The cafeteria on base now only provided two basic, small meals a day to non-army staff, plain and a bit tasteless, no snacks and no extras. The food was enough to prevent starvation, but left stomachs rumbling. To prevent an uprising of angry civilians thanks to this change, they had made these meals only cost a minimal of points. A litre bottle of water was still free once a day to each person. Of course this was not just about the amount of food grown, a lot of vegetables produced edible leaves, tomatoes and potatoes amongst others did have high yields, these were things they were learning and would be aware of more in the future. Things were not desperate at this stage and hopefully things would not get so as long as they continued to adapt and learn. However if dependency on the army's cafeteria and greenhouses continued over long, no one would want to cook and fend for themselves.

There was still those who grumbled, after all, there was no gas and not enough electrics for people to use to cook their own foods with. A small bakers shop had recently opened, but they only sold a hundred rolls of bread a day and they were not cheap at all.

Others were more entrepreneurial and opened foot stalls in the market place and would serve roasted potatoes and other root vegetables or soups with varying contents. They'd purchased charcoal from a survivor who happened to work in this old occupation before the end and used barbecues to cook upon or nest food within. In autumn, a couple of stalls sold blackberries, crab apples and other wild fruit. It was obvious that these had come from outside and had been washed in the rain, at first, people dare not risk them, but when it came known that squads had eaten these outside, they let down their guard. They'd still wash them in boiling water first though. At this time, the scent of unsweetened roasting chestnuts filled the air.

The five men and one woman had guardedly transported their produce to the market place; thieves still roamed hidden amongst the civilians on base, becoming more of a nuisance since the food rules had changed and they were outsiders, most likely a rich irresistible pie for them. Of course, they wouldn't allow themselves to be so easily eaten.

On base, there were two types of shops; the army-run shops in the main compound, which dealt with produce and spoils obtained via the base farms, hens and their own squads as well as the fees from other squads (though they never really asked for too much and were reasonable in what they did take). Then there was the market that the civilians set up themselves. Each stall's rent was a small ten points a day. These were collected by a man who'd founded this 'official' marketplace. Originally, it was all a free-for-all, people would set up a stall by laying a blanket on the ground. But there was little law and order, the soldiers focused mostly on the wall and by the time someone was free to sort through the remnants of the brawl, all parties involved likely would have left the area with the loot and points. Any losing their wares or victims who'd been defrauded could only lament and hope that the bastards were eventually caught and charged. Truthfully, this never happened too much, especially when the army brought in the punishments for theft and such, but one or two still pushed the boundaries more than once.

So this opportunistic man had joined forces with a small squad who, by themselves, were no longer strong enough to face the increasing threats outside of the base and formed a 'protection' area and rented out their collection of folding tables and wallpaper pasting tables to form this market place. As the cost was not extortionate and the 'protected' zone not encompassing living accommodations, the army turned a blind eye. In fact, no one was forced to pay the fee, but if they didn't, they were seriously on their own if problems occurred.

Dexter still had a few points left from their last visit, but even if he hadn't, the manager would have accepted a couple of apples instead. They'd priced the fruit at five points, the same as the ones in the greengrocer's shop, which was a little dearer than those crabapples sold on the stall a few down from them. However, their apples were larger and sweeter which was enough to attract eyes. They freely told people that they were grown themselves and were not wild, many were also interested in the snack-packs of dried apples. These were priced the same as a whole apple, but they definitely did not contain a whole apple, likely just half. Nonetheless, these would keep longer, perhaps into the cold months when there was a considerable lack of fruit or even some vegetables.

Some people expressed interest in the oil and butter, but on learning their origins, the majority of people turned away. One woman, who gave her name as Justine, was a little more open about the products and purchased one bottle of oil and one small jar of the butter. "I happen to know a couple of the researchers on base," she advised them. "If these can pass their checks then people will be less wary about buying them."

Actually, unbeknownst to them, this woman could be considered a 'higher up', just that she was a civilian representative and not everyone knew of her as she liked keeping a low profile. Still, she did not tell a lie. She was interested in the fact that these came from a mutant apple tree and were tried and tested by these people. If more mutant products were found to be safe for human consumption, would that not ease a little of the worries regarding food longterm. It had taken a while for the people to accept wild food from outside, despite having eaten such in the cafeteria for months unawares. Perhaps it was time to introduce a stamp of approval after their researchers, who'd formally been teachers or science students for the most part with just one woman who's research actually lie in cosmetics, tested these and proved them safe.

As the day stretched on, Autumn and Dexter spoke about leaving the stall to look for condiments; sugar, salt and spices. A man, who'd been glancing at the apples in interest glanced upwards at that. "Are you interested in just the old powdered stuff or would you also buy it fresh?" The man asked, interrupting their conversation without apology.

"What do you mean?"

"I grew a fair sized crop of ginger this year," he replied, stroking back the small amount of hair upon his balding head. He did not look that old, but his genes had seen him gain a receding hairline as soon as his youth faded. He also had a bit of a beer gut that did not wish to vanish despite the end being one of the highest contributors to weight loss. "I wondered if you'd be up to purchasing it or even trading it would be alright."

Autumn's eyes lit up brightly. "You know how to grow ginger?"

"Yeah, this and other spices," he admitted. Before the apocalypse, he'd been an office worker and spice enthusiast, which had eventually involved growing what he could fresh. But as many, he hurried here with the clothes on his back and a carrier bag filled with dried foods that were not a burden to carry and had left his precious spice plants behind. Thanks to his hobby, he was able to find work in the greenhouse section, helping to cultivate herbs, peppers and chillis. However, he although he was grateful overall, the lack of spices in the cafeteria food did leave him wanting.

Luckily, early last summer, he happened upon a returning squad who'd raided a small Indian grocery store. At that time, civilian groups gave up not only a portion of food in taxes, the army had first chance to purchase 75% of the remaining in exchange for points. The squad had to turn over a lot and amongst that which remained, there were things they weren't optimistic about selling or trading on. The man had purchased a good amount of ginger root and even more turmeric root fairly cheap. With some effort, he managed to acquire clean soil and a couple of pots and planted those rhizomes in his small room situated in a shared house.

"When the ginger filled the pot, I sold more than half of it on for a good deal of points," a smile appeared on his round face in memory. Those points had been enough to see that he had plenty of warm blankets and could help with the household charcoal needs over the winter. In all honesty, he'd been a fairly lazy man back in the years before, doing the minimal of work in the office to get by, his small hobby only required effort here and there and the rest of the time, he could just enjoy the fruits of his labour. Seeing as he'd managed so well selling the ginger, he'd hoped to grow more of this and the slower, less abundant turmeric root. Not only this, he'd managed to harvest a few mustard and cilantro seeds, also known as coriander, on the sly, adding to this the purchased chilli pepper plant and his now half of his room was an abundance of green. Only...

"Since the cafeteria pared back what they were prepared to offer, they then weren't up for purchasing much of the ginger or other spices," he complained. The plainness of the fair, which was mostly a potash style stew, ratatouille (if it could be called that as it lacked the added sweetness of sugar and sourness of vinegar) or a watery mash potato, was disheartening to him. He couldn't imagine how the soldiers felt with this on offer three times a day with the occasional bread roll and egg he'd heard they could get as well! "Apparently, not everyone is good with spices, so they use only a bit of herbs for flavour. At least that's their excuse." A foodie could never understand the logic...

"I'm interested!" Autumn blurted out, before glancing at Dexter and the others who simply grinned.

"You're the boss in that department!" Was the general consensus. They negotiated for a good half of an hour and where the man provided coriander, mustard seed, turmeric and ginger, they traded with both apples and a good percentage of their earned points. These points were meant to be spent on spices amongst other things, so they did not feel that they had lost anything.

Before Cole and Chang Min followed to make the trade, Dexter made the man an additional offer. "Do you want to come to our base to live and grow spices?"

The man did seriously think about it for a moment, but then shook his head. He was still a lazy man at heart and seeing the bodies of these younger men with most being broad and well muscled and the other two while slimmer, were definitely not unhealthy nor out of shape, he felt that being amongst them might seriously mean more work for him and besides... "While I had thoughts of just lazing around and growing spices in my room," he voiced his reasons for refusal, "this place ain't so bad. I get on well with my housemates and so long as everyone brings something for the pot, the kid downstairs will cook a decent meal for us all. He's particularly good at making curry style foods and spicy noodle soups."

There were knowing smiles and Autumn gave him a bottle of oil suggesting that the boy try using it in his cooking for a hint of something extra. The man accepted it as he felt Autumn was a kindred spirit when it came to food, so he also mentioned, since she was looking for spices, that all she need do is dry out and ground red peppers to make paprika. The flavour and heat of the paprika depended on the flavour and heat of the peppers. Autumn thanked him once more, appreciating his gesture.

After this, only a couple of familiar faces purchased the apple oil; these were Rhodes' men. The remaining apples sold out quickly as well. They packed up early and discussed whether it was worth looking for salt, black pepper and sugar before heading home. But before that, Autumn met two familiar eyes and decided to take a detour.

"Brooke..."

Author's note; I'm not trying to say that the base is worsening their treatment of every day people nor that they will force them to suffer and starve, but that people need to start doing a bit more for themselves. Otherwise they might as well be automatons, never striving forward to make their lives a bit better through their own efforts, just grinding away, eating and sleeping... so the army is reducing things to sheer basics for survival and forcing people to think how they wish to live. At least, that is my intention! Of course, Dexter and the others might see things from a different point of view, being outsiders, but as the spice-man stated, things really aren't that bad here.