November through March, when Animalistic closed completely, was always a depressing time for Tucker. Though he got to spend all the time he wanted with some of his allegedly-less-evolved buddies, frolicking nude was at a minimum, or at least, outdoor frolicking was. The jungle section was shut down and some of its inhabitants were relocated south for the winter. Other creatures more or less hibernated in climate-controlled fortresses for months, so Tucker more or less did the same. He was a loner, with no more family and no lover to go home to, to cuddle with on a cold winter’s night. He hadn’t had one of those for a long time, and doubted he ever would again. That’s what he’d been thinking, almost ready to climax, when the eerie feeling of dread—of danger—had overtaken that of lust.
“I need your help, Sam,” Tucker said, pulling a pair of tattered shorts over sopping-wet legs. “Check on Olivia and the others, and then go see what you can find.”