Chapter 1: Groove

In retrospect, Deke wished he hadn’t hung his hopes on mere cleaning to distract him from his work. He had the time free; it was Gerry’s turn to bike to the post office and pick up their packages. Chances were, Gerry had some kind of new toy coming his way. Deke admired Gerry for maintaining his eager enthusiasm over game design and testing. That kind of tenacity would carry him far in his chosen career. That passion and loyalty had been part of the mix that had cemented their relationship.

Deke had reason to worry about falling behind on points in their personal game of life and loving. Every day he’d let the dishes stack and laundry collect, he had edged closer to becoming Gerry’s personal houseboy. Deke’s mind had been on not losing. Gerry, quite naturally, had decided to go for the win.

Deke had gotten pretty good at not losing in the year he'd lived with Gerry. A spate of morning rain had kept him off the balcony and away from his current project. At least, that was what he told himself. Once the kitchen work was handled, Deke penned in his points on the score card and decided to go for a bonus round of vacuuming. He didn’t even glance at the layout designs taped to the wall, or ponder the usually-fascinating questions of style and color. Something in him had gone stubborn. He wasn’t yet ready to take on another fight with himself.

Gerry came bustling in from the rain, color high from biking out and back to retrieve the deliveries that wouldn’t fit in their tiny post office box. He shed his threadbare jacket and kicked his Swiss cheese chucks off into the corner behind the door. The vibrant high energy was so unusual on Gerry, Deke cut off the vacuum and came to investigate.

“It’s here,” Gerry said, breathless and excited. “Stay here. I can’t do this on my own. Just stand right there.”

Deke stayed put, but crossed his arms over his chest. “I thought the new release of Clicks wasn’t until next week.”

“It isn’t,” Gerry said as he wrestled with his backpack’s contents. “Here’s your stuff from GangWay. It must be paints. It rattles.”

Deke tossed the box down on the table, disinterested. “Thanks. What are you buzzing on, dude?”

“Wait for it…” Gerry said. He dug out an airmail envelope and sat down on the edge of the rickety table. His hands were shaking so hard the letter rattled in his fingers. Then he tore the side open and pulled a handful of pages out. “Oh fuck. People don’t write letters this long just to say no.”

“What is it?” Deke demanded. “You’re going to break that table leg for the last time if you sit like that.”

Gerry got up and started pacing the narrow kitchen as he read the letter. He was nearly bouncing by the time he got to the last page. Then he let out a victorious whoop, grabbed Deke and spun him around, claiming a deep and hungry kiss. Deke wrapped himself around Gerry, sucked at his heat and excitement and leaned into his hip. To his surprise, Gerry pushed him away and held him at arm’s length.

“Baby, we are moving to Australia,” Gerry grinned widely, clearly waiting for Deke’s excitement to show.

“Do what?” Deke heard himself ask.

“Australia,” Gerry repeated. “The counterweight continent? They’ve got this opera house…”

“I know Australia,” Deke snapped. “Did you win a contest or something?”

“No,” Gerry said, starting to show impatience and annoyance. “A contract. Maybe. It’s real work, real money… you said you would help me, man.”

“Oh.” Deke struggled to recall any kind of Gerry-related thing with Australian flavoring. “Oh! Yes! Flaming cannibals on the rampage, right?”

“Zombies,” Gerry impatiently corrected. “Maybe. It could be aliens, nothing’s nailed down yet. I’ve just been hung up on zombies for a while, now… Damn, you don’t even remember.”

Continued in First Section