BILLIE JEAN ( eddie munson.. ) ✔

018. It's a Matter of Time..

Phil Callahan's tower of cards had frown undisturbed standing six levels tall and thriving under the soft rhythm of Elvis playing on the oldest radio station they caught in Hawkins and by far, his all time favorite. Those sappy love songs would never get old, he was sure of it. Flo had gone home, pressured by his care for the woman, and he was left all alone, waiting for any signs from the new chief, his forever partner, and the part of the station he took with him at Lover's Lake. The lines have been silent for hours on end but Phil did not think much into it.

If Cal needed him, he would have called, so until then, his only clear task and order was to make sure he stays behind and keeps watch of the section. Extra shifts were not unlike him. Few actually knew the ever the stupidly passionate Phil whose grades had always bordered failure in the past, was actually in love with his job. He'd rather work full time then have to go back home to his empty house where the only one able to answer to his jokes is the man in the mirror.

The emergency telephone buzzed and rang, cackling on Flo's table.

"Duty calls," Phil jokingly snickered laughter out of him while carefully distancing himself from the table with the card castle. He moved painfully slow in comparison to the alert ringing. He didn't want to have all his work go to waste there, he spent hours on building that masterpiece.

He managed to get past the table slow enough to not bump into its corners and not move the air masses too much either. Finally, on the very last ring, he picked Flo's phone up and pressed it to his ear, "Hawkins Police Department."

"This is Martin Sattler from the construction company."

"Martin," Phil's smile widened, forgetting he was, in fact, at work and not receiving a call from a friend. "How are you doing buddy? Construction goes well near the Quarry I assume? Please tell me you've got no incidents there."

"Well, that's exactly it," Martin's voice muttered, frightened. "An accident is about to happen."

Phil may have been dumb enough to think he could catch up with a friend on this phone, but he wasn't stupid enough to not take the tone of his voice seriously. "What are you talking about?"

"The Carter boy is going to jump."

"The Carter boy? Which one?"

"Does it matter?!" Martin exclaimed. "Just get here, damn it, I don't know how to stop him, he's not even answering me. I doubt he can hear me. I think he took something."

Phil looked around, at the empty station. "I'll dispatch a team," he vowed. "Stay put and don't let him out of your eyes." The phone call ended and he was left with a single thought while he reached for the portable station: please don't have it be the youngest.

"Come in," he spoke into the buzzing station next, "this is Officer Phil Callahan. We've got a suicide call at the Quarry. Sattler called, it's a Carter boy. Does anyone copy? Over."

Static noise answered him. He repeated the message, knowing it might take his colleagues a while to answer after the tragedy at the lake. But static noise kept being the only answer for five minutes. Phil knew he was wasting precious time, so he sighed, at last, putting the station back.

"Guess I am the team tonight." He glanced at the time: midnight. He grasped two bundles of keys and finally, he closed the station to open his car. The very same radio station was waiting to continue playing for him in the car, with the reminder of the Elvis hour.

"Police is on its way, son," Martin returned to the edge of the cliff where, on the very last step, Devin Carter was probably unaware another breeze might tip him off the edge and throw him into a 200 feet drop.