The alarm stopped.

Everything was a blur of movement. Keagan was surrounded by uniformed people in balaclava-like hoods. Angry eyes glared at him. Hands grabbed, pushed and manoeuvred him, and he was whisked away from the identical kids.

He wasn’t able to see where he was being taken. An impenetrable wall of black-clad people around him, he was being spirited along featureless corridor after featureless corridor.

Fear had frozen him. He didn’t scream. He didn’t struggle. He just allowed himself to be carried off.

Then he was shoved through a door, which slid into place behind him. Keagan was in a stark white room. Blank plastic walls. Empty.

‘Commence decontamination.’ A voice echoed through the room.

Heart pounding, Keagan screwed his eyes shut and held his breath, expecting a spray of disinfectant or a torrent of liquid or something like the ‘decontamination’ he’d seen in countless sci-fi films.

Instead, there was a quiet hum.

He opened one eye to see the room bathed in a sterile blue glow.

He opened the other eye and exhaled.

The glow faded along with the hum.

‘Well, that wasn’t so ba–’

The room exploded in a mist of foul-smelling spray. His mouth was filled with it. It stung his eyes and made him gag.

Thankfully the mist was gone within seconds.

‘Decontamination complete.’

He tried to spit the remnants from his mouth.

The door slid open just as Keagan spat in its direction.

‘S … sorry,’ he stammered, as a group of people entered, the door closing behind them.

Keagan frowned. They were the strangest people he had ever seen. Well, the strangest since the quintuplets.

Dressed in white, like the children, these people were tall and slim with delicate features and blonde hair in the same bobbed style. Middle-aged, guessed Keagan. And there were five of them. Quintuplets again? But were they men or women? He couldn’t tell at first. Then he noticed a slight shade of stubble across the faces of three of them. So, three men and two women.

They considered him in silence, examining every feature.

Keagan sucked air through his teeth, trying to calm himself. His heart was still beating fast and his legs felt shaky.

‘You are not one of us,’ they said in unison. Their voices were even and gentle.

‘Ah … no,’ agreed Keagan, feeling uncomfortable with the way they were studying him, and because he was still damp from the spray. ‘I’m sort of here by accident.’

The two women stepped forward from the group. ‘Scans indicate that you are a human of sub-standard quality,’ they said together.

‘Gee, thanks,’ said Keagan.

‘Appreciation for stating the obvious is unnecessary,’ said the women.

‘Riiiight.’ Keagan was wondering what he should say. ‘Um … who are you?’

‘We are the Welcoming Committee.’ All five were speaking in unison again. ‘We are in charge of security. Who are you?’

‘I’m Keagan Whiley.’

‘What does it signify?’ asked the two women.

‘What do you mean?’

‘My designation is 55-A-1,’ said the first woman. ‘55th generation, processing batch A, 1st individual.’

‘My designation is 55-A-2,’ said the second woman. ‘55th generation, processing batch A, 2nd individual.’

‘We are batch supervisors,’ they said together.

‘We are batch subordinates,’ said the three men together. Then each of them spoke in turn.

‘My designation is 55-A-3. 55th generation, processing batch A, 3rd individual.’

‘My designation is 55-A-4. 55th generation, processing batch A, 4th individual.’

‘My designation is 55-A-5. 55th generation, processing batch A, 5th individual.’

‘What is your designation?’ the five of them asked together.

‘Um.’ Keagan tried to think what the correct answer would be. ‘Well, my full name is Keagan Henry Whiley. Whiley is my family name … the family group that I’m part of. Henry is … well … in memory of one of my ancestors, but I’m not sure which one. All the boys in my family have Henry as a middle name. And Keagan is my given name … my individual designation. So other people know which Whiley I am.’

The 55-As nodded.

Keagan felt relieved and rather pleased with his answer. ‘So …’ he said, looking from person to person. ‘I guess you’re all clones, huh?’

‘Your assumption is correct,’ answered the supervisors. ‘And you are not a clone.’

It was a statement rather than a question, but Keagan felt the need to answer anyway. ‘No, I’m not.’

‘Where are you from? Why are you here and how did you get into the city?’

‘Ah … well … that’s kinda hard to explain,’ said Keagan. ‘You’re probably not going to believe this … I’m from a different world. And I came through a doorway … sort of … well, a portal thing. And I’m not sure why I’m here. I had this urge to go through, even though I didn’t know where it led. But, now that I’m here, I think I’d like to go home.’

The clones nodded.

‘You believe me?’ asked Keagan, astounded. No one ever believed ridiculous but true explanations in movies.

‘We have no reason to doubt your answer,’ said 55-A-1.

‘Please go home now,’ said 55-A-2. ‘We require you to leave the city immediately.’

‘Ah …’ Keagan hesitated. ‘I don’t know how to get home.’

The clones made eye contact, then turned around. The door slid open and they walked out.

It closed before Keagan could follow.

What? Why? He didn’t want to be left alone again. The clones were odd, but having them around was better than being alone in the strange world.

‘Hey,’ shouted Keagan. ‘You can’t just leave me in here!’

There was no response.

Alone in an empty room, Keagan felt the isolation closing in on him … and his fear returned.