(no other great ape can swim, or is remotely happy about going in water [except two cases of domesticated apes in 2013, the only known examples] and most monkeys are downright afraid of water)
*splash*
‘What the - are they trying to drown themselves now?’
'They float. Of course they float.’
“Where are we?” Bessie looked around. It was an island, she could tell that much. There was a modest little house and a garden, and something of a beach.
“This definitely ain’t the Colorado River,” said Glen.
They’d stopped for a picnic, she could remember that. And maybe a little newlywed privacy in the woods.
The house looked like something off those horrible pulp magazines. All it needed was a girl with a torn dress and a fishbowl on her head, being menaced by something with tentacles, fur, or both.
There were no dresses. No clothes at all. Both she and her new husband were stark naked. Had they been naked, before? Bessie couldn’t remember. “Do you… remember anything after setting up the picnic?”
Glen looked… lost. And more than a little angry. “No. It’s all… gone… There’s something wrong with this beach…”
There was something wrong with everything, here. It was all too… organised. Bessie got up and washed the sand off in the lapping water, then crossed to the house. There were no doors. Just holes in the smooth and unnatural walls.
And inside… it was like a spread from Better Living. Stuff she and Glen could never afford. And the closets - also doorless - were filled with the most modern styles.
“Looks like we’re marooning in style, Mrs Hyde.”
“Indeed we are, Mr Hyde,” she giggled. It felt good to have clothes. Clothes that fit, right off the rack. She only wished there was a mirror in this place.
“Oh look. Swimming trunks.” He cycled back out of his tailcoats and starched shirt to put them on. He flexed for her. “I can scout around in the water.”
Bessie changed out of her Chanel gown and into a one-piece of her own. “Well you’re not doing it alone. I vowed to stay by your side and that’s what I intend to do.”
Glen offered his elbow. “Then shall we proceed to paddle, Mrs Hyde?”
“Don’t mind if I do, Mr Hyde.”
*
“What are they doing now?” asked Yxorb.
“Are they aware of their captivity?” enquired Viirk.
“Nonsense. This environment is carefully researched and based on their ideals of paradise.”
“I told you not to use our materials for the domicile…”
“They’re going underwater! They can’t breathe air!”
“Are they trying to drown themselves?”
“They float. Of course they float. All right. Activate the reserve barrier. Make sure they can’t reach us.”
“They already can’t see or hear us. Why would they want to leave their paradise?”
“Look! Look! Aquatic adaption,” Yxorb pointed out the screen where the humans were swimming. “I told you they might have had a period of amphibiousness.”
“Yes, very well done. Shall we get on with stopping them from escaping? Or preventing them from killing us all?”
Yxorb sighed as she flicked the switch. “You’re the one who wanted a breeding pair of deathworlders in her zoo…”
*
They were lucky they weren’t swimming very fast. Glen brought her up to the surface, treading water.
“Ow,” muttered Bessie.
“Are you all right?”
“It just stings, darling. I’ll be fine.” To prove it, Bessie began treading water, too, and knocked on the invisible wall. “Is this one of the new plastics?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never seen any.” Glen ran his hand over the surface. “It’s weird. I can feel something solid… but there’s no texture. It’s like… carved air…”
“Let’s get back to the island. I’m scared.”
“This whole place is wrong,” murmured Glen. “We’ll figure something out, love. You and me. We’re a team.”
Together, they made their way back to the unnatural island paradise. Their very own eden. They’d make it. One day at a time.
[AN: Glen and Bessie Hyde were real people who vanished during a rafting trip down the Green and Colorado Rivers. You can read about it here.]
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