She was cleaning up the mess from the kitchen when she saw from the window Logan steering camels towards the desert, gruesome load of Wolverine’s handiwork behind him on the trolley. She couldn’t see Sam. She wasn’t worried. Logan hadn’t sounded angry earlier, just tired. Sick and tired of the boy’s antics. Just like her. She loved Sam. Yet she couldn’t deny dark and ugly feelings that colored that love. Anger. Hate. Plain frustration over his incapability to understand life.
She was kneeling on the floor, trying to clean off sticky puddle of Sam’s blood before it soaked in to the wood permanently when she heard the sound of the truck’s engine. Angry roar as it started, then steady purr. She bolted to the window. She could see Sam driving past the stable. Was he leaving? Taking the truck? How the hell did he think she and Logan were going to get by without the truck? She was about to run outside, after the retreating vehicle when she saw Logan turning on the trolley and waving his hand towards the truck as goodbye. What the hell was going on? She discarded the rag she had been mopping the floor with. It landed to the bucket with wet splash, coloring the water in there almost dark red.
“Where did he go?” Logan turned from his task of digging grave, shoved the shovel to the ground and went to trolley.
“I gave him some money and told him to go and get that water pump and hose from the settlement.” He started to go through pile of body parts, dragging biggest of them down to ground. His mouth was set to thin, almost white line, eyes narrowed.
“You gave him money and our truck! Are you insane?” Logan glanced at her briefly from the corner of his eye, then started dragging something that reminded distantly a ribcage towards the grave he had dug.
“Logan! What if he’s not coming back?” Carcass landed in the grave with a squishy thud.
“He’s coming back. Don’t worry about it.”
“But… How can you be so sure? Why would he return? We haven’t done nothing much but fought with him for the whole time he has been in here.”
“I had to force him to leave. It’s a small miracle if that trip takes him even a full month,” Logan grunted, throwing yet another grimy lump to growing pile at the bottom of the grave.
“Shit. Should have dug a deeper hole. These won’t fit all in there…” He muttered, eyeing the pile disgusted grimace on his face.
“Why? Why now?” Marie asked.
“We needed a vacation. Few days more and I would have gutted him,” Logan confessed, eyes still cast to the grave.
“I’m sorry. I know I’m being an asshole and he would have needed rest, but… I can’t take it anymore. I’m up to my fucking eyebrows of his whining.”
She had to turn away and cover her mouth when Logan suddenly jumped in the grave and started stomping bloodied mess in there.
“I’m not going to dig anymore… Get the fuck down already!” She started to walk away when sound of snapping bones reached her ears.
“Marie!” Sound of his voice made her stop.
“Give me a hand?” She couldn’t suppress hysteric giggle that escaped from her lips when she turned around and walked to the trolley.
“Which one?” There were several of those among heads and unrecognizable bits and pieces of flesh.
“Very funny. Just throw that shit in here. I’ll make it fit…” Logan growled.
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