Hatchetfield Stories

A Two And A Three

My mental health is shit and I'm not sure how that'll affect my uploads; I'll either write a lot as a way to cope or way less than I'm used to, we'll see

TRIGGER WARNINGS:
-Needles
-Captivity
-Death
-Blood

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Paul awoke to a sharp pain in his forearm, accompanied by a faint buzzing he could barely hear over the ringing in his ears. Multiple people moved around him, and he could feel a needle slide into his arm. He struggled against the bindings tying him to the tilted-back chair.

"Twenty-three, can you hear me?"

Twenty-three? No, he was Paul Matthews, a normal guy who worked a boring office job and just moved in with his girlfriend. Emma. He didn't know what was going on, but he hoped she was okay. Was he kidnapped? Or was there something more?

He pried his eyelids open, but it took a while before his eyes were able to focus on anything. That was when he was the woman sitting in front of him, tattooing a number onto his arm.

A two and a half-finished three.

Twenty-three.

Oh.

Before he could even process what he was seeing, someone else pried his mouth open, swabbing his cheeks and handing the cotton swab to someone out of his sight.

"Inserting tracker now," a male voice said behind him, and he could feel someone grab him by his hair, pulling on it to expose his neck. Something was stabbed into the side of his neck, and he heard a 'click' as the tracker was released.

"W-What's going on?" Paul asked, his voice shaking as he looked at the people around him, all of them wearing lab coats.

"You are part of the biggest project of CCRP yet," the woman who had just finished tattooing him said, putting the tattoo gun down. "A mining colony on the moon, staffed by clones of a mister Paul Matthews."

"Clones?! Am I-"

"A clone? Yes. Number twenty-three." She wiped at the irritated skin she'd just tattooed.

"But CCRP writes movie reviews!"

The woman laughed. "That's what they want you to think. Only about half of the employees at CCRP are aware of the office's real purpose."

Paul swallowed hard, taking it all in. "Does Bill know?"

"Who?"

"Bill Woodward. He's... my best friend."

"I'm not sure who knows and who doesn't. And even if I did, that is not information I'd tell one of our subjects."

"His DNA matches," one of the scientists working behind a desk spoke up. "He's good to go."

"Alright. Twenty-three, don't try anything, or you will be punished. Understood?"

Paul nodded slowly, wincing as she came closer to undo the restraints tying him to the chair.

He was led to a big room, where rows of bunk beds lined the walls. Inside he counted about two dozen other Pauls, and while most of them didn't even look up at the sound of the door opening and closing behind him, one of them approached him. Paul Fourteen, judging by the tattoo on his left arm.

"Hey, Paul!" he said cheerfully, though Paul could see the exhaustion in his eyes. "Welcome! It's not big, but let me show you around."

*** *** ***

Over the next few weeks, Paul befriended Fourteen. None of the scientists cared when he told them he didn't want to participate in their 'project', even earning a slap in the face when he said he wanted to go home. But Fourteen understood, going through it himself.

Both of them desperately wanted to get back to Emma.

So they formed a plan.

It was simple: the other Pauls would rebel, and Fourteen and Twenty-three would go and escape, get better gear, and come back to save the others. Not that they ever would come back, but the other Pauls had to believe it, knowing they were also desperate to live a normal life again.

The plan spread like a wildfire amongst the Pauls, and none of the scientists suspected a thing.

So when the day of the rebellion came, it was easy for them to slip through the door and run through the halls of the facility.

"Let's go to the lab and get supplies!" Fourteen shouted over the blaring alarm. "We have to get these trackers out first!"

Paul nodded, and they went into the empty lab, stuffing scalpels and suture kits into a bag one of the scientists had abandoned in the chaos, as well as two clean suits.

Then, they bolted for the elevator.

The elevator went up to the Earth's surface agonizingly slow, and Paul's heart beat dangerously fast in his chest.

The doors slid open, and they ran for an alleyway near the CCRP building, avoiding eye contact with anyone as they sprinted down the street.

Once in the alleyway and after a few moments of rest, Paul opened the bag, handing the scalpel to Fourteen. "I'll go first," he said, swallowing hard.

Fourteen nodded, positioning himself. "Don't scream, we can't let them find us." He pressed on Paul's neck, feeling for the tracker, before slicing open the skin.

Paul winced, biting his tongue to muffle the pained screech that left his throat.

"We should've brought tweezers," Fourteen said as he dug his fingers into the cut. "Found it."

After pulling out the tracker, stomping on it, and the slow and painful process of stitching the wound back together, Fourteen handed Paul the scalpel, looking anxious.

"You ready?" Paul asked, trying to hide the smile on his face.

"Yeah, I just-"

He screamed as Paul stabbed the scalpel into his chest, blood dripping from his lips. "W-What?" he sputtered, his eyes wide as he looked up at Paul.

"There can only be one Paul Matthews." Paul stood up as Fourteen glared at him, taking off his bloodstained suit, grabbing a clean one from their bag, and putting it on. "Goodbye, Fourteen."

Now, the only one keeping him from living his life was the original.

But not for long.

*** *** ***

Paul had just finished cleaning up the bloodstains on the carpet when Emma came home.

"I'm home!" she called out, before coming into the living room, looking exhausted. "God, I'm so going to look for another job. I had to stay for three hours after my shift to learn yet another stupid tip song!" she complained. "How was your day?"

Paul smiled. "Better now I'm with you."

God, he'd missed her, he realized as he pressed a kiss to her forehead.

But at last, they'd be together.

Forever and always.