Chapter 23 — Gospel of Luke / Apocalypse

It was common, although not that common, for Yum Yums employees to take their breaks outside. It was not necessarily against store policy, but Craig and other management encouraged employees to stay inside, in case they needed a headcount in an emergency or in case they needed to call up extra employees during extraordinary circumstances.

Most who took their breaks outside would smoke a quick cigarette. The cold weather had not changed this too much. Just outside the building, Monty was lighting his Marlboro Red. While those who took their breaks in the break room were often crowded near coworkers at the tables, there was very little socialization happening outside. Sometimes one would mutter something to another or crack a joke, but more or less, this is where some of the quieter types liked to take their break.

Yomotsu was not the quiet type or a smoker, but he was outside today. He wore his poofy red coat over his green work polo. Sitting against the wall, he drew his legs in and closed his arms around them. He took in a deep breath and exhaled. He really was not hungry, and it really was not that cold.

He heard some footsteps get closer along the paved path, and then someone's clothing shuffled nearby.

"Hey, Hiro."

Yomotsu leaned his head up, although he knew well who it was by the voice. There was no mistaking that voice. Luke was leaning against the wall, in his light brown coat. His hands were in his pockets; he probably smiled down at Yomotsu.

"Luke," Yomotsu said. "Don't you have employees to boss around?"

He could not call him Light. Just Luke for now. Luke probably knew that he had told Yomotsu his real name; he might even still remember finding out that Hiro's real name is Yomotsu. By relinquishing ownership of the Death Note, only memories of the Death Note should have been erased. There was no certainty of what he knew. They might mutually have been playing a little name game. For Yomotsu, that was painful. The name "Luke" had certain connotations. That was his friend. If he could call him Light instead, that would allow him to disassociate the two, but as the situation stood, Light and Luke were the same person.

"Haha. I get a break too, sometimes." He paused. "What're you doing out in this cold, anyway?"

Yomotsu scrunched his nose. "I wanted some fresh air."

Luke waited a bit. "I see…"

The truth was not meant for Luke. Not for Light, at least, and as the situation stood, Light and Luke were the same person. He thought to himself how he would have no trouble telling Luke about everything, considering how much Luke had shared with them. How much he had trusted them. This was nothing, compared to what pain he had shared with them. Maybe.

"The path of justice is always a lonely one," Yomotsu murmured. He stopped himself. That was not the right thing to say. It came too automatically, too transparently. He had to cover that up. "…Sometimes, you have to face some things alone. You don't tell others—or if you do, it won't make a difference. Some things can't be changed, once they have occurred. And spreading an irreversible pain… That has more to do with selfishness and anger than trusting others."

Bad cover. Too transparent, too genuine, too honest. The truth was not for Luke. Not for Light, at least. But as the situation stood, Light and Luke were the same person. He could not cut them apart. Light was still within. The potential was still there. To trust him now, just because his memories were gone—

"Wrong," Light said. "I agree with that. At least, in my experiences, telling someone else has always helped. I tend to keep a lot of things to myself, but that's just because I often only tell an individual a little bit. But as a whole, I tell everyone everything. Just don't invest all of your trust in a single person, and you'll be fine. At least, that's what has worked for me."

Yomotsu shrugged. Was that what he was doing—investing only a little trust in them? Was that how it was—with Mercy?

"As for justice," Light continued. "Not sure what you were getting at, exactly, but…" He sighed. "I don't even know what 'justice' is these days. I mean, I know that I should be glad that Kira has stopped killing. People on TV and in the papers are saying that. Everybody is happy that Kira has stopped. But not so long ago, that wasn't the case. A lot of people were happy about it, and when Kira was active, those people were talking the loudest… Who am I to believe? I guess there's always the 12th and Lunatic. But their kind of justice is different. And I'm not sure it's enough."

"Oh?"

"I mean, what they're doing is great. They've kept us all safe. And through their cooperation with the police, they've stopped a lot of criminals. But the crime rate was not going down. It was growing, and more dangerous criminals came in to challenge them. And putting them all in jail—is that really the right answer? I mean…" He chuckled. "I'm the son of a police chief, so I know it isn't that simple. And I know the 12th and Lunatic are doing the best they can. I just wish there was an easier, a better way. And while I know what Kira was doing was evil, I can see why a lot of people liked the simplicity. Kill the bad guys… But that's just not the way the world works."

He sat down next to Yomotsu. The silence was uncomfortable on Yomotsu's side, mostly because he was preoccupied by wondering how uncomfortable the silence was on the other side.

"How have you been these days, Luke?"

It was a dangerous question. He did not know how much he should even care, given the circumstances. He could not pin any portion of his life on Luke's happiness; it was a sham and a waste of his conscious attention. But he asked out of impulse. Maybe conditioning—maybe, it crossed his mind, that this is what the old Luke wanted. Maybe he manipulated Yomotsu so that Yomotsu would care about how his friend was doing, that he would check up on his friend. That would give the old Luke something to exploit. In the end, the friendship did not protect Luke. Really, the friendship was pointless.

"I've been great," Luke said. The answer sounded hollow. "Work is going great, and I have picked up some great books to read in my time off. I have to keep my studies going."

Yomotsu nodded. Definitely hollow. Definitely hollow, without Mercy. "I have been doing great too, now that I hang out all the time with Mercy," he wanted to say. Or at least, part of him wanted to say that. A twisted part. A hurting, throbbing part, where cold pizza and Soul Calibur turned sour in his gut.

"Wonderful," Yomotsu said.

"And you?"

He paused. "I have a lot on my mind."

"That's kinda what I guessed." He was scratching the back of his head. "Listen, you don't have to tell me, but just know that if you want someone to talk to, I can listen. I can keep a secret, if that's the case."

The twisted part wanted to say, "I know you can keep a secret. You kept a big one from Yuri and me." But that was not what he said. The words were warm, when they left his lips. His chest hurt. He forgot his cold skin.

"I found out more about my family. My father left me to die on a pile of trash, and my mother broke down mentally before committing suicide, thinking her precious son had died."

He told Mercy the night he found out. Now he was telling Luke. Even Yuri did not know yet.

It was not that he did not trust Yuri. Really, he trusted Yuri more than Luke. A lot more, and that went without saying, without even putting into conscious thought. But, situationally, this had been convenient. He was in the right mood, and this was a quiet and private moment. So he told Luke.

"Hiro…" Luke was looking toward him. He said some comforting words. In this gospel of Luke, there was a hopeful tone, but it was hollow. It was hollow, just like any happiness Luke had now, without Mercy. His words were hollow now, because they fell not on deaf ears, but sensitive, hyper-aware ears. Luke's words could only be hollow to Yomotsu, after what happened. That is, Light's words—but as the situation stood, Luke and Light were the same person.

And nothing could change that situation.

They went back inside, and Yomotsu washed his hands.

Yuri ripped the paper towel from the dispenser and wiped his hands over the sink. He glanced back at the table. Meilag was talking with Ben.

"To me, life holds no more meaning than that of a potential tool. That's often all I think of people. Potential tools, nothing more. I do not care about them. I do not sympathize with them. I routinely use and discard people. If they're lucky, they'll be no worse for the wear. If they're unlucky, a variety of misfortunes may befall them. Though I don't believe in killing for no reason. I would never just go out and start shooting people. That's pointless and wasteful. But I don't shy away from killing when it's necessary. It's just that our definition of what's necessary may differ."

Ben looked up from his cup of soup. He looked sick, but not terribly surprised any more. It was not as though Meilag had ever really given anyone a reason to believe he was not capable of saying such things. From his first day at Yum Yums, the shelf stocker had never shied away from offending anyone. He did not go out of his way to do it, either. It was obvious he thoroughly believed everything he said.

"What are you?" Ben murmured. "Some kind of devil?"

Meilag chuckled. "Oh, yes. Him. To be fair, I may think higher of him than I do of God. But don't get me wrong, I'm not a Satanist. I hate both of them. But the real hell of it is... God is the stronger one, right? So whatever Satan does, God is merely allowing him to do or subtlety tricking him to do. See, God is a trickster. He would allow Satan "free reign" because he wants Satan to think he has that. I'm convinced that Satan, if he exists, is merely being used as an unwitting pawn for God. I doubt Satan ever chose his victims, even though he probably thinks he did. God chose for him. After all, Lucifer is merely an angel, a lesser being compared to God. All of those bad things blamed on the devil are only a portion of God's cruelty. The rest is something Satan wouldn't do."

Meilag's pale face remained hovering over his fried chicken. His reddish-brown eyes never wavered when he spoke. Meilag had a funny habit of not blinking at all when he spoke. He held a constant glare on whomever he directed his words, and his mouth often times would twitch from a grimace to a wry grin. His hair was greasy-black and unkempt. He wore his collar popped up, and although that was expressly against store dress policy, no one really did anything about it. He was a respected shelf stocker, possibly the hardest worker in the building outside of management.

Ben rose, dumped out the rest of his soup, threw away his garbage, and then walked out of the break room. Yuri sat back down, next to Meilag. At his spot was his unopened bottle of organic green tea with honey and his fruit salad. Yuri was not hungry. He just needed some energy to get him through the second half of his cashier shift. Mercy was the supervisor on duty today, and just because they were friends did not mean she would go easy on him. In fact, she was rather harsh with Yuri's cashiering, finding almost everyday something to nitpick about his performance.

Yuri stabbed a red grape with his plastic fork. "You certainly have a way with words, Meilag," he commented.

The other scoffed. "I am the most honest man in this entire building."

Yuri popped the grape in his mouth. He looked up at Meilag. He stabbed a piece of cantaloupe. "You're sharp, if nothing else. You cut people with your words, and you realize it, too. Some might say you're cruel for that."

That elicited a little laugh. "Well, I don't go punch random orphans on the street, but I've lied, cheated, and stole my way to where I am. And many things of a much more...illegal nature... that I'd rather not go into details and incriminate myself over. I could definitely find a good amount of people who will say that I ruined their lives."

The cantaloupe tasted like strawberries and grapes. "But something tells me you're not one to keep track of the people you step on." That was the trouble with fruit salads; everything at some point started to taste like a blend of everything else. That was not always bad, but the grapes were never very grape-y, nor the strawberries very strawberry-y.

"Correct," Meilag said. "But it is not as though I do things randomly. If I target someone, I choose my targets for a good reason. For instance, I would have no problem killing ol' Ben if the gains were large enough, or simply because he may have made me angry too many times. One of the two. I have no problem with murdering people, but I'm not going to go on a shooting rampage—that's reckless and wasteful."

Yuri furrowed his brow and smiled, a little wickedly. "But if someone like Kira kills all of the criminals, you are satisfied?"

Meilag tapped his long nails on the table. His pale, hairless face started to redden a bit. His eyes were racing back and forth, left and right. "Kira… Kira was such a disappointment. He had such potential, but like so many others before him, he failed to go to the full lengths. If I had the kind of power he must have had, I wouldn't pick off the weakest elements of humanity. I would ascend to the higher plane of existence and find the highest power. And kill it. And when that old God is writhing, bloody, I would take my spot at the throne—not that I care much about pomp. I'm not nearly as interested in praise and worship as the superficial Judeo-Christian God. But power means security, and at the end of the day, I would be a fool to submit to any fate or stand for anything less than the best I can have."

Seriously, the watermelon tasted disgusting. It soaked up all the juice from the other fruits, so it tasted like pineapple-cantaloupe-strawberry-grape-watermelon. He cracked open his tea and drank until the watermelon's mixed fruit taste was gone. He then looked back at Meilag.

"And yet some might say that it's best to settle for one's own lot in life. Maybe that's your problem, Meilag. You're never content with what you already have."

Meilag growled at the end of his sigh. "Personally, my outlook has never been great. A tough life, you know. But it's merely gotten worse as I've moved up in the world. The problem is that when a person is always exposed to the utmost worst of humanity and life itself, he comes to realize that these things are far more lasting than the small pleasures of life. I doubt anything will change. At my age, I should be concerned about finding a lasting relationship and maybe start to think about offspring and a house and a white picket fence and all that hogwash. But I'm not. In fact, such things have never even entered into serious thought. Some humans are just wired differently. But I don't think I have a negative outlook on life and death. I have a realist's outlook. Because I've experienced the world as it truly is, for a very long time. And you, Yuri… Why, you probably have never experienced real pain, real hardship. Real agony. And I wonder what you'd turn out to be, after coming out of those flames… Why, you might not like it any more than you like who I have become."

Yuri drank from his bottle of organic green tea with honey. He silently regarded Meilag as a fool. "You talk too much."

Meilag laughed and slammed his hand on the counter.

Yuri thought of his father beating his mother. He thought of how he killed his father. He thought about how his mother regarded him the rest of her life, and how her mental state deteriorated until the end. He thought about Vidalia. And he thought about Yomotsu's experiences; he even thought of the shakes in Yomotsu's voice when he told him about his father and mother. That was at the end of January. It was now February 6th.

"But you don't scare me," Yuri said. "I don't know how much of what you say is an act, but I'm not afraid. Some might say you're scary, though, but I have a high tolerance."

Meilag frowned. "I'm not scary at all. I'm a realist. Alright, maybe I'm a little scary… But there's no need for you to be afraid." He raised his fried chicken leg toward Yuri. "Like with Kira, most people would never need to fear me."

The shelf stocker rose and threw away the chicken bones and greasy container. Yuri watched him stop by the door. Meilag had his back turned to Yuri.

"There's an apocalypse coming, Yuri," he said. "If Kira returns, his followers will not allow him to quit so easily this time. If Kira is truly defeated, someone else will step up in his place. The world has tasted the promise Kira held out. The people on TV and in the papers will rejoice now, but the tone will soon change. Be careful, Yuri. It would be unfortunate if you or Yomotsu were to end up hurt or killed. The ones who aren't interested in protecting themselves are the ones who will lose themselves. And when the preachers of unconditional love arrive, the ones who fail to stand on concrete ground and fight for themselves are the ones who will be the first to die. It will be their worthless blood that will pour at Kira's altar—and how sad it would be to submit in that day. Kira will pull more than a sword from his throat."