C33 Nothing Useful

The line buzzed before going straight to voicemail.

“Hi, this is Annabelle… I’m looking for Jane Phildee, Jose’s sister. If this is the right number, please call me back.” She hung up, quickly dialling the next one.

The same thing happened on the next call. No answer.

Every sound of footsteps nearby made her tense, her eyes darting towards the people going about their business.

On her next try, the phone clicked, and a weary voice answered, “Hello?”

“Hi… uh, is this Jane Phildee?” Annabelle asked hopefully, fingers gripping the receiver tightly.

There was a pause, a long silence that made her breath catch. “Who’s asking?”

“My name is Annabelle. I… I don’t know if this is the right person, but I am looking for Jose’s sister, Jane Phildee. Is that you, please?”

Another pause. Then, a tired sigh. “Listen, sis, I don’t know any Jose. If a dickhead gave you my number, you have been scammed, sis. I got nothing for you.”

“I…”

The line went dead.

Annabelle stared blankly at the receiver.

A wave of hopelessness washed over her, her chest tightening with the weight of it.

The sound of laughter from a group nearby pulled her out of her thoughts.

She glanced over her shoulder, noticing some high schoolers approaching the booth in a carefree manner.

“Can I use that real quick? I need to call my mom.” One of them said.

Annabelle nodded and went out, so the boy could make his call.

Soon enough, they left and she tried again. It was picked on the first ring.

“Hello?”

“Hi… I’m trying to reach Jane Phildee. Is she there?” Annabelle asked anxiously.

“Who’s this?” the man on the other end demanded, her tone immediately harsh.

“My name’s Annabelle. I...”

“Wrong number, babe. No Jane here but you and I can....”

Annabelle quickly disconnected.

“Hello, who’s this?”

“Hi, I’m looking for Jane Phildee,” Annabelle said, a flicker of hope edging into her voice.

A long pause, followed by an annoyed sigh. “You salespeople never give up, do you?”

“No, I’m not—”

“Just leave us alone!” The voice was cold, and dismissive, cutting off before she could explain.

Annabelle closed her eyes briefly, frustration building in her chest.

She tried again. This time an older woman answered and then promptly hung up. The next number didn’t connect at all, just a dead, empty line. The following call, a gruff voice picked up, only to tell her, in colourful language, exactly where she could go.

Annabelle hung up, rubbing her temples. She could feel herself slowly unravelling. She glanced outside the booth, noticing a small line beginning to form. A man stood just outside, watching her impatiently as if to remind her that she wasn’t the only one in the world with a phone call to make.

Reluctantly, she slid open the door, mumbling an apology as she let the man take his turn. She paced outside the booth, eyes scanning the street as she hugged her arms against the coolness that came with the darkening sky.

The sun was beginning to dip, casting long shadows across the street, and Annabelle couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching her.

Her pulse quickened, a sharp pang of fear slicing through her exhaustion.

The man finished his call, stepping out with a quick nod to her, and she dove back inside.

She started dialling again. The minutes dragged, and each call met with a click, a deadline, or a curt voice that wanted nothing to do with her.

Despite the frustration, she kept on. Yet almost three hours later, she was not as close to finding Jane Phildee as she was when she started.

Apart from the constant interruptions from people who wanted to use a single payphone, the feeling of being watched increased too.

Yet every time she looked back, she couldn’t see anyone who seemed particularly interested in her.

By now, she felt exhausted. Hours had slipped by, and the world outside darkened as streetlights began to flicker on, casting a dim glow over the pavement. Finally, as she hung up the receiver on yet another dead-end call, she leaned her forehead against the booth’s scratched glass, feeling a mix of frustration and defeat.

“Nothing… nothing useful at all,” she whispered, her voice catching.

As she moved onto the street, Annabelle tightened her hoodie around her, considering her next step. A thought tugged at her.

Maybe she could risk going back to the hospital, to see if there was any information she’d missed. Perhaps someone could help her confirm if Jose had been admitted there. She’d been careful not to linger too long earlier, but maybe, just maybe, it was worth one more try.

She started walking, the streets now eerily quiet. The glow from shop signs reflected off the wet pavement, casting faint, blurry pools of colour on the ground.

As she walked, the feeling of being watched returned, sharper than before. She glanced over her shoulder, her gaze sweeping over a few passersby who barely seemed to notice her.

“You’re just tired,” she whispered to herself, willing her nerves to calm. But the sense of unease didn’t go away. The shadows seemed to grow longer, swallowing parts of the street in murky darkness.

As she moved farther from the busy part, Annabelle became increasingly aware of footsteps behind her. She quickened her pace, glancing back again. Just a couple, hand in hand, walked past her, their murmurs blending with the faint hum of distant traffic.

She forced herself to breathe, letting out a shaky laugh. “Get a grip, Annabelle,” she muttered, shaking her head.

But then, from the corner of her eye, she caught sight of a man trailing behind. He was keeping his distance but moving at a steady pace, his eyes seemingly fixed on her.

The knot of tension in her stomach tightened, and she quickened her pace, barely able to keep her breathing steady.

The footsteps followed.

Her heartbeat hammered in her ears as she turned onto a narrower street, hoping to lose him. She glanced back, but he was still there, closer now.

Panic surged, and she broke into a run, her footsteps echoing off the cold stone walls around her.

She turned sharply, her sneakers skidded a bit with her mind racing.

She soon realised she had run into an alley.

The dim streetlights barely illuminated the narrow path, walls looming high on either side. Her breath came fast, every shadow around her deepening her fear.

Then… silence.

Annabelle slowed, glancing over her shoulder.

The footsteps had stopped. She took a tentative look back, daring to hope she’d lost him. But in her nervous turn, she collided hard with someone.

She whipped her head around as the immovable figure sent her stumbling back.