by Wesley Brown
Blink came to visit Reaper on the green hillside.
“Hey, Reaper.” He took a seat on Reaper’s left.
“You were right, Blink,” Reaper said, looking away.
“I’m not here to say I told you so.”
“I don’t understand,” Reaper said. “I thought I could help him. I brought three of our kind together, and it didn’t work. How will I be any good later?”
“You’ve never led,” Blink said. “For centuries, you’ve been a loner. You picked two guys from the my list gave you and did your best. Hey, your actions protected the future.”
“What good is having these powers if I cannot save everyone?” Reaper asked.
“Heroes aren’t heroes because they save everyone. Heroes are heroes because they’d give up everything to save anyone.”
Reaper just sat quietly with his head low. “What about the ones I’ve killed?” he asked. “Am I saving them?” Blink was silent.
“I don’t think I can answer that,” he finally replied. “I guess that’s something you’ll have to come to grips with on your own.”
Reaper sighed. “Sometimes you can be no help—you know that, don’t you?”
“I do.”
Reaper took in a deep breath before speaking again. “What’s the next mission?” Who is my next target?”
“Your next mission is to go to America,” Blink stated. “On Friday, April 12, 1861, war will start.”
“You want me to stop the war before it starts?” Reaper asked.
“Oh, no, I want you to let the war run its course,” Blink said. “The north will win, so you might as well side with them.”
“You want me to ensure the success of the north?” Reaper asked.
“If you need to, yes,” Blink said. “What I really need is for you to make sure that John Wilkes Booth assassinates the president of the United States.”
“Rather than I kill a man, you desire that I let another man do it,” Reaper said in astonishment.
“What’s the deal?” Blink asked. Reaper stood and looked down at Blink.
“You may have been by my side through the years, but you don’t know what you’ve put me through,” Reaper stated. “Lives matter, and I am the one who has taken so many lives. I question why I kill.”
“You kill to safeguard the world.” Blink stood. “I don’t understand why this is so hard for you. You lived in ancient Greece. You were raised to kill. Didn’t you die fighting?”
“I left Sparta with my family because I was tired of the fight. I had no place among war mongers.”
“What about your pursuit of power?” Blink asked. “If you won’t help me because your actions save more lives than you’ve taken or because I’m your friend, then focus on your power lust.” He pushed at Reaper.
“Do not touch me,” Reaper commanded, and knocked Blink’s hands aside. Blink’s brow tensed.
“Don’t. Tell. Me. What. To. Do.” Blink swung at Reaper between each stern word. Reaper stepped back as Blink tried to attack. Finally, Reaper caught his fist in his hand. He pulled Blink’s arm down and punched, knocking Blink back. Blink rolled onto his hands and pushed off. In midair, he teleported away and reappeared, landing on Reaper’s back. Reaper reached over his back and threw Blink over his shoulders. Blink teleported in front of Reaper and using the momentum to hit Reaper with a strong blow. Reaper was not down, but staggered.
“You know the plan. I tell you who needs to go and you do it.” Blink paused. “That’s how we’ve done this for so long.”
“Have you considered that perhaps I don’t like this way?” Reaper asked. “No, because I’m the weapon. If not for Specter, then for you.”
“Do not compare me to Specter. He’s a monster.”
“You may have more in common than you think,” Reaper said. Blink clenched his jaw.
“You know your job. Get it done,” Blink said, and left.
Chapter Thirteen:
Sow
Blink traveled back to his own time after his spat with Reaper. This was a trip that was more often than not instantaneous, but something was different this time. Blink could feel himself slowing as he moved. He heard a sound like thirty strikes of lightening at once, and there was a blinding light for only a moment. He moved through the stream at his normal speed, but the blue flame surrounding him moved slowly.
Blink landed in his bedroom as gracefully as being shoved off a cliff, with his heel on an office chair. The chair rolled away, slamming into the door. Blink fell forward and struck his head on the desk, then lay on the ground for a moment, holding his head. The desk, the chair—they were not like the ones he’d had before. His dresser was moved and the sheets on the bed were strangely feminine. These things seemed odd for sure, but the hole in the wall was far more so. There were scorch marks across the wall paper. Blink looked out of the hole and felt his skin crawl with the shock.
Outside, the sky was gray and the streets were deserted. He teleported down to the street. Piles of rubble stretched as far as the eye could see. Torched cars, flames long since put out. There were inches of settled ash on the ground. Blink’s footprints were like tracks in fresh snow. Blink’s heart either stopped or skipped a beat when his thoughts turned from the devastation back to the house. He ran back to the house and kicked in the door.
“Isaiah!” Blink screamed. “Isaiah!” Like he were screaming that his chest was being torn open at the ribs. “Isaiah! Please! Come out, boy!” He checked all of Isaiah’s usual hiding places, then ran back out into the street. “Isaiah! Come home, boy!” He dropped to his knees. Ash floated up and covered him daintily. Tears began to stream down from his eyes. “Please,” he whispered.
“You called for someone?” Reaper’s hollow voice called down to Blink. He lifted his head to see not Reaper, but Death floating, scythe in hand. “It’s funny, I remember you once told Reaper about your dog. How he was the best friend you had, present company excluded, of course.” Death crashed down onto the street. Blink fell back onto his rear. Death emerged out from the ash cloud. This vile skeletal being robed in black rags stared Blink down.
“You killed my dog?” Blink gulped.
“Ha. Oh no, at least not directly,” Death said. “You see, after you and Reaper fought, I slipped in and persuaded Reaper not to let Lincoln die. The fool was so ready to stop Booth in spite of you, it hadn’t occurred to him that I was spoon-feeding that desire to him. Then everything changed. I found myself at odds with Specter a few times. Before I had full control of Reaper, Specter employed Jack the Ripper to help pull me out of Reaper. It worked, but it worked mid-fight, and they continued to attack. And they pissed me off.”
“You killed Specter?” Blink asked.
“I consumed Specter,” Death said. “Within this body, Specter bends to my will. Right now, he’s keeping Reaper at bay.”
“And Isaiah—where does he fit in?” Blink asked.
“Was he a rescue, by chance?” Death asked. Blink remained silent. “I didn’t directly kill your pet. I took over Reaper, consumed Specter, and have amassed so much power, you couldn’t fathom it. I own this world and have killed billions. I assume at least one had to have been in your bloodline.” He paused and chuckled. “No you, no saving dear little Isaiah.”
“You know that I won’t let you get away with this,” Blink said confidently.
“And you think you can stop me? Give it your best shot.” Death mocked. “I’ll give you one freebie.” He pointed with his bony right index finger to his chin. Blink put on his orange eyepiece. “Oh, it has been some time since I’ve seen that.”
“Don’t worry,” Blink said. “If you really are still in Reaper, you’ll be seeing it real soon.” He was about to go back, but Death rushed behind Blink at super-human speed. Death had the pole of the scythe pulling back on Blink’s throat. Blink tried desperately to push off. He tried everything he could think of to get out, but Death was beyond pain. Death laughed as he was seconds away from ending the last threat
to him. Within Death’s mind, Reaper could see his friend in peril. After so long to reconsider what had happened, Reaper struggled to fight Specter and Death. It would not be enough to save Reaper in this timeline, but it was enough for Blink to get free.
Blink broke free and was gone. Death’s eye sockets lit up red, and a force like five thousand nuclear bombs obliterated the planet.
Chapter Fourteen:
Reaper vs. Ripper
Blink appeared in May 1865, in the exact spot he’d been standing in the future when he came back. In this year, there was nothing there. For miles around he could see nothing but tall grass and dirt.
He fell over on his side and began to weep, crying in longing for a friend, someone that would hold him and comfort him. The only thing he wanted was a chance to see his friend one more time—one last chance to hold that small head in his hands, exchanging funny faces. Blink held his stomach and sides as he cried. The physical and emotional pain all at once proved to be too much for him. He was petrified with fear and doubt. The eyepiece had been sent back to him by an older version of himself from a future where Death destroyed everything. If an older, wiser, smarter, and stronger Blink could not win, how could a young and weak version?
What if that was just the fate of the world? What if Death’s reign was only able to be postponed, and he would destroy everything?
It took time, but Blink was able to stand to his feet. He was not strong yet. He removed his shirt and jacket, then burned them with the lighter in his pocket. He then tore his pants and dirtied himself. His goal was simply to fit in, but he was too afraid to use his powers to obtain authentic clothing from a museum.
He teleported to New York City and emerged out of a dark ally. Many people turned him away, but there one elderly African-American gentleman saw him and took pity. Blink asked the man what the date was. The man told Blink that it was May 9, 1865. Blink thanked the man, and before they parted ways, the man gave Blink his coat despite Blink’s protests. Blink sunk back into the shadow of the alley and thought back to eighth grade history class. He thought about what happened in May 1865. The ninth, repeated in his head over and over again. Then he remembered: the Battle of Palmito Ranch. If he was going to find Reaper, that would be the most likely place for him.
The war was coming to a close, and Blink knew that Reaper would be in as many battles as possible. He would be working to ensure the victory of the Union. Blink teleported to the future battlefield. Three days later, on the twelfth, the battle would start, and Reaper would ensure that the Union won. Blink could not let that happen, as the Union was not meant to win that battle. Now that he was where he needed to be to intercept Reaper, he sped through time. He stood perfectly still and watched as the day changed to night and into the next day. He continued this until May 12, 1865. He was there, able to watch as the two sides set their camps, and he was there when the fighting started. He needed the battle to start before finding Reaper. If Reaper were there, he would be on the front lines of the Union. Once the fighting began, Blink would be able to find him easiest.
The battlefield was frozen as Blink walked between the two sides, inspecting soldiers on both sides just to be safe. Not a second in real time had gone by, but Blink had been searching for hours, until he got tired and hungry. He went back to a tent and ate as much as he could choke down of the moldy bread and warm beans. After he was convinced that he would be suffering in the bathroom later, he continued his search.
When he came across Reaper he felt a rush of pride, that his suspicions had been right. That rush was quickly extinguished as he stared at Reaper in his Union blue, covered in red. Reaper’s blood-covered hands gripped his musket. Drops of blood from Reaper’s bayonet still hung in the air. Reaper stood over a Confederate soldier, his bayonet roughly six inches off from skewering this soldier, who would have only been a year, maybe two, older than Blink. He almost let Reaper take this boy’s life—after all, it was war. But something was not right—that look in Reaper’s eyes. No, it was more than a look. The color of Reaper’s eyes—they were different. They were silver, just like before.
Blink knew now what he was seeing. This boy’s death would not be at the hands of Reaper for the greater good of the world. It would be at the hands of Death for his own pleasure.
Blink touched the boy’s shoulder and took him further back on the Confederate side—far enough away from Reaper, but close enough to still die soon at the hands of a Union soldier. Once the boy was out of Reaper’s reach, time began again. Reaper’s bayonet struck the ground. Reaper looked around for a moment in confusion, and then it was clear.
“Blink!” Reaper shouted. He pulled the bayonet out of the dirt and called a second time, “Blink, I know you are near!” Blink appeared and plucked the gun away from Reaper, then disappeared and reappeared in front of Reaper. He put his hands gently out toward Reaper.
“Reaper, I need you to leave this fight,” Blink said.
“Why?” Reaper asked, teetering between anger and rage.
“The Union is supposed to lose this fight, and that won’t happen with you fighting with them,” Blink said. “Besides, you and I have work to do elsewhere.”
“You mean let Lincoln die—that’s your big plan, right? Right?” Reaper’s eyes were like silver fire.
“Reaper you’re being used,” Blink said.
“I know—by you, and it’s over,” Reaper said. A shot blasted through Reaper’s side, but he barely moved. Blink teleported behind an overturned wagon, Reaper casually walked over and knelt next to him. “What could you say to sway me?”
“Your eyes are silver; that’s happened once before,” Blink said. “I’m not sure what it is, but it’s not good. After our last meeting, I went home and everything was destroyed. I went to a future without me in it, my dog is dead, and Death beat you. He took over your body; I know he’s in there listening to me. Probably reveling in his victory. You won’t win!”
“Calm down,” Reaper said. His eyes began to flux.
“That’s it, Reaper, fight it.”
“How do we stop him?” Reaper asked.
“We get back on the mission.”
“I don’t desire to kill, or let someone I can stop kill,” Reaper said.
“That doesn’t matter,” Blink said.
“Because that’s the mission?”
“No, you’re drawn to the fight.” Blink said. Reaper looked over the barrier, then ducked down and pushed Blink back as a cannonball broke through.
“I don’t need to fight to live,” Reaper said.
“Come on, dude. We can talk this out later. Let’s get out of here,” Blink begged.
“Where do I need to meet you?” Reaper asked.
“Meet me in front of Ford’s Theater in Washington D.C. on the thirteenth of next month!” Blink shouted over the noise. “I’ll see you then!” Before Reaper had a chance to answer, Blink was gone.
Blink reappeared in front of Ford’s Theater fifteen minutes before Reaper would arrive, waiting in the coat he had been given. When Reaper arrived, his scythe was an ordinary black cane with the skull at the top. Reaper was dressed like any gentlemen of the time; he even wore a snazzy top hat.
“Reaper?” Blink asked.
“Good day, Blink,” Reaper greeted him with a smile.
“Why are you so happy?” Blink asked.
“I feel well in these clothes—as if I lived for centuries just to look this good. Honestly, I don’t feel that war fits me like this,” Reaper stated.
“I do not have time to listen to you talk about how sexy you think you are.” Blink snapped. “I’m thrilled that you feel hot, but the world is gone.”
“Of course.” Reaper’s tone shifted. “I forgot, the mission.”
“Hey, up yours,” Blink said with a scowl. “I may have found you in Egypt because it was the mission. Today, I’m your friend, and we are going to save the world.”
“How?” Reaper asked. “If Death lurks inside my mind, the world will
never be safe.”
“I know, and that’s a battle for another day,” Blink said. “We will take care of that in time. First, we need to fix the timeline.”
“Would it be proper to assume you have a plan of action?” Reaper asked.
Blink pointed to the theater. “This is my plan. Let’s talk privately.” From the security of a nearby hotel, Blink explained the assassination plot. Reaper would observe the actions of John Wilkes Booth. As Reaper did this, Blink followed through, ensuring that Booth’s escape would happen. He was sure that keeping Reaper from being overpowered by Death would be a good start. Then, of course, there was making sure that President Lincoln would be assassinated. He believed that this is what it would take to fix the future.
On the fourteenth, the two of them walked to the theater. As they passed an alley, they heard a sound. Reaper looked down the dark alley, his eyes changing into Asterion’s. He saw John Wilkes Booth speaking with another man.
“I cannot tell who that man is or what they’re talking about,” Reaper said.
“I’d say it’s safe to say they’re talking about the… you know.”
“What if they’re discussing a detail that you don’t know?”
“I’ll check. Head inside and find our seats,” Blink said.
“We don’t have seats,” Reaper said.
“Never mind man, forget it.”
“I’ll get in position,” Reaper said, and walked inside. Blink traveled back several minutes and hid further back in the alley. He crouched down behind a garbage can and saw Booth enter the ally. He knocked on the door and a man stepped out. Blink heard Booth questioning his role in the plot. He realized why Reaper was meant to watch and see to it that Booth would shoot Lincoln. The man went back inside, and Booth was on his way out when Blink accidently kicked the garbage can.