The Brightest Night (Origin #3) - Jennifer L. Armentrout Page 0,37

war. Across the grassy median, behind a row of palms, was a shopping center.

Stores stacked on top of one another, most of the signs having long since fallen away or eroded to the point where only letters instead of words were legible. There’d been a nail salon once, kitty-corner to a liquor store. All that remained of the urgent care was the blue cross above shuttered double doors. Larger stores still clearly branded. The red letters of a now very useless electronics store were visible next to one of the pet store chains, and in their parking lots were dozens of stalls and people milling about, all under rolling canopies colored red, blue, and yellow.

“This is the market,” I stated, donning my Captain Obvious hat. Now I knew where all those cars had been the afternoon before.

“Yep.” Zoe was grinning at my wide-eyed face. I couldn’t help it. There were so many people.

Hundreds of them.

And as I stood there, too far away to see faces or eye colors, instinct was flaring alive in me, telling me what I couldn’t see but I could sense. Humans, lots of humans, and among them but not many were brighter … life forces. Luxen.

Life forces?

What in the hell kind of thought was that?

“This is how Zone 3 stays alive,” Zoe was saying, yanking me from my thoughts. “Well, one of the ways. Food is traded here, along with supplies and other stuff. Actually, lots of random stuff. Last time I was here, someone was trading stuffed animals—you know, not the real stuffed animals, but the kind kids play with.”

Blinking, I refocused on Zoe. “How? With money?”

“There’s no need for money.” She tugged on my arm, pulling me into the empty street. “Come on.”

Confused by the prospect of there being no need for money, I asked, “Then how do people buy the things here?”

“Labor can be traded for food. Like if someone needs repairs on the house or help working one of the crops. Some people trade goods, but there is no currency,” Zoe explained as we crossed the street, entering the market where the cement had cracked and little white-and-purple flowers had begun to grow. She kept her arm looped with mine. “And they make sure no one goes hungry, even if they are too old to barter with labor or have nothing of value to trade. That’s what today is. On Wednesdays, the food is free to those approved to enter, and they can take as much as they need.”

“And there’s enough food for that?”

Zoe nodded. “It’s kind of amazing how much work can be done and the amount of food that can be grown when you’re not sitting inside watching TV or messing around on social media.”

“Or when your next meal actually depends on you getting out there and growing something,” I added.

“That, too.” Zoe squeezed my arm as she stopped. “In a way, Zone 3 was lucky. A lot of farmers refused to leave during the evacuations. Their farms were their entire livelihood, and they couldn’t just uproot and start over. So, there were people who knew the land and how to ensure an abundance of all kinds of crops. And those who were moved here have all been willing to learn.”

“And the food and the stuff here is really free for those who need it?”

“All the necessities are,” Zoe answered as I spotted a short, scruffy white-haired dog burst out from under one of the stalls, rushing to greet a group of people who’d stopped a few feet from the table. The little puppy yipped happily as it went from person to person, collecting pats and scratches.

“It hasn’t always been easy,” she continued. “Crops took a pretty bad hit during a drought last year, and along with a very hot summer, it was … hard. Not enough cool places to hold those most at risk for heat-related illnesses.” She took a ragged breath. “There used to be more who needed assistance.”

“That’s sad,” I whispered.

“But they didn’t lose anyone this summer—not from the heat, at least.”

Scanning what seemed like an endless procession of brightly colored stalls, I soaked in the sights and smells, but I was a little dumbfounded by it all. Who could really blame me? Having always existed in a world where nothing was free and where people were shamed for needing assistance, no matter how badly they needed help, this was entirely unexpected.

The people here had found a system that worked for everyone. Obviously, it was a much