Two
Steve ‘‘Shooter’’ Kowolski, homicide detective on
the Houston Police Department, finished packing
the picnic supplies in the trunk of his ’66 Mustang
convertible. Shooter, known for outlandish combinations
of colors in his clothing, was dressed today
in plaid madras shorts, a bright-yellow tank top, and
leather sandals for a picnic trip to Herman Park.
He heard a door slam and looked up as his girlfriend,
TJ O’Reilly, came down the walk.
As always, the sight of her quickened Shooter’s
heart rate and caused a fluttery feeling in his stomach.
A confirmed womanizer and bachelor until
he’d met TJ, Shooter had fallen deeply in love with
the young woman; he was now entertaining
thoughts of marriage and children and a life with
her by his side.
TJ, a resident in internal medicine at Baylor College
of Medicine, stood five feet two inches and had
tousled black hair that partially covered a pretty,
gaminelike face. She and Shooter were scheduled
to meet TJ’s roommate, Samantha Scott, and her
boyfriend, Dr. Matt Carter, in less than an hour.
‘‘Come on, babe,’’ Shooter called as he slammed
the trunk lid, ‘‘we’re gonna be late.’’
TJ, whose expression was typically open and
friendly, blinked in the bright glare of Houston’s summer sun and stared at Shooter for a moment as
though she wasn’t quite sure who he was. She
searched in her purse and pulled out a large pair
of sunglasses and put them on, covering her eyes
and half her face. After a moment, her face cleared
and she smiled slowly as if awakening from a dream.
‘‘OK, OK,’’ she responded with a short laugh, and
jogged toward the car. ‘‘Don’t worry,’’ she said as
she vaulted over the door without opening it and
flounced into the passenger seat. ‘‘They’ll wait for
us. We’ve got the beer and burgers.’’
Shooter got behind the wheel, started the car, and
pulled away from the curb, wincing as the Mustang
backfired a couple of times and belched oily black
smoke from the muffler. He had a brief thought
that the faithful chariot was long overdue for a tuneup,
but the thought vanished when TJ put her hand
on his thigh and leaned her head back against the
seat.
As Shooter drove, he cast surreptitious glances at
TJ. She seemed to have recovered from the strange
episode of an hour before, but he was still worried
about the way she’d looked as she sat in his kitchen,
blood from the raw hamburger meat dripping down
her chin, her eyes glazed and unseeing.
He decided he’d have to say something to Matt
and Sam about it, but out of TJ’s hearing. There
was no need upsetting her since she apparently had
no recollection of the event.
Since it was Saturday morning, the typically horrible
Houston traffic was light, and Shooter pulled
to a stop in front of Sam and TJ’s apartment twenty
minutes later.
When Shooter opened the door and got out of
the car, TJ glanced at him. ‘‘Why don’t you just
honk, sweetheart? They know we’re coming.’’
‘‘Uh,’’ Shooter answered, ‘‘I’ve got to run in and
go to the bathroom. That beer is going right
through me.’’
TJ laughed, throwing her head back and looking
like the girl Shooter had fallen in love with. ‘‘I told
you it was too early to start on that stuff,’’ she said.
Shooter’s heart almost broke. She was the most
beautiful woman he’d ever seen, and he was afraid
to think about what might be going on inside her
even now.
‘‘I’ll only be a minute,’’ he said, slamming his
door and hurrying up the walk toward the apartment.
Matt Carter answered the door immediately after
Shooter’s knock. ‘‘Hey, pal, come on in,’’ Matt said,
turning and walking over toward a large picnic basket
on the couch. ‘‘Sam’s almost ready.’’
Matt Carter, an associate professor of emergency
medicine at Baylor College of Medicine, had been
Shooter’s best friend since grade school. Nice-looking,
with short brown hair, Matt was a little under
average height and had a trim, athletic body. He
was dressed more conservatively than Shooter in cutoff
blue jeans and a white T-shirt that read BAYLOR
RUGBY on the front.
Shooter glanced back over his shoulder to make
sure TJ was still in the car before he entered the
apartment and shut the door behind him.
‘‘Matt, we gotta talk,’’ he said, his voice serious.
Matt looked at him, still smiling. ‘‘Uh-oh. Don’t
tell me you forgot the beer?’’
‘‘No,’’ Shooter answered. ‘‘It’s TJ.’’
‘‘TJ?’’ Matt asked, the smile fading from his lips
when he saw Shooter’s expression of concern.
Just then, Samantha Scott walked into the room,
still tying her long, reddish auburn hair back into a ponytail for the ride in Shooter’s convertible. Sam,
as she was called by almost everyone, was a junior
professor of pathology at Baylor and was every bit
as pretty as TJ, though her Irish ancestry had given
her fair skin and a light dusting of freckles across
her cheeks to accent her almost red hair and green
eyes. She had on a light summer dress that fell to
just above her knees and was low cut enough to
have caught Shooter’s attention on any other day.
‘‘Hey, guys, are we ready to boogie?’’ she asked.
Sam stopped when she noticed the serious expression
on the men’s faces. ‘‘What’s going on?’’ she
asked, walking over to stand next to Matt as she
looked into Shooter’s eyes.
‘‘It’s TJ,’’ Shooter said. ‘‘She’s . . . She’s starting
to act weird again.’’
Matt and Sam looked at each other. They’d spent
many nights over the past few weeks working together
in the hospital laboratory to cure TJ of the
blood infection the vampire Roger Niemann had
infected her with after kidnapping her. They’d been
sure they’d succeeded.
‘‘What do you mean, ‘weird’?’’ Sam asked.
Shooter flung his hands out, his exasperation
clearly showing on his face. As a homicide detective,
he wasn’t experienced in relating medical signs and
symptoms. ‘‘Just, weird,’’ he finally said. ‘‘Like, this
morning, when we were getting the food ready for
our picnic, I found her in the kitchen, sitting there
with a mouthful of raw hamburger meat, and she
looked like she was in a trance. When I shook her
and asked her what she was doing, she kinda woke
up and didn’t remember anything about it.’’
Matt put his hand on his friend’s shoulder to
calm him down. ‘‘I’m sure it’s nothing, Shooter. She
was probably just daydreaming or something.’’
Sam’s lips were pursed and her eyes narrowed. It
was clear she was taking Shooter’s concerns more
seriously. ‘‘Was there anything else?’’ she asked.
Shooter nodded. ‘‘Wait until you see what she’s
wearing today for the picnic. She’s covered herself
from head to toe almost, and it’s supposed to hit
ninety degrees today.’’
Matt glanced at Sam and her very skimpy sundress
and sandals.
‘‘Did you ask her why?’’ Sam asked.
Shooter shook his head. ‘‘No, I was afraid I might
upset her. You know how worried she’s been about
what that son of a bitch did to her.’’
Before Sam or Matt could answer, the door
opened and TJ walked in. ‘‘Hey, are we going to go
on a picnic or stand around here jawing all day?’’
she asked, grinning.
She was dressed in long pants, a long-sleeved
man’s white shirt, and had a wide-brimmed hat on
with the large sunglasses covering her eyes.
Sam glanced at Matt and then back at TJ. ‘‘Jesus,
girl, what’re you wearing all those clothes for?’’ Sam
asked, walking over to TJ. ‘‘You realize how hot it’s
gonna be out at the park today?’’
TJ looked down at her clothing. ‘‘Well, you know
how the sun makes my skin itch and burn. I don’t
want to get sunburned.’’
Sam took her by the arm and led her back toward
her bedroom. ‘‘We’ve got plenty of sunscreen, TJ.
Come on and let’s get you in something a little
cooler.’’
‘‘Yeah,’’ Shooter said, a lecherous grin on his face
as he tried to make light of the situation, ‘‘how
about showin’ a fellow a little more skin?’
TJ glanced back over her shoulder, returning his smile. ‘‘With your libido, you don’t need any encouragement,
big guy.’’
After the girls had left the room, Matt said hesitantly,
‘‘She looks OK to me.’’
Shooter’s face sobered, his eyes still on TJ’s bedroom
door. ‘‘Well, maybe I’m overreacting, but keep
your eye on her and see what you think.’’
‘‘Sure,’’ Matt said. ‘‘Now, let’s get this stuff loaded
up while the girls are changing or it’ll be dark before
we get to the park.’’
As Shooter helped Matt take the picnic basket
and cooler out to the car, he said, ‘‘You know, Matt,
I’ve lived here all my life and I’ve never been to the
Houston Zoo.’’
Matt grinned as he replied, ‘‘Then you’re in for
a real treat. Just don’t stand too close to the monkey
cages. They tend to throw shit at people who stare
at them.’’
The picnic started off on a good note. Even
though it was a Saturday and the park was already
beginning to get crowded, the two couples were able
to find a spot with a barbecue pit nestled in a shady
grove of oak trees off by itself. There was just
enough of a breeze to make the heat of the morning
bearable.
Matt spread the blanket while Shooter filled the
pit with charcoal and got the fire started. TJ and
Sam opened the baskets and got out the hamburger
meat and fixings and began to cook the food.
Matt handed everyone beers and before long they
were eating hamburgers and potato salad and listening
to Shooter regale them with tales of some of
the more stupid things crooks had been doing lately.
As Shooter talked, both Sam and Matt kept an
eye on TJ, trying to be unobtrusive about it. Both
wanted to see for themselves if there was anything in her manner to suggest their attempted cure of
her recent infection with the vampire’s blood had
been unsuccessful.
They were soon relieved to find that TJ was acting
perfectly normal and seemed to be enjoying the day
as much as everyone else was.
Shooter finished his story and his hamburger at
the same time. He crushed the paper plate, stuck it
in the waste barrel nearby, and brushed his hands
off.
‘‘Now, let’s go see this zoo I’ve been hearing so
much about,’’ he said. ‘‘I’d kinda like to see if the
animals here are any better behaved than the ones
I deal with every day down at the station.’’
The tour of the zoo began uneventfully, with the
four friends enjoying ice-cream cones and sodas as
they walked among the exhibits.
‘‘OK,’’ Shooter said, licking ice cream off his fingers.
‘‘Enough of the snakes and sea lions. Where
are those monkeys you told me about, Matt?’’
Matt leaned over to TJ and whispered, ‘‘I told
Shooter he might find some relatives in the monkey
house, and he’s anxious to go see for himself.’’
Shooter put his arm around TJ’s shoulders and
pulled her away from Matt. ‘‘Don’t be going an’ tellin’
her something like that about the future father
of her kids.’’
‘‘Hell, if that’s true, then we’ve got to go see the
monkeys. TJ needs to see the kind of gene pool
she’s getting involved with,’’ Matt said.
Sam pointed to a nearby sign. ‘‘The Primate Compound
is over that way.’’
They followed the signs and were soon standing
before a row of cages containing dozens of different
species of monkeys and apes.
The animals were running and playing in their cages, climbing fake tree trunks and swinging from
old tires hung from ropes, chattering and howling
and squealing at each other.
TJ moved closer to the bars, pointing to a chimpanzee
in a corner. ‘‘Matt, is that the one you said
was related to Shooter?’’ she asked.
The chimp, seeing TJ’s arm out, ambled over to
the front of the cage, expecting a handout. When
he got close, his eyes seemed to fix on TJ and his
nostrils flared. He sniffed loudly and his lips curled
back from his teeth in a nasty snarl, revealing fangs
three inches long.
He screeched and began to jump against the bars,
beating them with his fists and gnashing his teeth
as he became more and more agitated.
Others in the cage, reacting to his actions, rushed
up to the bars, their eyes fixed on TJ while they
screamed and screeched and jumped up and down
with flailing arms.
TJ’s eyes widened and her hands went to her
mouth as Shooter pulled her away from the cages.
‘‘Jesus!’’ Matt said, taking Sam’s arm and easing
her back. ‘‘I’ve never seen them do that before.’’
‘‘Me either,’’ Sam said, her eyes moving from the
monkeys to TJ, a worried, calculating expression on
her face.
‘‘I’ve had enough,’’ TJ said in a hoarse voice,
shaking her head and walking away from the compound.
‘‘Yeah,’’ Shooter agreed, glancing over his shoulder
at the still-screeching monkeys as he led TJ away
from the cage. ‘‘Let’s head back. I think we left
some beer in the cooler that has my name on it.’’
The two couples were silent on the drive back to
the apartment shared by Sam and TJ, each absorbed with private thoughts of what had occurred at the
zoo.
When Shooter pulled up in front of the apartment
complex, he looked back at Matt and Sam. ‘‘I
think I’ll take TJ on over to my place. I’ve got some
new movies on video and we’ll just hang there for
a while.’’
‘‘That’s a great idea,’’ Sam said, glancing at the
back of TJ’s head. ‘‘Our place needs a good cleaning
and I’ll get Matt to stay and help.’’
‘‘What?’’ Matt asked.
She patted his thigh. ‘‘Just kidding, sweetie,’’ Sam
said. ‘‘Maybe I’ll let you beat me at a game of gin
rummy instead.’’
Matt frowned. ‘‘Well, that wasn’t exactly what I
had in mind for tonight.’’
Sam winked at him. ‘‘OK. Come on in and we’ll
discuss it.’’
When they got to his apartment, Shooter hastily
picked up various bits and pieces of clothing lying
around the living room and cleared a place on the
sofa in front of the TV set.
TJ, still somber after the incident at the zoo, made
no comment about Shooter’s notoriously poor
housekeeping, but merely sat on the couch and
stared at the blank TV.
Shooter, a worried frown on his face, turned the
set on and said, ‘‘I’ll make us some popcorn and
then we can watch the movies.’’
TJ looked up at him, her eyes meeting his for the
first time since they’d left the zoo. She patted the
cushion next to her.
‘‘Not now, Shooter. Come sit by me.’’
Shooter sat down next to her and put his arm
around her shoulders, pulling her head down
against his neck. ‘‘You OK, babe?’’ he asked gently.
TJ put her hand on his chest and looked up into
his eyes. ‘‘I don’t know, Shooter. . . . I really don’t
know.’’
Shooter couldn’t resist the look of hurt and fear
in her eyes. He bent his head and kissed her gently
on the lips, whispering, ‘‘I love you, TJ.’’
Suddenly, as if a switch had been turned on, TJ
reached up and put her arm around his neck and
pulled him into her, opening her mouth and returning
his kiss with an unaccustomed fervor.
As her tongue flicked his lips and she leaned
back, pulling Shooter on top of her, Shooter responded.
He fitted his body to hers, his hand on her breast
as they ground against each other. Moments later,
TJ’s hand was on his belt, pulling and tugging until
she had it undone and his shorts unbuttoned.
Shooter wasted no time and within moments they
were both naked, lying together on his couch, pressing
tight. As he moved between her legs, TJ put her
hands on his chest and shook her head. ‘‘Not
yet . . . not yet . . . ,’’ she murmured.
She pushed him over onto his back and moved
her head down his body until her hair was brushing
his groin. Shooter laid his head back and moaned
as she took him in her mouth.
TJ was like a wild woman, moving and moaning
and groaning as she made love to him with her lips
and tongue. Briefly, Shooter wondered what was going
on. TJ had never been like this before, but then
his thoughts were silenced by the pleasure she was
giving him and he ceased to think at all.
Just before he climaxed, he grabbed her head
and pulled her up on top of him. She clamped her
mouth to his as she spread her legs and took him
inside her steamy wetness.
When he groaned in final release, she moved her
mouth to his neck and began to suck and chew once
more as her hips pumped with his.
Moments later, she almost screamed as she came
with him, collapsing on top of him, her chest heaving.
Neither noticed at first the small stream of blood
trickling down his neck, or the droplets staining her
lips crimson.