Hands [page 1]

Hands

Nobody in the world either ignores or misunderstands the value of two hands. They are necessary in all kinds of work. There have been men and women born without hands, but they compensated in their own clever ways. Still, the need for hands is an undeniable fact around the world.

One evening in South Birmingham, at a small local hospital, a man of thirty-eight years lay awaiting an operation. He was five feet six inches tall, fair in appearance and calm in his manner. The operation was surgery on his hands, which were severely broken and disabled due to a sudden accident, and he was due to receive a transplant.  The surgeon was pleased to help him. He recognized the patient as a talented artist and a lecturer on art at a public university in the city.  However, due to the lack of donations of body parts that year, transplants were rare and difficult. While the doctor studied the donation, a low voice cried from a remote ward of the hospital. The surgeon and his attendant nurse ignored it. The surgeon had secured the hands from a nameless donor.

The patient lay, waiting in his bed in the ward. A few moments prior, the nurse had searched the supply room for the hands and found them. When the surgeon inquired, she merely replied,

“The donor wishes to remain anonymous, doctor.”

Eventually, news of this mysterious donation and the operation had reached the office of the local constabulary. But the constable on duty was busy outside when the news arrived. He learned about the case only when he returned to the office to close it and go home. Thus, he carried the news home with him and informed his family. He had a wife, 34 years and a daughter, 17 years.

“So, Professor Albritton of the university Art Department is expecting a transplant but there are no facts about the donor.”

“What?” gasped the daughter, amazed, “Nothing?”

“Nothing. He wishes to remain anonymous.”

This news led the girl, X, to investigate on her own. Occasionally, she had assisted her father in some less dangerous cases and understood the modus operandi. She was aware of personal risks; but she could not understand why the donor had not given any information and she wanted to know. She arrived at the hospital about thirty minutes before the operation.

The surgeon and the nurse on duty attended the patient seriously and meticulously,  as he lay on the assigned table in the Operating Theatre.  

“Professor, Albritton, we are indeed pleased to perform this transplant. Rather unexpectedly, we received a donor but we have no facts about him. He simply left both his hands at our disposal,” the surgeon informed him.

The patient was thrilled. However, at the moment of anaesthetizing him, the teenager ran into the Operating Theater followed closely by an orderly. The orderly repeatedly warned her about the pending operation.

“Doctor!” she cried in a clipped accent, “Doctor, shouldn’t you learn more about the donor before you operate?”

He looked at her calmly for a moment; and then he turned to the orderly “Atwill, take her away. We will handle her later.”

The orderly caught up with her and seized her shoulders firmly. Then, he freed one hand and clapped it over her mouth. He led her out of the theater followed by the nurse, who returned to assist the operation.

The surgeon proceeded to treat the patient’s wrists medically and then he reached for a pair of strong, very masculine hands lying together on a tray nearby. He cleansed the patient’s wrists and the wrists of the severed hands thoroughly, and the nurse handed him a reel of surgical thread. Together, they grafted the hands onto the patient’s wrists and stitched them into place firmly. They bound the patient’s wrists with bandages and left him to heal.

In the remote ward, the orderly stood like a security guard over a certain bed. On the bed, a girl of 17 years was lying on her back. Her wrists and ankles had been bound with several lengths of surgical tape. He had removed her shoes and stockings, which lay loosely under the bed, after lying her down and bound her. Her eyes and nose were all that were visible of her face. Her cheeks and mouth were concealed under several lengths of bandage. But beneath them, he mouth had been gagged with surgical tape. She stared crossedly at him.

“Don’t look at me like that, girl. I warned you to stay away from the Operating Theater, didn’t I?”

She mumbled inaudibly.

“You have to stay here until the patient is able to be released. Then we shall see whether to send you home.”

In the local precinct station, the girl’s father sat reading data regarding several recent cases including homicide.  One of the homicide cases caught his attention. It read that a man of 35 years, name and origin withheld, had been captured for homicide. Supposedly, he had strangled all of his victims, who were men and women of various ages between 28 and 37 years.  The investigating officer was seeking details about the murderer and his victims, to conclude the case. The inspector stopped sort over one line. It read that, at the hour of his execution, the murderer supposedly exclaimed “My hands will carry on my work after I die.”

‘What?’ he thought. ‘How is that possible?’

The inspector knew that a dead man’s mind could not compel and manipulate the body. Cases to that extent remained unsubstantiated. Stories about it were merely stories. He looked up from the documents for a second and remembered his daughter. Then he telephoned his wife, who was at home.

“Margaret, it’s me.”

“Hello, Angus. What’s the matter?”

“Where is Anne now?”

“She’s---wait a second. I’ll go and look.” She placed her receiver and went to look for the daughter. Then she came back and gasped with alarm. “Angus, she is gone! No idea where she went. You have to find her!”

“That I will! Don’t worry. Just stay at home. I’ll call back.”

“OK!”