We planted the seeds of our garden that morning, watering it in, and fertilising with Brahmin dung, I had rigged a door to cover the stairs so the smell wouldn't come down too much into the main living areas. Our crops soon grew into edible food, though the honey mesquite took a little longer to mature, the Barrel Cactus, Nevada Agave, and Banana Yucca all grew heartily. The potatoes and carrots came in quickly as well. What we didn't eat or could store, we sold at the co-op, and things were looking up. Another year passed and Molly was growing like our vegetables – fast!

We had built a brick fence that year with the wrecked bricks from other buildings that lay scattered around the place, and clearing up some area for more gardens, Maize was one of the major crops that we grew out in our garden. Soon there was a field of green leading up to our front door and Molly was catching up to the height of the maize stalks. She was five when I decided it was time for revenge.

Finding Cosgrove was actually easier than I thought, I asked Klamath Bob what time Cosgrove usually came around to buy his liquor of a day, and then I followed him back to his house. Molly was back at home playing happily, with orders not to let anyone in.

Cosgrove opened the door to me and I smiled as I held up Betsy. "This is for Skeet." I said, as I shot him in the chest. He fell backwards, his head hitting a table and his eyes full of surprise. It was the first time I had killed a man with a clear head, once done, I could not undo it. Not that I wanted to.

Cosgrove had taken away the only man who had truly loved me, Skeet had kicked his Chem habit with me, he'd taken care of me during my drying-out and pregnancy, he'd provided for us by fixing up our little home and working to make our lives better while I raised a daughter who wasn't even his, and this piece of shit had taken him away, all for an argument over the weight–price of the produce that they had been growing.

I moved quickly through his house. Whiskey, vodka, beer and wine bottles littered the carpet, there was a 9mm pistol in his room, some food in his kitchen and clothes in his cupboard. There were some magazines and pre-war books in good condition as well. I grabbed those as I had been teaching Molly to read I moved quickly, gathering whatever else of value I could find. It brought me back to my days as a Fiend, raiding and scavenging for sit to sell, taking the clothes of someone that we'd killed to sell, and spending the caps on the chems that would keep us high.

I hurried to the Crimson Caravan Company and sold the things I didn't need, and bought some supplies, I didn't want to run the risk of anyone in Westside recognising anything from Cosgrove's house. It was nearing dark when I returned home. I noticed patches of something dark coming up the pathway between the rows of Maize, and I dropped the crate of supplies when I saw a bloody handprint in the fading light against the doorframe. I fumbled for the key and pulled Betsy. "Molly!" I cried when I flung open the door.

She as all right, she was sitting at the table, playing with her toys.

"Hi mummy!" she said happily, and went back to playing. I looked around the room and saw him in the corner. The trail of blood leading up to him was still fresh. The Legion soldier held his hand against his side, his hands covered in the crimson of blood, nearly matching his armour. He looked at me, breathing heavily with the pain. I had just killed a man, and fate dropped another onto my lap. I gathered Molly and took her into the back room where we slept.

"Where did he come from baby?" I asked her.

"He came and he knocked on the door and asked for help mummy, he said he was hurt real bad, I said my mummy can help you but we gotta wait till she comes back from town." Molly continued to play with her teddy, all innocence and kindness.

I kissed her beautiful cheek as she asked "Can you help him mummy? He's my friend, we played tea party and he read me a story, but then he said he got too tired and sat down on the floor." I thought for a moment.

This man was dangerous, and my daughter had let him into our house. But I was not such a cold-hearted bitch that I wouldn't help someone if they had asked for it, and from my daughter's accounts, he had. It was something Skeet had taught me, and it had obviously rubbed off on Molly. Kindness is freely given, no-one owes you kindness and there is not enough of it in the world of today. Skeet had been a big believer in Karma, it was one of the reasons that he had brought me back from the brink of returning to the self-destruction of Chem addiction in my darkest hours.

I nodded, "Ok, but I want you to stay here for me, and I'll bring you in some dinner shortly." I left molly and closed the door curtain behind me. I moved past the soldier quickly and fixed some Cram and Blamco mac 'n' cheese for Molly. He watched me the entire time; his weapon was right beside his hands. With molly fed, I turned my attention to him. I kicked away his pistol and held Betsy towards his head. He looked at me with a mixture of fear and contempt.

"If I find out you have molested my daughter, I will make you wish that you had never been born. And if you ever touch her, I will hang you from your ankles from the top floor of this building until your die, got it?" he nodded weakly. I moved Molly's bed out from the back room and helped him onto it, keeping him in a sitting position I stripped his crimson armour from him. His wounds were obvious.

Three shots, one to the shoulder, another in his left leg and one to the side. The side wound, thankfully was only a grazing cut, no bullet had caught in the flesh, but the shoulder was another matter, as was his leg. The bullet in his leg had missed any major arteries or else he would have bled out by now

I boiled some water and proceeded to wipe away the blood, I wasn't the greatest nurse in the world but I had helped patch some of the Fiends when I was in my more lucid states from the Chem use. I moved to the bathroom and got the doctor's bag and some med-x and a couple of stimpacks. When he saw me take the meds from the bag, he raised a hand, "No, no meds, none of that filth." He said weakly.

"This will hurt like a motherfucker, are you sure?" I asked, as I picked up the forceps and tweezers and put them into the boiling water to sterilise them

"No meds." He said, wincing as I wiped away fresh blood. I returned to the bathroom and collected some clean cloths to use as padding for the bandages. I frowned, "You need them." I said, as I pushed the needle of the med-x into his flesh and let the meds flow into his body.

I poured a shot of whiskey, "Don't give me that, woman, I refuse to drink it." He said angrily, I smiled, "Not for you, for me." And I downed the shot in one hit. With my bit of Dutch courage, I began to probe for the offending bullets. I saw the curtain twitch and realised that Molly was watching. "Come here, baby." I said to her. "It's all right, we have to get these bullets out of the man so he can get better." I handed her a plate. "You hold this, and I'll get the bullets out." She nodded, she seemed eager to help.

I worked on the man, opening the wound a little more with the forceps and finding the bullet in his shoulder quickly. Through torn flesh it had settled just before his shoulder blade. It took a few tries, but I finally pulled the bullet and placed it on the plate that Molly held for me. I packed a healing poultice into his wound and took up a needle and thread, which had been soaking in a glass of whiskey and began to stitch him up. Through it all, he had only groaned once, the med-x had done its job. I bound his shoulder with padding and bandages and then went to work on his leg.

That bullet proved to be a nasty piece of work, he would walk with a limp for the rest of his life, but I at least managed to save him. I ended up pulling pieces of shattered bullet from his leg, there were several fragments and I had to pour water into the wound to check for any more. I was finally satisfied when I had nine fragments of the bullet on the late next to the one from his shoulder. I cleaned his wound and packed it with more poultice and stitched it up with the remaining thread.