And here’s yet another short story from my Decima series, set in a near futureworld where the world’s human population has been killed off by a devastating plague- to which only the gay gene confers immunity…

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Den Richardson doubled over as the next spasm hit him. He gritted his teeth as the wave of pain coursed through his stomach, and he grabbed an adjacent bar stool to steady himself. Despite it being high summer, Bondi was almost deserted. Gritting his teeth, the Kiwi surfer stumbled into the backpackers hostel.

Off in one of the ground floor rooms, he could hear Mina and Rita, the two English dyke nurses, as Mina cried her eyes out:

“I can’t stand any of this anymore. All of them are dying or sick, and there’s not a bloody thing we can do to help, and it’s not touching any of us, Ri. Abd we can’t do anything to help them. At the hospital, last night? We lost a young mum and her little baby. It’s all so senseless. Who’d do something like this? Why?”

“Shhh. It’s okay, Mina. I’m here, babe. Cry your eyes out.”

Through a haze of agony, he noticed someone new in the lounge. Smelt good anyway, even if he was obviously fond of his OJ. As if on cue, the bloke’s cellphone flashed the same colour, as the newcomer looked up and ran to help Den navigate his way to the lift, and his room:

“G’day. Name’s Tel. You look like you might need some help there. That’s the story. Lean on me.” Den might’ve protested if any of his old surf mates were still around to see him, but no. They were buried near Coff’s Harbour, after they’d died a week ago. Besides, this Tel was obviously a decent joker, even if his tatts suggested a hard life earlier on.

Den wasn’t prepared for what happened next, after Tel gently deposited him on his bed, and then glanced at his cellphone:

“Look mate, there’s not much time to explain. I’m going to have to take a few liberties right now, but it’s the fastest way to save your life. Belt me later if you want.” As he reached forward, Den realised what the rangy blue haired guy intended to do.

“No…” Den said weakly, as Tel’s hands gently pulled off his board shorts, but only half meaning it, as memories of his teenage experimentation with other guys at the beach came back to him, as the scent of oranges filled his nostrils. Okay, he wouldn’t exactly take mortal offense. And if he whitelined on the bed, hey, at least he’d die while someone gave him head.

He wasn’t sure how he managed to harden up, as his body surged into hacking coughs, and his lungs felt as if they were on fire. As Tel’s head moved upward, and his mouth closed over Den, he gasped as the other man’s tongue expertly worked him, sliding over the skin, stimulating him into the inevitable white explosion.

Then he came, splattering Tel’s face and chest. But then, something else happened, as the world exploded into rainbow light. It was almost evening when he awoke, and shakily said: “Hell, mate, what was that?”

“It was me, man. Apparently, the virus affects my body so that it generates these antibodies which can be transmitted to people who can be turned, as it were.”

“Why me, dude? Because I looked hot?”

“Uh no, mate. Because you’re only the third person we’ve found who does have that lifeboat gene, in the whole of Sydney- if Decima hasn’t reached a certain point.”

Den kissed him: “Doing anything or anyone for the whole of the day?”

“Not unless the sats find another bloke for me to rescue. Why?”

As he slid his hands under Tel’s speedos, Den grinned: “Because I reckon you deserve a reward for that, lifesaver man…”