Chapter Text
It’s bliss. The Cup of Sleeplessness. Terry found it among the magical items Henry brought back from his last trip to the Forgotten Realms. A bag of random junk that may or may not do something. A week of research later and Terry came into Grant’s office while Lark was boots up on his desk arguing with him. Terry had the most cheshire cat grin Lark had ever seen in his life. Infinite coffee but better, and he knew exactly his audience because Grant was studying for finals and Lark NEEDED to keep fighting the doodler.
“It’s not actually coffee,” Terry warned as they got to ten PM and were ready to test it out. “It’s supposed to just keep you up.”
And it fucking did. It wasn’t like coffee. It wasn’t acidic and jittery and tinged with guilt, this was like waking up after a night of perfect sleep. Lark felt…incredible.
And he still does. He’s been telling Sparrow that he’s sleeping at Grant’s place and he and Terry have been eyeball deep in research and cataloging for three days. Lark’s only been taking breaks to go down to the gym and train and he’s not tired about it. His body feels fine. His mind feels on the precipice of genius.
“It’s got to be something to do with god,” Lark says as he stares at the resources they’ve gathered on the conference room table. There’s Terry’s three tablets and more information projected onto their smart board. There’re printouts and a laptop and thirteen books. Lark is starting to put some pieces together. He never thought he would need to go to bibles and the profits for information but it makes sense. His mom has an imam friend. He would know something about the placement of Mecca and if Lark gets a plane ticket tonight he could be in Missouri tomorrow. The Mormons think the garden of Eden is there?
“I think that’s a stretch,” Grant says. He’s been half listening to Terry and Lark’s ideas for the last eighteen hours and only chiming in when it seems necessary.
“No no it makes sense,” Lark mumbles to himself. He needs scripture not the books in front of him that are about planes. They’re helpful in that they’ve laid out the theorized ethereal plane but he needs to know about heaven and the afterlife. Jodie is the king of hell so there has to be an opposite and not all religions believe in the afterlife, and Lark’s not sure he does– reincarnation always sounded more fun– but maybe there is an afterlife?
Definitely. It’s become really obvious all of the sudden that GOD–not the Doodler but the other GOD– could be the key to solving their problems. GOD’s powers could fix this right? Lark needs God’s powers.
Lark hums to himself and flips a page in his book. He reads, and focusses for a few moments.
“Look,” Lark picks up the book and turns it so Terry can see the page. There’re a few runes on one side and descriptions of their meanings on the other. “This is a lie. They think they’ve figured out what these runes mean, but they’re wrong. I bet we could figure out the real meaning and that would point us to the ethereal plane.”
“The ethereal plane is a hypothesis,” Terry says. He rubs his forehead and gives Grant a sidelong look. They’re fucking plotting against him. He swears. Every one of his ideas for the last day has been shot down. For two days he and Terry were on the same team. They were working through puzzles and reading book after book and PDF after PDF. They were figuring things out and somehow over the last twenty-four hours Terry’s started to doubt him. He’s fucking ignoring all of his ideas, and these have been his best ideas. Pieces are falling into place. There’s a familiar itching under his skin that tells him he’s on to something. He’s certain he’s right and he can do this. It’s euphoric and beautiful. He loves this feeling. He shakes his head and decides if Terry and Grant aren’t hearing him they probably need a break, just like he keeps needing breaks. He’s moved from research to gym to cataloging quickly over the last few hours just to keep his mind sharp. Grant and Terry have been studying nonestop so they probably need a break. Lark slams his book on the table and crawls up after it. Grant’s across the table from him and Lark scatters things as he goes and takes an uncoordinated swipe at Grant’s face.
“Whoa!” Grant reels away from the fist and looks at Lark with the widest eyes Lark’s ever seen. “What was that!” Grant puts his hands up and does that flicker look in Terry’s direction that Lark is getting really sick of.
“Fight me,” Lark demands. He gets up on his knees and pounds his chest. He feels the expansion of a weather balloon in his chest. He’s high on excitement. There are sparks in him that a fight could turn into fireworks. He wants fireworks. Grant gets up, pushing his seat back behind him.
“Um,” Grant says. He looks at his books, precariously placed a few inches from Lark’s knee. Grant’s worried for no reason, a crinkled page or two isn’t going to hurt anything. Lark does the responsible thing anyway and pushes them to the side before gracefully flinging himself off the table and coming at Grant again. He wants the fight like he wants to find god, like he wants to destroy the Doodler, like he wants to breathe unicorn dust, like he wants to see the sun, like he wants to eat the stars in the sky whole.
“Fight me!” Lark demands again. He adjusts his feet to tell Grant he’s going to take another swing. Grant tilts his shoulder, almost, but not quite, squaring up.
“Lark maybe we should-”
Lark swings his fist. Grant protects his face with crossed arms then swings out his right hand to grab Lark’s wrist. Lark plants his right foot and puts all his force into his left knee to hit Grant in the side.
“Jesus Fucking Christ okay!” Grant says, half out of breath from the hit. Lark pulls the arm Grant is still holding up to his face, sticks Grant’s wrist in his mouth and bites. Grant smacks the side of his face hard. It stings like fire and Lark releases Grant’s wrist with a laugh.
“Nom nom nom,” Lark teases, or cheers he can’t really tell. Grant’s going to fight him.
“Not here asshole,” Grant says. He uses the grip he still has on Lark’s wrist and then a sudden fistful of Lark’s shirt to turn him toward the door.
“I think I’m coming with,” Terry says from behind. Lark hears a rustling of Terry coming around the table as Grant marches Lark out the door and toward the stairwell.
“Fight fight fight,” Lark chants as he’s walked down three flights. He feels buzzy and disjointed and alive. “Fight fight fight.” He can’t stop chanting. Every time he tries to get his mouth to stop it just starts up again. Impulse control issues he says in between one of the rounds of chants. He hears it in his dad’s voice, talking calmly across the table trying to explain that it’s a challenge and he’ll do anything to help Lark slow down. He hears it in his old principle’s voice a little scolding, you need to get control of yourself. He hears it in Grant’s voice, teasing and amused. He hears it in Sparrow’s voice as they say it in unison before laughing. Those Oak-Garcia boys and their “impulse control issues.”
Oh, and his psychiatrist's voice.
A symptom of bipolar is impulse control issues, especially when you’re manic.
Lol.
Lark is chanting and hopping while Grant pushes him through the doors to the gym. As soon as Lark’s feet are on the gym floor he flails his way out of Grant’s hold and starts ripping off his shoes. He leaves them strewn across the floor as he rushes toward the sparring mats. He feels elation at the idea of expending some of his energy. He needs to fight hard. He needs to go go go so he can learn how to fight god. If he overpowers god then he can take over as god and take down the Doodler because the current god is doing shit about the Doodler and Lark would do a better job. He just has to beat god to get his powers. That must be how it works. The Greek gods fought the titans and took over. Lark just needs to do that. He gets up on the mat and bounces bounces bounces bounces until Grant catches up.
“Maybe we should put on some safety gear?” Grant says as he slowly fucking slowly pulls off his own shoes. Grant has to be amped too. He also drank the amazing impossible wonderful not-coffee coffee. Lark bounces. Grant gets off his first shoe.
“Hurry up Wilson!” Lark says. He takes a break from bouncing to run a lap around the small mat. He needs to warm up. He runs one lap while Grant unties his second shoe and looks at Terry AGAIN. He runs another and another as Grant puts his foot down and crosses his arms. Lark runs another and another and another. Grant makes no move to get on the mat or stop him.
“You gonna fight me yet Wilson?” Lark asks on his billionth lap.
Grant puts out an arm and Lark kinda purposefully slams into it on his next lap. He pretends that Grant is holding him and runs in place like Grant is the immovable object and Lark is the unstoppable force. Maybe that’s the solution. That the unstoppable force just moves in a different way, or maybe the unstoppable force turns and goes in a different direction. It goes up. It goes backward. It is unstoppable, just like Lark. Lark turns around and runs in the opposite direction.
“I’M THE UNSTOPPABLE FOOORRRCCEEEE,” Lark yells until he gets back to Grant and tucks and rolls under Grant’s arm then he’s back up and running. He jukes and comes back around to Grant’s arm and this time he does a high kick to make Grant’s arm snap up and he runs under Grant’s now lifted arm. Lark does a full lap and does a tight twist around Grant’s arm like he’s a quarterback making a break for it. He stops at the edge of the mat, does the fastest turn he can, and runs back at Grant’s arm thinking of a dozen more ways that the unstoppable force could get around the immovable object. For Grant’s part he doesn’t look like he’s going to stop Lark’s plotting. Lark tries to jump over Grant’s arm and fails spectacularly. He runs a lap and somersaults under it. He jukes at the end of the mat, turns around and karate chops it down before running past. He does a lap and just ducks under it. Too easy. He does a lap and tries to bite Grant’s arm before Grant pulls it away. He wonders if the unstoppable force can threaten the immovable object. He wonders if the immovable object is zen and can talk the unstoppable force into slowing down. He wonders if Grant can talk him into slowing down. He kinda feels like maybe he needs to slow down. He can feel his heartbeat. He can feel a scary tingle under his skin. On his next lap he doesn’t juke around Grant, he slams into him and bites the shoulder of his t-shirt. Grant takes the brunt of his attack with nothing but a grunt then instantly his arms are around Lark.
“I got you. I got you,” Grant says, like he does when Lark’s manic and needs pressure to calm down. Lark wiggles and fights just a little because his body can’t stop, but Grant holds tight and holds tight and holds tight even as Lark screams a little into his shirt and pushes into Grant with his immovable force and steps from foot to foot.
“I have this idea,” Lark says spitting out Grant’s shirt. “There’s the infernal plane which means there has to be an ethereal plane right?”
“Hmmm,” Grant sounds as soothing as can be. “You mentioned that.”
“Oh right,” Lark shuts his eyes and tries to remember what else he already told Grant. He jerks against Grant’s hold and puts Grant’s shirt back into his mouth. He thinks for a nanosecond before spitting the shirt out again then in rapid sequence he explains.
“There is an infernal plane with a King of Hell and lots of imps and demons underneath him and it’s really hot and a lot of bad people go there and it’s kinda fun and there’s lots of peppermint, and Nicky refuses to take me there, but he tells me about it, and I just think if Muslims, and Mormons, and the Christians, and like other religions that think there is an afterlife for good people- No wait- They think there’s a hell for bad people and there actually is a hell for bad people then there is probably- they’re probably right about there being a hell for good people. No. A heaven for good people. But not a heaven, an ethereal plane, like the infernal plane-” Lark takes a breath and Grant rubs his back.
“Yeah kid, I’m following.”
“Right. There is… where was I? There is a-” Lark shakes his head to clear his thoughts. “There is a heaven, no, there’s an ethereal plane and good people go there, and there has to be a King of Hell but for the ethereal plane and if the Christians and the Muslims and the Mormons are right then there- do you think other religions have a heaven?” Lark reels back to look Grant in the eyes. “You’re catholic!” Lark remembers suddenly.
“I’m-” Grant kinda wrinkles his face. “Kinda. I know about it,” Grant relents.
“Can you get the pope to talk to god for me. We can go to the Vatican. If the pope knows what we’re trying to do he would help.”
“I don’t know if I can get the pope to talk to us,” Grant says. Lark growls and bends over so he can press his head into Grant’s chest and push and push. Grant scratches his fingers against Lark’s hairline and takes a deep breath. Lark can feel the air in his chest.
“I want to talk to the pope!” Lark says.
“Yep,” Grant agrees, and Lark knows Grant means “yes I know you want to talk to the pope and not “let’s go talk to the pope.” Lark pushes off Grant and growls. Grant’s against his plan! Anger flares up in Lark. It’s like spikes growing into his skin. He points at Grant.
“You don’t believe me!” Lark accuses. Grant holds his hands up again.
“What don’t I believe?” Grant asks calmly. Lark takes a slow step back. Grant doesn’t believe him. Something starts to dawn on Lark. He looks to Terry. He’s a few feet from the edge of the mat. He looks at Lark then at Grant.
“Do you believe me?” Lark points at Terry and pins him with a hard stare.
“Lark, I think maybe there is an ethereal plane-”
“And it has a god and we can fight god and be god and then we can beat the Doodler. It’s perfect!” Lark says, maybe a little too loudly.
“I don’t-” Terry does his thing where he’s trying to calmly explain his point of view. He’s been doing it more and more over the last several hours. Every time Lark figures something out, Terry calmly explains why that’s not quite right. He doesn’t see the pieces Lark’s putting together.
“You’re sabotaging me,” Lark says. It makes so much sense. It’s the reason Terry keeps batting down his ideas and the reason Grant and Terry keep sharing looks.
“You got swapped.” Lark flexes his fingers and unflexes them. His heart beats. His stomach starts to sour. He takes a step back. What did Grant and Terry get swapped with? Something!
“You’re with heaven,” he realizes. “You’re here to take me down. You don’t want the ethereal plane found.” Lark doesn’t know if he should be saying this out loud. If they know he knows- Oh fuck are they going to kill him! If he dies, what happens to Sparrow? He can’t die. “You can’t get me,” Lark says. “I’m powerful. I’m the most powerful person on earth. I’m the unstoppable force. You saw me. I took on Grant.” He juked around him. Grant couldn’t stop him then. He can’t stop him now. Why do they think they can stop him now!?
Grant shakes his head slowly and holds out a placating hand.
“We aren’t here to hurt you-”
Lark hates that phrasing. It makes them sound like they just beamed down from somewhere. They’re not here to hurt him. Likely story. Lark looks left and right. The exit is behind Grant. To his left are changing rooms. He could dart in there but then he would be even more trapped. He needs to get around Grant.
“Okay buddy, what can I do to prove I’m Grant?”
Grant is still talking infuriatingly calm and slow. Fucker. They think they can just come here and act all calm and heavenly and just trick Lark into a false sense of safety.
“I’m going to get to heaven and stop you. I’m going to kill your god!” Lark says. “How do you feel about that?” Lark makes a fist, just like he used to when he was ten and fighting trees. He’s gonna swing and take them down.
“Lark it’s just me and Terry,” Grant says. “You’re safe. Can you take a deep breath?”
Of course Grant wants him to take a deep breath.
“You poisoned the air!” Lark says. If he takes a deep breath the air will kill him, and take him down. Terry and Grant are probably immune. It’s probably some heaven, fuck, ethereal plane poison. Lark holds his breath and plants his back foot. He juked around Grant earlier, he can do it again. He takes a careful step to the left. His heart flutters. He has to make it to the door before he has to breathe. He’s running out of time. He’s going to die. With one last good glare he pushes off and runs forward as fast as he can. His lungs hurt, but he gets past Grant with an arm's length to spare and Grant doesn’t try to stop him save for a yelp and a call of his name.
Lark slams through the gym door and gasps for air on the far side. Fucking heaven copies. He hears Grant’s footsteps jogging toward him. He has to think fast. He has to think fast. His brain is running too fast. He tries to organize his ideas. Go to the armoury, go to the magical item storage. Run home. Turn and fight. Lock himself in the conference room where they were studying until he finds his way to heaven. Go talk to the pope, Missouri, Mecca. Lark yells at the floor. The doors to the gym rattle open and Lark’s fear spikes. He runs without thinking. He slams into the wall at the corner and keeps going. Down one hall, up stairs down hallways back down stairs. He tries to think. He tries to gather his thoughts. He should run home, but then he realizes it’s three AM. He and Terry and Grant are the only ones in the building. Lark’s the only one who can protect the building from these heaven infiltrators. He slips on a stair, hits his elbow with a jarring pain before falling down a few more stairs. Something in his wrist cracks and pain shoots up to his elbow.
“Fuck!” He pushes up to his knees and feels winded and weird as the pain makes him dizzy and unsteady. He takes his first deep breath in what feels like a long time. The stairwell stretches up above him in a circle circle circle. How high up does it go? There’s a buzzing in his brain for a long moment. His arm hurts so bad. He has an idea. Is this stairwell how the fake Terry and Grant got here? Maybe. Maybe. Maybe they stretched the stairwell up to heaven. Lark gets to his feet feeling bruises on his shins. His arm throbs and he tucks it against his stomach to keep it still. He doesn’t dare look at it. He starts going up. Slow at first, then faster and faster. God’s at the top of the stairs. He can get there, and he can fight god. He can even fight god with a bad arm. He’s more powerful than god, even broken. He has something god doesn’t have. A will. Lark can keep going and going and going because he has to keep going. He has to stop the Doodler. Lark goes up and up and then for some reason the stairs stop. He looks left and right and doesn’t see anything except a normal doorway. He looks down. He doesn’t feel like he went very far, but clearly he went far enough if the stairwell ends. He turns and pushes through the door.
It doesn’t look like heaven. No clouds or heavenly choir or gates or gold.
It just looks like D.A.D.D.I.E.S.. Lark growls in frustration. Terry and Grant are playing tricks on him. They’re making the world tipsy turvey. He knows this floor though. The security cameras are on this floor. He can get in there and look around and find Grant and Terry. He’ll need to keep a close eye on them so they don’t sabotage the building. There’s fear growing in the back of Lark’s mind. It’s a creeping terror that things are going to go very bad. His next inhale is with a shudder. He walks down the hall carefully. Each step sounds too loud. Are there scriptures about noises or heavenly walking? His parents never taught him about religions with heavens or unfriendly gods. It was always goddesses and the woman on his house’s wall with beautiful locks and deep brown eyes. Mother Earth giving birth to the world. She would protect him right now.
“Hey Mother Earth?” Lark whispers as he walks. “I think the other god’s angels are after me.” He swallows and keeps creeping down the hall. His stomach feels tight and his skin is pulled across his bones in a way that makes him feel like every square inch is being tugged down. If he were gridded paper the edge of each square would be sucked down to his bone. Is he gridded paper?
“I’m really scared, but I bet you’re better than that other god right?” Lark says. “You’re the one who made the world. You’re the one that made me this powerful.” He nods to himself. That makes the most sense. He has all the powers of Mother Earth. She was on his house. His mama knows her. She is the source of all. He was born alongside the Earth. He takes comfort in that. He always felt safe in his mama’s arms. Mothers are safe. Like his mama and Rebecca. He takes steps down the hall and down the hall until he’s at the control room. He pulls his badge out of his pocket and taps it against the pad. The door clicks and he walks in. Fifteen screens are set up, each flashing through a few different camera angles. Lark has honed his skills to be able to read the screens easily. He watches each one with perfectly timed three second checks. One after the other until he sees Terry and Grant. They’re in the conference room. Lark quickly pushes the T on the keyboard to get the screen to stay on them. They’re talking. Terry crossed-armed and Grant with his fingers interlaced over his head. It’s his overwhelmed and overthinking stance. He’s problem solving.
He’s figuring out how to catch Lark. Poison, electricity through the floor into Lark’s bare feet, bright lights that will blind him, guns and magical items. It could be anything. Lark swallows. He needs to call in the troops. He needs to get as many people here as he can to overwhelm them. Then he needs to sneak out so they can’t get to him before he figures out how to get up to god.
“Mama Earth,” Lark says. “I’m gonna get people here, and then you need to lead me to the bad god okay?”
Lark doesn’t hear so much as he feels Mother Earth’s yes.
“Okay,” Lark says. He keeps the camera trained on Grant and Terry and starts texting. Darryl, then his mom, then Ron, and Samantha, and Carol, then he texts Nicky and Glenn and even Jodie because nothing could be more powerful against the ethereal plane then the king of hell. Then he tells Glenn to bring Morgan. On the screen Terry and Grant nod to each other and head out of the conference room. Lark flashes his attention to the camera that’s right outside the conference room. Terry and Grant turn right. Lark texts Sparrow. They all need to hurry. In the meantime Lark is going to get down to the armory and weapon up. All he’s got on him is his hunting knife slipped under his waistband. He watches Grant and Terry walk down the hall. They’re not headed toward the armory, so he thinks he can safely get there. He heads out of the control room and glances left and right just in case Grant and Terry have called for invisible backup or something.
“Are we safe Mama?”
Yes
Lark nods and goes into the hall. As quickly and safely as he can he hurries down the hall and back into the lie of a stairwell. He goes down three flights and asks Mother Earth again if it’s safe to go into the hall. She tells him a simple yes and then that she’ll protect him if not and Lark lets her earthy voice lay on his shoulders. Her voice reminds him of his own mama’s, and soft dirt, and the smell of vegetables on Sparrow’s hands, and leaves and tomato plants, and the feeling of petting his childhood pet goat’s bony and bristly fur. He floats on those feelings while he pads barefoot down the hall to the armory. He gets to the door and flashes his badge at the lock. There is a whir click and a red light. What? Lark flashes his badge again and is once again denied. He frowns. The only time his badge is denied is when he’s manic or suicidal or something. He checks to make sure his badge hasn’t been swapped with Grant’s because he’s sometimes locked out too, but no it’s his badge and when he flashes it again he’s locked out. Fuck. He flashes it again, and again, and nothing. He’s jiggling the handle with his good arm when his phone rings. It surprises him out of his mini fight with the door.
“Fuck,” He scrambles to answer so the ringing doesn’t alert Terry and Grant to his presence. He looks at the caller ID. Darryl. Lark answers.
“Hey,” Lark speaks quietly and urgently then decides to give up on the armory. If Darryl is on his way then he only needs to survive against Terry and Grant for a little bit longer.
“Hey kiddo,” Darryl says. Lark grunts that he’s heard Darryl and continues to creep down the hall. “I’m just calling to see how you’re doing.”
“I’m staying alive,” Lark says, giving Darryl the sitrep. “I don’t think Terry and Grant are planning to leave the building, so if everyone can get here you can probably corner them. I’m not sure how long I can keep evading them. What’s your ETA?”
“Well if you really think you need me I’ll be there in fifteen,” Darryl says. “But I was wondering if you wanted to talk for a minute.”
“No,” Lark says. He doesn’t want to talk. “This is too important. I think I’ve got an in with Mother Earth. She’s going to get me to the ethereal plane, I just need to get out of Terry and Grant’s grasp first. They’re trying to kill me to keep me from getting there.”
“Mother Earth?” Darryl sounds intrigued and Lark’s hope skyrockets.
“Yes!” Lark says. “She gave me powers. I can fight the other god and get his powers and then take down the Doodler.”
“Wow,” Darryl says. “That’s really exciting. Well Sparrow said he’s heading your way, and I’m gonna come over too, how about you hang tight?”
Lark shakes his head then frowns when he hears a whisper from Mother Earth. He stops and backs against the wall.
“I need to get out of here,” Lark says. “How soon can you get here to protect D.A.D.D.I.E.S.” He’s starting to get a weird feeling about Darryl.
“Fifteen minutes remember?” Darryl says. “I just need you to stay put okay?”
Lark stomach does a flip. His brain goes in seven different directions. He tries to catch up to the four dimensional chess Darryl is playing. He wants Lark to stay put, he’s probably calling in backup from the ethereal plane. He’s probably out to get Lark too. Lark needs them all to believe he’s going to stay put. Because they are going to descend on him. Fuck. His stomach constricts and he feels nauseous. Who can he trust? Anyone? He bites his tongue. Hard. He tucks his injured arm closer to his stomach. He needs to leave. It’s okay, he supposes, if D.A.D.D.I.E.S. falls because soon Mother Earth will get him to heaven and all of this will be over. They won’t need D.A.D.D.I.E.S. anymore.
“I’ll stay put,” he tells Darryl with as much sincerity as he can muster. “You get as many people here as you can.” If they gather all their forces and descend on D.A.D.D.I.E.S thinking he’s going to be here then he can slip out the back and get to heaven.
“Okay buddy,” Darryl says. “You just stay put okay. We love you, it’s going to be okay.”
“Copy,” Lark says. There’s a worried quiet on the other end of the line before Lark hangs up. He needs to get out. He creeps down the hall and takes a right. He goes into the stairwell and is one floor down when he hears the click of a door opening under him.
Shit. He freezes then slowly backs up. If he’s quiet enough they won’t hear him. He steps, steps.
“Lark?!” Grant calls from under him. There’s a beat then footsteps start to hurry up after him. Lark panics.
“Mama!” he calls for his goddess and his feet suddenly feel like they’re floating. Mother Earth carries him up to the door to the second floor and he pushes through. He runs down the hall, around a corner. His heart beats against his ribcage. He feels sick with fear. He has fifteen minutes to sneak out of the building before everyone descends and Terry and Grant are hot on his heels. He goes as fast as he can, but the running jostles his arm and he has to bite his lip to keep from groaning against the pain.
He gets to the stairwell door on the opposite side of the building and bursts through it. He listens for just a moment to see if he hears anything, but doesn’t. He goes as fast as he can down the stairs, faster and faster hoping he doesn’t fall again. He makes it to the ground floor and slams through the stairwell door. He sees Terry down the hall coming toward him. They’re trying to surround him. Terry is between him and the front door, but Lark’s on the ground floor and doors aren’t the only exit. He turns left and runs until he’s at the door to the secondary library, an overflow that Terry deemed necessary when they pulled the second load of books back from Book Castle. Lark bursts through the door and darts for the window in the back. He climbs and stumbles as best he can over the pile of books under the window. He hears Terry yell his name and the words it’s okay, you’re safe as Lark unlocks the window and pulls up. Lark snorts. Fake Terry is trying to convince him he’s safe as more angels are descending on him and he’s actively being held back from stopping the Doodler. Lark kicks the screen from the window and crawls through, only hurting his bad arm a little. Once he’s out he’s gone. He runs to the sidewalk and as fast as he can down the dark streets. He makes it six blocks before his phone rings again. He hastily pulls it out of his pocket and sees the caller ID, Sparrow. Relief spreads through Lark. His brother can’t be a fake, his mother gave birth to both of them and Mother Earth watches over them. Lark creeps into an alley and answers.
“Brother,” Lark greets.
“Lark!”
“Yeah, yes,” Lark feels out of breath from fear and running. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” Sparrow says. He sounds like he might be hurrying too. “Are you safe? Are you okay?”
“Yeah. I had to leave D.A.D.D.I.E.S. It’s gonna be overrun,” Lark delivers the bad news.
“Shit, okay. Your message said Terry and Grant are after you?” Lark continues down the alley then takes a moment to listen to hear if he’s being followed.
“Are we safe?” he quietly asks Mother Earth.
“I’m safe,” he hears Sparrow say.
“You are safe,” Mother Earth whispers to him. Okay. Okay that’s good. Lark gets to the end of the alley and peaks his head out.
“Lark can you tell me where you are if you left D.A.D.D.I.E.S?” Sparrow asks. “Maybe I can meet up with you?”
Lark shakes his head. He doesn’t want to drag Sparrow into this. Sparrow is nice and good and Mother Earth gave him the powers to fight god, not Sparrow. Lark has to finish what he started.
“It’s okay,” Lark says. “I got out of D.A.D.D.I.E.S. and Mother Earth says I’m not being followed. She’s gonna show me how to get to heav- to the ethereal plane.”
Sparrow’s quiet for a moment.
“Did she say where that is?” Sparrow asks.
“No, not yet.” Lark steps out from his alley and onto the sidewalk. There’s a flicker of something out of the corner of his eye on his left. It makes him think Mother Earth is guiding him along. He looks up. The street light at the intersection on his left is green. He looks right and those distant lights are red. This must mean he needs to go left. He starts down that path as Sparrow asks another question.
“Do you have any weapons on you?” Sparrow asks, then quickly adds, “Anything to protect yourself with?”
“Just my knife,” Lark says. “The armory was locked. I think Grant and Terry did that thing where they lock down my card on certain zones in D.A.D.D.I.E.S.. We need to get rid of that protocol just in case this ever happe- I guess it won’t ever happen again.” Lark’s going to finish this fight, soon. So soon. He stops as the realization hits him. He laughs suddenly. He can’t believe he’s so close. After all this time. He doesn't know how long it will take to get to the ethereal plane, but it could be hours or just a few days and he’ll be there, and fighting god and then taking down the Doodler. Fuck he’s so relieved and happy.
“Sparrow I can’t believe I figured it out.” He laughs again, so free and lighthearted. “It was so simple, but I just- We didn’t want to tell you but Terry found a magic cup that had liquid in it that makes it so you don’t have to sleep. It’s so wonderful. It let me research and figure this out. It’s not like coffee that keeps you up, and it’s not even affecting me like what happens when my sleep schedule gets fucked and my mental health tanks. I feel fine. I feel better than fine. And the research Sparrow I did so much research and I figured it out, and Mother Earth is helping me. Isn’t that great? That Mother Earth is helping me!”
“Oh Lark, it’s wonderful,” Sparrow says. His happiness sounds a little off, like maybe it’s tinged with worry, but Sparrow is happy for him, and on his side. Lark’s great. The plan is great. Everything is great. So great.
At the next intersection Lark looks around for where Mother Earth is leading. The lights are guiding him. The green light is for the road going from his left to his right, so he goes right.
“Is the passageway to heaven in the city or outside the city?” Lark asks Mother Earth.
“Lark are you talking to me?” Sparrow asks.
“No sorry,” Lark says. “I was talking to Mother Earth.”
“Oh,” Sparrow says. “What’s she saying to you? Is she being nice?”
“So nice Sparrow,” Lark says. “You would love her. She loves you. She didn’t say that but I can feel it. She looks over our house and she knows Mama. I’m gonna ask her to bless you and Rebecca and your baby when I’m back.”
“That would be really nice of her,” Sparrow says. “Can you make sure she knows to take care of you too?”
“Hm?” Lark is confused by the request because of course Mother Earth will take care of him. She’s Mother Earth.
“Just ask her to keep you alive and in safe places okay?”
“I’ll tell her,” Lark says, though he probably won’t. It’s silly that Sparrow wants Lark to tell Mother Earth to do something that she was already going to do.
“Thank you,” Sparrow says. “Okay, so can I meet you somewhere to give you a care package before you go to the ethereal plane?”
Lark thinks about that. Maybe that would work, but he doesn’t really need a care package. He has everything he needs and what he doesn’t have Mother Earth will give him. He gets to the next intersection and follows Mother Earth’s directions to keep going straight.
“I’ll be okay Sparrow,” Lark says. “You’re worrying too much. Mother Earth has me and she’s going to lead me to heaven and I’m going to fight god and win and use his powers to take down the Doodler.”
“That’s really noble of you,” Sparrow says. “And you’re really sure you don’t need help?”
“I’ve got this brother,” Lark says. “Just stay with Rebecca and make sure the others don’t get to you. Promise me.”
Sparrow takes a long time to think about his answer.
“Okay Lark,” Sparrow says. “I’ll stay put for now, but make sure you keep your phone on you in case you need to call me for any reason.”
“I would,” Lark says. “But you know Grant and Terry can track my phone.” He didn’t think about that until just now. Grant and Terry are probably tracking him as he speaks. A creepy crawly feeling runs up his spine. He can feel his heartrate spike again. The place where his tracker is under his skin burns. How close are Terry and Grant right now? He hasn’t been running. Are they going to catch up? “I’m gonna turn off my tracker and toss my phone,” Lark tells his brother. His stupid tracker that he and Grant got to rescue each other. It’s fully backfired on him. He’ll turn it off though. That will work. “Mother Earth will reach out if I need anything okay.”
“Wait no,” Sparrow says. “I trust Mother Earth a lot, but just turn off the location tracking on your phone and keep your phone close okay? I want to be able to call you. I’m scared.” And Sparrow does sound scared.
“It’ll be okay Brother,” Lark soothes. “Mother Earth will take care of both of us. It’s just going to be until I fight god and beat the Doodler. It won’t be long.” At least he doesn't think it will be long. “It’ll be okay.”
“Lark please don’t throw out your phone.”
Lark’s footsteps speed up. He needs to get farther away from D.A.D.D.I.E.S. and Grant and Terry. He needs to run.
“I have to go,” Lark tells his brother. “It’ll be okay. We’ll be together again soon.”
“Lark please.”
“I’m gonna say bye now. I love you.”
“Lark-”
Lark hangs up his phone. He needs to find a place to hide his phone that will keep Terry and Grant guessing. He hops up the steps of an old house and looks around until he finds a mail slot. He goes into his phone, shuts off his tracker then drops the phone into the mail slot. Easy. Terry and Grant will think it’s super strange that Lark’s in a house and they’ll have to wait until reasonable hours to ask the family if he’s in there. Perfect. Lark bounces back off the porch and looks around. The city stretches out all around him.
“Point me Mother Earth. Where is the way to heaven?”