Ern and Hoyle had been getting paid on the regular and had money to burn. Also, money to protect. A week into their new employ, Ern had started to think that keeping the cash in their lockers wasn’t a particularly wise plan. All of their neighbors and coworkers were career criminals, exactly the kind of people you’d expect to grow curious and sticky fingers.
As per Ern’s original plan, they’d been stuffing the folding money into the lining of their helmets. There was plenty of room, still, and it gave them an extra measure of security, but still, with all the work they were doing they weren’t in their rooms very often.
He’d been fretting about it for a week now, batting ideas back and forth with Hoyle, until they finally settled on a plan to buy a couple small lock boxes and fill them with some decoy cash so that nobody would get the idea to look in their helmets.
Ern and Hoyle hadn’t been out of the compound since their first descent on the day of the riots, but that night they poked their heads out to go get some food one or two grades above the caféteria’s normal sludge.
Phil had said at lunch that things were getting “hot” topside. If anything, he had been understating matter.
CARE officers with guns were on every street. Everyone was in transit suits—if there were slugs out and about, they were passing under helmets. CARE wasn’t taking chances. Clear acrylic Kleen-Air Shelter Kits were set up every block or two, and inside always a naked citizen being examined by CARE officers in minute detail. They were pulling people off the street at random and stripping them to check for signs of sluggishness.
Ern shrank from them out of habit, but Hoyle steadied his arm.
“Just act normal, Ern. They’re not looking for us.”
“How do you know?”
“It’s a slug check. They used to do them all the time, back during the transition.”
“Where’d you hear about that?”
“Around,” Hoyle demurred.
“And if they’ve still got a watch notice out for us?”
“I’ll get us out. For Nast’s sake, just act normal so they won’t pick us out.”