BLOOD DROP

Chapter 2

While walking along the streets of Shanta Town, Jacob passed a shop called **“Stop and Shop.”** Curiosity pulled him inside.

The store sold electrical appliances—everything from household items to office equipment. To Jacob, they looked ancient and oddly decorative. Having come from the year **2024**, he knew how far technology had advanced. Standing there in **1985**, he realized with quiet frustration that disappointment would follow him in almost every corner of this era.

“Hey, boy! Mind your business and leave!” the shopkeeper snapped. “You’ve been standing here for nearly two hours, pretending to choose something. I know you don’t have what it takes to buy expensive things. Just go!”

Jacob turned calmly. “I’m sorry if I’ve wasted your time,” he said. “But these appliances are too old for me to buy.”

“Old?” the man scoffed. “Are you crazy? These are brand-new appliances!”

“I’m from 2024,” Jacob replied evenly. “I can tell. I’m from the future.”

“The future?” the shopkeeper burst out laughing. “Then tell me—who will I become in the years to come?”

“Do you really want to know?” Jacob smiled faintly. “Maybe… dead.”

The laughter vanished.

“Get out. Right now!” the shopkeeper barked.

Jacob walked out of the shop, shaking his head. *The people of 1985 lack manners,* he thought. *Not all of them are civilized.*

He wandered aimlessly until he found himself standing beneath the **town clock tower**. The short hand pointed to six, the long hand to seven—**6:35 p.m.**

“Where do I go from here?” he wondered.

Nearby was a small garden, and Jacob decided to rest. On one of the benches sat a man who looked to be about forty, deeply absorbed in a newspaper. The bold headline read:

**“THE YEAR 2000: THE END OF THE WORLD.”**

Jacob greeted him and sat beside him. “Do you really believe what’s written there?” he asked.

The man sighed. “In this world, everyone is chasing money—even newspaper printers. They print fear because fear sells. We buy these papers because we’re afraid.”

“Why buy something driven by fear?” Jacob asked.

“Humans are made of fear,” the man replied quietly. “We’re always searching for information, trying to prepare for what’s coming.”

“And have you figured out what you’ll do when the world ends in 2000?” Jacob asked.

The man hesitated. “I run a small project—designing modern helicopters. I haven’t built any yet. All I have are paper models. The project will make serious profit around 2003, but now… I’m thinking of quitting.”

Jacob leaned closer. “Would you believe what I’m about to tell you?”

“Believe you about what?”

“I’m from 2024,” Jacob said. “I invent advanced technology. I created a device called **JXC-2**, which brought me back to 1985. This is my first day here. Trust me—the world will not end in 2000. Keep pushing your project.”

The man stared at him. “Are you an alien? How is that even possible?”

“I’m not an alien,” Jacob replied. “I hadn’t even tested the technology. I was forced to use it when I was on the verge of death.”

“Who wanted you dead?” the man asked.

“I don’t know,” Jacob admitted. “I lost part of my memory. Once it returns, I’ll understand everything.”

After a pause, the man asked, “So… where will you go now?”

“I don’t know,” Jacob answered honestly.

“Then come with me,” the man said warmly. “I live with my granddaughter. I have a big house. You can stay with us until you recover.”

Overcome with gratitude, Jacob knelt respectfully and thanked him. *Not all people of 1985 are bad,* he thought. *Some truly know what it means to be human.*

They talked and laughed as the evening deepened. At **8:00 p.m.**, they got into the man’s car—an old 1985 model, nothing like the sleek machines Jacob remembered from 2024. They drove from town into the countryside. For the first time since arriving in the past, Jacob felt at ease.

At the gate, a guard opened it, and they parked in the lot.

“We’ve arrived,” the man said. “Welcome home, my boy.”

“Thank you, Mr. Albert,” Jacob said, finally learning his benefactor’s name.

“Simon,” Mr. Albert called to the gatekeeper, placing a hand on Jacob’s shoulder, “wash the car and make sure the horses are well attended. Tomorrow, my guest—Mr. Jacob—will tour the farm and see how wisely I’ve invested.”

“Yes, sir,” Simon replied, moving off to his duties.

Mr. Albert smiled at Jacob. “Let’s go inside, my boy.”

When they stepped inside, Jacob immediately felt something change.

Inside, the house was quiet in a comforting way—not empty, just calm. A soft yellow light filled the hallway, and the smell of old wood and cooking oil hung in the air, like someone had made dinner not long ago.

Jacob stopped for a moment without meaning to. The place felt… safe.

Mr. Albert noticed and smiled. “You don’t have to stand there like you’re afraid the floor will collapse,” he said lightly. “Come in.”

The wooden floor creaked under Jacob’s shoes as he walked farther inside. The walls were lined with old photos in simple frames. Some were black and white, some had faded colors. Jacob slowed down, looking at them—Mr. Albert as a young man, standing beside machines that looked half-built, half-dreamed. A woman Jacob guessed was his late wife. A small girl in a school uniform, smiling wide.

“My granddaughter,” Albert said when he noticed Jacob staring. “She’s everything I have now.”

They entered the living room. It wasn’t fancy, but it was clearly lived in. Two worn sofas faced each other, and a small table between them was crowded with papers, notebooks, and tools. Jacob’s eyes were drawn to the drawings—sketches of helicopter parts, notes written and rewritten, calculations scratched out and corrected.

“You work here?” Jacob asked.

Albert chuckled. “Where else would I work?”

There was a fireplace in the corner, cold for now, and a shelf full of books that looked like they’d been opened a thousand times. Some leaned sideways, others were stacked on top of each other like they’d been placed there in a hurry. This wasn’t a house built to impress anyone. It was a house built to think in.

They walked toward the dining area. A wooden table sat in the middle of the room, scratched and marked by years of use. Three chairs surrounded it—one smaller than the rest.

“She’s asleep already,” Albert said. “School tires her out.”

Albert led him down a short hallway and opened a door.

“This will be your room.”

Jacob stepped inside slowly. The room was simple—just a bed, a desk, and a small lamp by the window. No decorations, no unnecessary things. But it felt like a place someone could rest.

Jacob walked to the window and looked out. The farmland stretched quietly under the moonlight.

“Thank you,” Jacob said, turning back.

Albert nodded. “Get some sleep. Tomorrow, we’ll figure things out.”

As Albert left and closed the door behind him, Jacob sat on the edge of the bed and let out a slow breath. His body finally relaxed.

For the first time since he arrived in 1985, he wasn’t just surviving.