Read Online Deadfall by Robert Liparulo - Free Book Online Page A

in silence, but efficiently. In forty minutes they had erected the tents, built a fire pit, gathered kindling, and hung the food from a high branch away from foraging animals.
    Phil headed for the naturally refrigerated river, a case of beer in hand. As he descended the slope, he opened a can.
    â€œWe heard that!” David called. He had draped his earbuds over his shoulders.
    â€œHear this,” Phil answered, but no sound followed, thankfully.
    Hutch knelt before the pit and wedged a thick branch into the rocks so it angled up over the center. He dug into a nylon sack, removed a well-used teakettle, and hung it off the tip of the branch.
    Phil came huffing back up the slope. “I’m not looking forward to those freeze-dried meals,” he said.
    â€œI think you’ll be surprised,” David said.
    â€œMan, even that crap’s good eating for me these days.” Terry shook his head sadly. “Used to eat at Elway’s twice a week.”
    â€œOh yeah, they got good grub,” Phil agreed. “Pricey, but man . . .”
    Terry smiled. “The valets knew my Jag. They’d run in to tell the maître d’ I’d arrived before I’d even get to them. I tipped them a twenty and they’d keep the car right there, outside the door. The bankruptcy trustee wouldn’t let me keep that car, too much equity. I don’t think Elway’s would keep the car I’m driving now right out front.”
    â€œCould be worse,” Phil said. “Look at me .”
    Terry gave him a dismissive wave. “Buy an exercise bike.You’ll be fine.”
    â€œI don’t have a job, ” Phil reminded him. He pulled off his glasses and began cleaning them with his shirttail. “I’m in debt up to my eyeballs. Fat and broke. Does it get any worse?”
    â€œLighten up,” Hutch said. He returned to the loose tree stump he had found earlier to sit on. “Who said, ‘Where there’s life, there’s hope’?”
    â€œTerence,” David answered.
    He had turned Hutch into a quotation geek back in fifth grade. It drove the other two batty.
    â€œTerry?” Phil said, an unsure smile on his face.
    â€œThe ancient Roman playwright.”
    â€œYeah, but you know the kind of plays he wrote?” Hutch asked.
    David nodded, knowingly.
    â€œComedies,” answered Hutch. “He never wrote a tragedy or drama. You can’t quote a comedian to make a serious point about life. May’s well quote George Carlin at your mother’s funeral.”
    David ignored him. “How about ‘All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players,’ or ‘Love all, trust a few, do wrong to none.’ Profound, right? Probably close to the way things really are.” He raised his eyebrows at Hutch, looked to Terry and Phil. “Shakespeare—from his comedies .”
    Terry jabbed a finger at him. “I got one for you: ‘The ability to quote is a serviceable substitute for wit.’”
    Everyone laughed.
    David said, “Okay, okay, I’ve heard that before but I just can’t remember . . .”
    Hutch rubbed the stubble on his chin. “So who is it?”
    Phil dug into another duffel and produced a collapsible canvas chair. Hutch had asked him to leave it home, but Phil said life was too short to do without some things. Besides, he had purchased it from Cabela’s, which proved the thing’s camp-worthiness. He unfolded it and eased down. The aluminum frame groaned. He said, “Hutch, didn’t you interview George Carlin?”
    â€œNah, that was Dane Cook, before he got big and before I started focusing on locals.”
    Twice a week Hutch profiled people who exemplified the spirit of Colorado. Housewives, entrepreneurs, celebrities, ranchers, farmers, average Joes. The only criteria were residency; an achievement illustrating tenacity, resilience, or the prevailing over great