, the kindness, the quiet safety. Shaking the thoughts away, he went to bathe. The water washed over him, cool and refreshing, easing the stiffness from his body. When he dressed, the outfit fit him well, as though it had been chosen carefully. That simple detail stirred something warm inside him.

Once ready, Jacob stepped out and made his way toward Mr. Albert’s *sebule*, the sitting room. As he descended the stairs, he heard voices and light laughter. Mr. Albert was seated comfortably, and beside him sat a young girl.

“Hello, Jacob!” Mr. Albert called out the moment he noticed him.

“Good morning, Mr. Albert,” Jacob replied, bowing his head slightly. “I’m glad to meet you again this morning. Thank you—once more—I slept very well.”

“That is good to hear,” Mr. Albert said warmly. “You are most welcome. Come closer. I want you to meet someone.” He gestured toward the girl beside him. “This is my granddaughter, Jasmine. Jasmine, meet Jacob—the boy I told you about. He will be our guest until he fully recovers.”

Jacob turned to her. “Hello, Jasmine.”

She smiled brightly, studying him with open curiosity. “Hello, Jacob. I’m glad to meet you. At least now I’ll have someone to talk to around here,” she said teasingly.

Jacob smiled, slightly embarrassed.

Jasmine was fourteen years old, beautiful in a quiet, natural way. There was elegance in how she carried herself, confidence shaped by good upbringing. She had a fine figure and bright, observant eyes that seemed to notice everything. She was in Grade Six, studying Arts at Hensley High School, a school well known in Shanta Town.

She tilted her head. “You look like a student to me,” she said. “Did you stop going to school?”

Jacob hesitated. “It’s… a long story,” he replied carefully. “Not easy to explain.”

Jasmine opened her mouth to ask more, but Mr. Albert cleared his throat gently. “That will be a discussion for another day,” he said. “For now, let us have breakfast. Jasmine, you should go and see Simon so you don’t arrive late at school.”

“Yes, Grandfather,” she replied obediently. She stood, picked up her bag, and smiled at Jacob again. “Have a nice day.”

“You too,” Jacob said.

As she walked out, the house seemed to grow quieter.

They sat down for breakfast, the table neatly arranged. As they ate, Mr. Albert studied Jacob for a moment, then asked, “How old are you, boy?”

“Sixteen,” Jacob replied.

Mr. Albert nodded thoughtfully. “Still very young, yet I sense you are already destined for great things.” He paused, then continued, “Would you mind if I enrolled you in school—the same school Jasmine attends?”

Jacob swallowed and thought carefully. “I am grateful for the offer,” he said sincerely. “But I would really like to learn how to hunt. Back in 2024, we watched many movies showing people from 1985 as skilled hunters. I admire that life. Would you allow me to receive such training?”

Mr. Albert raised his eyebrows, surprised but not displeased. “Hunting, you say?” He smiled slowly. “I do know someone—a very skilled hunter. I will speak to him. Perhaps in a day or two, he can come and take you under his wing.”

Jacob’s eyes lit up. “Oh! Thank you very much, Mr. Albert.”

“There is no need for thanks,” Mr. Albert replied calmly. “All is well.”

He rose from his seat. “Now prepare yourself. We are going to the farm. Tell me—have you ever mounted a horse?”

Jacob shook his head. “No, sir. But I learn quickly.”

Mr. Albert laughed. “Good. Then let us see what you are made of.”

They walked to the horse house and selected two horses. Mr. Albert patiently showed Jacob how to mount, how to hold the reins, and how to guide the animal. After a few awkward attempts, Jacob found his balance.

“Well done,” Mr. Albert said. “Now—giddy up.”

They rode toward the farm, the wind brushing against Jacob’s face, filling him with excitement. At the farm, Jacob observed everything closely. Mr. Albert was deeply devoted to farming. He had invested greatly in it, and his fields reflected discipline and care. He was one of the main suppliers of produce to the military camps around Shanta Town, and everyone knew of his success.

Later, they sat under a tree playing checkers while some of Mr. Albert’s workers prepared a chicken for lunch. Jacob enjoyed the moment—the laughter, the calm, the sense of belonging. After a while, a question that had been troubling him slipped out.

“How did you decide to manufacture helicopters,” Jacob asked, “when you are already such a successful farmer?”

Mr. Albert leaned back, thoughtful. “I was once a pilot at a military base,” he said. “I studied aircraft engineering. Some of our helicopters were only meant for small loads. I realized there was a need—stronger helicopters, faster ones. Many military units lacked that. So I decided to design and manufacture them.”

“And you sell them to military camps?” Jacob asked.

“Yes,” Mr. Albert replied. “It is good business. And more importantly, it ensures that Jasmine will never have to worry when I am gone.”

The day passed quickly. As dusk approached, they mounted their horses again and rode back home.

That night, Jacob and Jasmine sat together talking for a long time. They discovered they were closer in age than they had thought—Jacob was sixteen, Jasmine fourteen. Their conversation flowed easily, and with each laugh they grew more comfortable with one another.

Jacob spoke of his dream—to learn hunting, to explore forests, to understand the land and its secrets.

Jasmine laughed. “Most teenagers dream of big cities, bright lights, and fine clothes,” she said. “And you dream of forests and animals.”

Jacob smiled. “That’s where I feel I belong.”

After dinner, they wished each other good night and went to their rooms. As Jacob lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, he felt something he had not felt in a long time—hope.