Some hours later, Callum woke suddenly from his doze as the lock mechanism on the first aid room door clicked. He opened his eyes just in time to see the door swing gently open. The main light was out, leaving the room in darkness apart from the light through the glass window in the door to the corridor. He could not see who was entering the room, as they were silhouetted against the corridor lights, but his or her lab coat meant it was most likely not Gordon returning with the results.

"Are you just checking on me, or is it more tests?" he asked the figure.

"Just tests," the figure mumbled, his voice clearly male, walking into the room and carefully closing the door.

"Did anyone bring any books for me?"

"I don't know. Sorry," came the mumbled reply.

Callum started to sit up, but as he did the figure lunged forward and pushed him back into the bed with an outspread palm. Caught off guard, Callum fell back against his pillows, somewhat startled.

"What's going on?"

"This won't take long," came the reply, not mumbled this time, the voice sounding most familiar.

"You don't have to push."

The figure reached into his lab coat pocket and pulled out a clear-plastic hypodermic syringe. As the figure snapped the seal off the needle, Callum realised that everything was wrong about this. Why did the doctor leave the lights out? Why the use of force and what was the syringe for?

Beginning to panic, he tried again to sit up and impulsively reached out to grab the syringe arm of the figure leaning over him. His fingers clamped around the figure's wrist, restraining his attempt to use the syringe. Using his other hand, Callum attempted again to sit up, but the figure, unable to break his arm free of Callum's grip, twisted around and punched Callum hard in the stomach.

Severely winded and reeling from the sharp aching, Callum dropped back onto the bed again, pulling his legs up in pain. He kept his firm grip on his assailant's wrist but the assailant quickly transferred the syringe to his free hand and plunged the needle into Callum's neck. Callum grabbed at the syringe, knocking his assailant's hand out of the way before grabbing the syringe and yanking it out of his flesh. It was already too late. Numbness spread rapidly across his chest and into his arms. A paralysis spread with it, quickly removing his ability to move his arms.

The assailant reached out and hit the button to activate the lamp attached to the head of the bed. The sudden brightness blinded Callum for a second. His assailant took the opportunity to retrieve the empty syringe from Callum's unresponsive grip and then simply dropped it on the floor beside the bed. As his eyes adapted to the light, Callum stared into the face of his mystery assailant. As clarity returned, he had the sensation of gazing at his reflection. His assailant was identical in every detail. It was one of the other Callums.

The other Callum quickly yanked him out of the bed and dropped him heavily onto the tiled floor. The fall should have hurt but paralysis had already taken complete hold of Callum's body, rendering him helpless but leaving him mostly conscious. As soon as he was on the floor the other Callum pulled off his lab coat and began to hurriedly pull it onto Callum's limp form. It took a lot of heaving and effort but eventually, it was in place. The other Callum slid his hospital-style rubber clogs off his feet and pushed them onto Callum's.

Callum could only watch helplessly as the other Callum clambered into the trolley bed, pulled the thin covers over his legs and then looked around the room for a moment. He looked down at Callum and smiled briefly before loudly yelling for help. He shouted five times before the door from the corridor burst open and two medical staff ran into the room.

"He attacked me!" gasped the other Callum, pretending to be shocked. "He tried to stick that needle in me, but I woke up just in time."

The taller member of medical staff hit the wall switch to activate the room lighting, and the shorter one knelt beside the frozen form of Callum on the floor. He checked Callum's eyes and expertly took his pulse.

"He's conscious! But he can't seem to move."

"What was in that syringe?" asked the taller one, pointing to the spent hypodermic syringe on the floor.

The shorter one scooped it up and read the label, "Carisoprodol. It's a very powerful muscle relaxant."

"Saves us having to restrain him. I'll get security to take him back upstairs."

"It's a good job you managed to defend yourself," said the shorter medical staff member as he got to his feet. "If he'd overpowered you, we'd have had no way of knowing which of you was which."

Callum could not even protest as two security men arrived and dragged him away to the secure area on the floor above. He had no way of knowing whether the Callum in the bed was B or C, but he knew that there was no way of proving that he was not Callum A. Even protesting that he was the original would make him look more like one of the copies.

When the door to the small secure room was locked and he was left lying alone on the only bed, still paralysed, he could do nothing more than think. Then he remembered the Institute's plan to euthanise the copies.

- The End -