I NEED HANDS TO HOLD YOU

She held up the hand, brushing it off as her heart quivered in her throat like she’d swallowed a desert wasp. It was almost perfect—all five fingers and not a scratch on any of them. She couldn’t believe it, even as she screwed it on and latched it to her wrist. It took a few seconds before activating, which was long enough to make her anxious. Her chest got tight and she flicked her eyes to the pile, already searching for a backup. Then the hand creaked in motion, thumb bending, fingers clenched. She brushed it against her cheek and savored its smooth metallic warmth. She laughed out loud with the joy of it.

“What’s that you got there?” a rough voice queried from behind her.

Damn. Endless months of careful, silent perusal, and the one time she finds a truly perfect hand, she gives herself away.

Tucking it behind her back, she shrugged. “Nuthin.”

“Seems like something. Turn around.”

There were two of them, bulky with unmatched parts, oozing oil where they’d forced pieces together. They approached her from different sides so she couldn’t attack them together. Smart for a couple of wrecks.

She turned in a circle, clenching the hand to hide its perfection. ”See?”

“What you here for, then?” one asked.

“Parts.” She raised a leg to show the rusted metal. “No luck though.”

“So get lost.”

With a casual nod, she walked beyond them, resisting the urge to look over her shoulder. They’d be watching, scanning for pieces she might have stolen from the pile. They vultured first dibs as if the right was theirs, but rights had nothing to do with it—they were big and there were two of them, so they always got the best.

Not today, though.

She’d seen the delivery, tracked it up the waste until she could slide beneath and catch hold. She’d ridden it to the pile and slipped off unnoticed when it dumped the load. It was dripping, so she knew it’d be a good one—fresh—and she’d been right.

Outside among the wilds, the hot dry sun bleached down on her shoulders, evaporating the ooze around her new hand. She scanned the dirt, searching for the path back.

There, two pebbles in a row.

And there, three more.

Carefully, she tracked her way back to the little cave made by three conjoined boulders, and the little thing she’d nestled into it early this morning. Bending down, she grinned at it and waggled each new finger, one by one. The little’s eyes lit up and it tried to sit, babbling baby nonsense. She snuggled close so it could wrap its extenders tight around her fingers.