Strange Call

As the last bus came to a halt at the deserted terminal, I realized I was the only one left—no other passengers, no driver. The city felt wrong; too quiet, the air unnaturally heavy, and along the sidewalk stood rows of phone booths, relics of a past era that should no longer be in use. On the terminal wall, a hastily scrawled warning caught my eye: "If the phone rings, turn it off immediately. If you don’t… your fate will be like ours." Before I could process the message, a sharp ringing shattered the silence. One of the booths vibrated, its dim light flickering—almost beckoning me. My hands trembled as my phone, which had been dead minutes ago, suddenly lit up with an unreadable message. "Do not answer."