Chapter 163: 163
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Arabic, is it Arabic?
The man obviously couldn't understand, and rummaged around, but he didn't have any clue. He could only start calling, but he couldn't remember the phone number. ?? Eight? One Chinese? W ㈧ W? W?. (I) 8? 1? Z? W. COM flipped through his pockets, the wallet was emptied and nothing was left; besides, there were only a pile of peanut shells, a medicine bottle and a small flask.
After taking a deep breath, the man dialed "911", "Hello, 911." The call was connected, and a female operator's voice came.
"Hello, I'm buried alive." The man breathed like a cow, breathless, and even before he could stop, he eagerly started calling for help, "Please, help me, I'm going to be out of breath. ."
"Sir?" The operator seemed confused.
"I'm buried alive in a coffin, come and save me! Send someone to find me!" The man held the phone tightly in his right hand, and the lighter in his left hand, placed it on his chest, looking at it with unsteady eyes. With the faint light of fire, the fingers could not help but began to tighten, as if they were holding their own lifeline tightly.
"Sir, slow down. What's your name?"
"Paul, Paul Conroy."
"Okay, Mr. Conroy, can you tell me where you are now?"
Paul closed his eyes in pain, "I don't know." His voice was horribly hoarse, and his sight was wandering around in a panic, but he couldn't find a focal point. "I'm in the coffin! I don't know where. Please. Please, save me, I'm so scared."
"Are you in the coffin?"
"Yes." Paul felt that he was about to breathe, as if an invisible hand was pinching his throat. The suffocation made his face swell, and he didn't even have much confidence in speaking. Old-fashioned wooden coffin."
"Are you in the funeral home?"
"No, no," Paul repeatedly denied, but he couldn't help being a little confused, because he was not sure where he was at all, "I don't know, no."
"How did you call me now?" The operator didn't seem to understand the situation, and still asked unhurriedly.
Paul is almost suffocated, his brain has completely fallen into chaos, "What?"
"If you were buried alive in a coffin, how did you call me?" The operator repeated his question.
"Uh... mobile phone, there is an old mobile phone here." Paul involuntarily posted it up, trying to find a gap so that he could breathe a little fresh air.
"Do you use your own cell phone to make a call?"
"Yes. No, no, it's not my mobile phone. But yes, I use my mobile phone to make a call." Paul's brain has become a mess, and all reactions rely solely on instinct/energy. He didn't even know what he was doing, his eyes were blank and worried.
"When you climbed into the coffin, was there a cell phone there?"
"Yes." Paul nodded, but then frowned, "What? I didn't crawl in." Paul had begun to gritted his teeth because he still couldn't breathe fresh air, and the operator was wasting his time.
"Then how did you get into the coffin?"
"I was put in." Paul couldn't help clenching his hands into fists, closing his eyes, and squeezing out word by word from his teeth.
"Put it in the coffin?" The operator thought it was ridiculous.
"Yes, please, save me!" Paul was no longer able to say a complete sentence, jumping out word by word.
"You said the coffin was buried alive?" The question remained endless.
Paul raised his left hand and tried to rub his sore temple, but he was burned by the lighter, and he grinned, "Yes! I'm a truck driver, I'm an American citizen." Paul gasped heavily. , It seems that there is no way to continue, "This... it's very hot here, I can't breathe."
"Do you know your location?" The operator's voice seemed helpless.
"I... I told you somewhere in Iraq. Please, save me!" Paul has been completely incoherent. Except for "Please, save me", his brain is blank.
"Iraq?"
"Yes, I'm a truck driver, I'm an American citizen, and I work for cRT." Paul's brain is finally working again, quickly said.
"Are you a soldier?" The operator's question made Paul furious, and he shouted, "No! Please, don't you listen to me? I'm a truck driver, I'm an American citizen, I It was a contractor working in Iraq. They were attacked in Bakuba. They... they were all killed." The coherent words were suddenly cut off, and Paul was breathing heavily, as if his heartbeat caused a short period of time. Suffocation.
At this moment, he suddenly realized that he was the only survivor and all his colleagues had been shot. The sudden loss and loss made him fall into silence.
"Who was killed?"
The operator's question brought Paul back to reality again, "All other drivers." Paul couldn't help but laugh, the unreal sense of absurdity invaded, and the corners of his mouth could not help but bring a hint of ridicule.
"You said all these things were born in Iraq? That country?"
Paul chuckled. The sadness was too real and too urgent. It became a huge irony, "Yes, please listen to me, okay? Listen to me!" Paul narrowed his smile. Said earnestly, "The military gave me a security number and put it in my wallet, but I can't find it now."
The operator reluctantly interrupted Paul's words, "Mr. Conroy, this is the police station in Youngstown, Ohio."
The sudden ups and downs of his chest suddenly slowed down, as if time and space had condensed, "Ohio?" Paul was stunned, and the movements of all his muscles stopped in place.
"Yes, sir." The operator finally recovered smoothly. "You said you are in another country. I don't know how you got here. If you want, I can transfer you to the sheriff's office. ."
"You don't understand, forget it." Paul shook his head, immediately hung up the phone, and looked at the battery-there were only three cells left, which is not good news.
Gavin has a ridiculous feeling of joy, as if Paul's call "911" for help was a wrong choice, because the operator did not help at all, the endless questions were never asked on the idea, and the broken conversation was never To really figure out the problem, this not only wasted the battery of the mobile phone, but also wasted the oxygen in the coffin. What's more ridiculous is that in the end, Paul found that "911" could not solve the problem at all.
Gavin knew that this was not the operator’s fault, but he still couldn't help but start to worry. After wasting the opportunity, how should Paul save himself? On the land of Iraq, how should other people come to save Paul. That kind of suspense suddenly jumped up, Gavin could feel the adrenaline burst, and he could not help but adjust his sitting posture. Then he realized that his muscles were tight for too long, so that his body began to numb, but he was terrified and fearful. Still stuck in his throat, making him unable to look away.
Paul turned off the lighter again. This time he didn't panic, but calmed down and reorganized his thoughts. Then he ignited the lighter again and started dialing the phone number.
He first called his wife, Linda, home and cell phone. Unfortunately, Linda didn’t answer the phone. He could only leave a message in the voice mailbox to explain his crisis. I hope Linda heard the message. You can ask for help quickly; then you dialed the "411" directory, hoping to find the FBI's phone number, but the operator reluctantly asked Paul to designate a specific state and city. In a rage, he casually said "Chicago" After that, the call was transferred to the FBI in Chicago, and he explained the situation.
"The convoy of other drivers and I were transporting kitchen supplies to a community center. Then some children threw rocks at our truck. Then a bomb exploded in front, blowing up one of the trucks. Then a group of people moved from the house next to it. I rushed out and shot us on the street... I was behind the convoy, I guess a stone hit my head and fainted, I don’t remember what happened after that, when I woke up , My hands were tied and I was lying in a coffin."
Paul did his best to explain the situation, but the agent who answered the phone was always entangled in the details, why the children throw stones, who was the shot, why did those who shoot, and why did Paul not get shot? ...The aggressive tone was as if Paul was a member of the terrorists. He called just to mess with him, and even started investigating Paul's personal identity and background information.
Angry, calm, angry, calm.
Paul's emotions are always suffering, and to make matters worse, the mobile phone has no signal! The phone has lost connection! Paul held his breath and began to press against the wall of the coffin, looking for the signal everywhere, searching the past bit by bit, and finally found the signal. After thinking about it, he dialed his company's phone. The operator was again After a hard struggle, I introduced myself, explained the situation, explained the crisis management, and asked for details. At the end of the entanglement, the other party was transferred to the personnel director Alan Davenport-she didn’t care about Paul’s protest at all. What he needs now is not Personnel Supervisor~www.novelhall.com~ is crisis management!
But the call was transferred, and then there was a wait... a long wait... an endless wait, and finally the call was recorded. The cycle repeated again, and Paul explained all the situation again, but before the situation was finished, the recording was chopped off.
Looking at the phone with the busy tone, Paul was angry and completely angry, "Grass! Grass! Grass!" He punched and kicked frantically, exhausting his anger with all his strength, in an endless darkness. In the middle of the game, he vented all his emotions angrily until he was exhausted, and then lay dazedly on the spot, calm and calm... even the sound of breathing seemed to be small.
Helplessness, except helplessness or helplessness, the deep sense of powerlessness spread through the endless darkness of the screen, which is even more terrifying than despair, because I grasped the rope of hope and thought with my heart. Follow this rope to get out of the predicament, but repeat the same situation time and time again, from 911 to the FBI to the company, even to his family, every institution and every object shut him out. Going around or spinning around in the same place, the shock of being pinched when hope just rises, is really too magnificent.
Gavin thinks this is too cruel and too ironic. The weight of the heart slowly permeated through the horror and fear.
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Arabic, is it Arabic?
The man obviously couldn't understand, and rummaged around, but he didn't have any clue. He could only start calling, but he couldn't remember the phone number. ?? Eight? One Chinese? W ㈧ W? W?. (I) 8? 1? Z? W. COM flipped through his pockets, the wallet was emptied and nothing was left; besides, there were only a pile of peanut shells, a medicine bottle and a small flask.
After taking a deep breath, the man dialed "911", "Hello, 911." The call was connected, and a female operator's voice came.
"Hello, I'm buried alive." The man breathed like a cow, breathless, and even before he could stop, he eagerly started calling for help, "Please, help me, I'm going to be out of breath. ."
"Sir?" The operator seemed confused.
"I'm buried alive in a coffin, come and save me! Send someone to find me!" The man held the phone tightly in his right hand, and the lighter in his left hand, placed it on his chest, looking at it with unsteady eyes. With the faint light of fire, the fingers could not help but began to tighten, as if they were holding their own lifeline tightly.
"Sir, slow down. What's your name?"
"Paul, Paul Conroy."
"Okay, Mr. Conroy, can you tell me where you are now?"
Paul closed his eyes in pain, "I don't know." His voice was horribly hoarse, and his sight was wandering around in a panic, but he couldn't find a focal point. "I'm in the coffin! I don't know where. Please. Please, save me, I'm so scared."
"Are you in the coffin?"
"Yes." Paul felt that he was about to breathe, as if an invisible hand was pinching his throat. The suffocation made his face swell, and he didn't even have much confidence in speaking. Old-fashioned wooden coffin."
"Are you in the funeral home?"
"No, no," Paul repeatedly denied, but he couldn't help being a little confused, because he was not sure where he was at all, "I don't know, no."
"How did you call me now?" The operator didn't seem to understand the situation, and still asked unhurriedly.
Paul is almost suffocated, his brain has completely fallen into chaos, "What?"
"If you were buried alive in a coffin, how did you call me?" The operator repeated his question.
"Uh... mobile phone, there is an old mobile phone here." Paul involuntarily posted it up, trying to find a gap so that he could breathe a little fresh air.
"Do you use your own cell phone to make a call?"
"Yes. No, no, it's not my mobile phone. But yes, I use my mobile phone to make a call." Paul's brain has become a mess, and all reactions rely solely on instinct/energy. He didn't even know what he was doing, his eyes were blank and worried.
"When you climbed into the coffin, was there a cell phone there?"
"Yes." Paul nodded, but then frowned, "What? I didn't crawl in." Paul had begun to gritted his teeth because he still couldn't breathe fresh air, and the operator was wasting his time.
"Then how did you get into the coffin?"
"I was put in." Paul couldn't help clenching his hands into fists, closing his eyes, and squeezing out word by word from his teeth.
"Put it in the coffin?" The operator thought it was ridiculous.
"Yes, please, save me!" Paul was no longer able to say a complete sentence, jumping out word by word.
"You said the coffin was buried alive?" The question remained endless.
Paul raised his left hand and tried to rub his sore temple, but he was burned by the lighter, and he grinned, "Yes! I'm a truck driver, I'm an American citizen." Paul gasped heavily. , It seems that there is no way to continue, "This... it's very hot here, I can't breathe."
"Do you know your location?" The operator's voice seemed helpless.
"I... I told you somewhere in Iraq. Please, save me!" Paul has been completely incoherent. Except for "Please, save me", his brain is blank.
"Iraq?"
"Yes, I'm a truck driver, I'm an American citizen, and I work for cRT." Paul's brain is finally working again, quickly said.
"Are you a soldier?" The operator's question made Paul furious, and he shouted, "No! Please, don't you listen to me? I'm a truck driver, I'm an American citizen, I It was a contractor working in Iraq. They were attacked in Bakuba. They... they were all killed." The coherent words were suddenly cut off, and Paul was breathing heavily, as if his heartbeat caused a short period of time. Suffocation.
At this moment, he suddenly realized that he was the only survivor and all his colleagues had been shot. The sudden loss and loss made him fall into silence.
"Who was killed?"
The operator's question brought Paul back to reality again, "All other drivers." Paul couldn't help but laugh, the unreal sense of absurdity invaded, and the corners of his mouth could not help but bring a hint of ridicule.
"You said all these things were born in Iraq? That country?"
Paul chuckled. The sadness was too real and too urgent. It became a huge irony, "Yes, please listen to me, okay? Listen to me!" Paul narrowed his smile. Said earnestly, "The military gave me a security number and put it in my wallet, but I can't find it now."
The operator reluctantly interrupted Paul's words, "Mr. Conroy, this is the police station in Youngstown, Ohio."
The sudden ups and downs of his chest suddenly slowed down, as if time and space had condensed, "Ohio?" Paul was stunned, and the movements of all his muscles stopped in place.
"Yes, sir." The operator finally recovered smoothly. "You said you are in another country. I don't know how you got here. If you want, I can transfer you to the sheriff's office. ."
"You don't understand, forget it." Paul shook his head, immediately hung up the phone, and looked at the battery-there were only three cells left, which is not good news.
Gavin has a ridiculous feeling of joy, as if Paul's call "911" for help was a wrong choice, because the operator did not help at all, the endless questions were never asked on the idea, and the broken conversation was never To really figure out the problem, this not only wasted the battery of the mobile phone, but also wasted the oxygen in the coffin. What's more ridiculous is that in the end, Paul found that "911" could not solve the problem at all.
Gavin knew that this was not the operator’s fault, but he still couldn't help but start to worry. After wasting the opportunity, how should Paul save himself? On the land of Iraq, how should other people come to save Paul. That kind of suspense suddenly jumped up, Gavin could feel the adrenaline burst, and he could not help but adjust his sitting posture. Then he realized that his muscles were tight for too long, so that his body began to numb, but he was terrified and fearful. Still stuck in his throat, making him unable to look away.
Paul turned off the lighter again. This time he didn't panic, but calmed down and reorganized his thoughts. Then he ignited the lighter again and started dialing the phone number.
He first called his wife, Linda, home and cell phone. Unfortunately, Linda didn’t answer the phone. He could only leave a message in the voice mailbox to explain his crisis. I hope Linda heard the message. You can ask for help quickly; then you dialed the "411" directory, hoping to find the FBI's phone number, but the operator reluctantly asked Paul to designate a specific state and city. In a rage, he casually said "Chicago" After that, the call was transferred to the FBI in Chicago, and he explained the situation.
"The convoy of other drivers and I were transporting kitchen supplies to a community center. Then some children threw rocks at our truck. Then a bomb exploded in front, blowing up one of the trucks. Then a group of people moved from the house next to it. I rushed out and shot us on the street... I was behind the convoy, I guess a stone hit my head and fainted, I don’t remember what happened after that, when I woke up , My hands were tied and I was lying in a coffin."
Paul did his best to explain the situation, but the agent who answered the phone was always entangled in the details, why the children throw stones, who was the shot, why did those who shoot, and why did Paul not get shot? ...The aggressive tone was as if Paul was a member of the terrorists. He called just to mess with him, and even started investigating Paul's personal identity and background information.
Angry, calm, angry, calm.
Paul's emotions are always suffering, and to make matters worse, the mobile phone has no signal! The phone has lost connection! Paul held his breath and began to press against the wall of the coffin, looking for the signal everywhere, searching the past bit by bit, and finally found the signal. After thinking about it, he dialed his company's phone. The operator was again After a hard struggle, I introduced myself, explained the situation, explained the crisis management, and asked for details. At the end of the entanglement, the other party was transferred to the personnel director Alan Davenport-she didn’t care about Paul’s protest at all. What he needs now is not Personnel Supervisor~www.novelhall.com~ is crisis management!
But the call was transferred, and then there was a wait... a long wait... an endless wait, and finally the call was recorded. The cycle repeated again, and Paul explained all the situation again, but before the situation was finished, the recording was chopped off.
Looking at the phone with the busy tone, Paul was angry and completely angry, "Grass! Grass! Grass!" He punched and kicked frantically, exhausting his anger with all his strength, in an endless darkness. In the middle of the game, he vented all his emotions angrily until he was exhausted, and then lay dazedly on the spot, calm and calm... even the sound of breathing seemed to be small.
Helplessness, except helplessness or helplessness, the deep sense of powerlessness spread through the endless darkness of the screen, which is even more terrifying than despair, because I grasped the rope of hope and thought with my heart. Follow this rope to get out of the predicament, but repeat the same situation time and time again, from 911 to the FBI to the company, even to his family, every institution and every object shut him out. Going around or spinning around in the same place, the shock of being pinched when hope just rises, is really too magnificent.
Gavin thinks this is too cruel and too ironic. The weight of the heart slowly permeated through the horror and fear.
Arabic, is it Arabic?The man obviously couldn't understand, and rummaged around, but he didn't have any clue. He could only start calling, but he couldn't remember the phone number. ?? Eight? One Chinese? W W? W?. I 8? 1? Z? W. COM flipped through his pockets, the wallet was emptied and nothing was left; besides, there were only a pile of peanut shells, a medicine bottle and a small flask.After taking a deep breath, the man dialed "911", "Hello, 911." The call was connected, and a female operator's voice came."Hello, I'm buried alive." The man breathed like a cow, breathless, and even before he could stop, he eagerly started calling for help, "Please, help me, I'm going to be out of breath. .""Sir?" The operator seemed confused."I'm buried alive in a coffin, come and save me! Send someone to find me!" The man held the phone tightly in his right hand, and the lighter in his left hand, placed it on his chest, looking at it with unsteady eyes. With the faint light of fire, the fingers could not help but began to tighten, as if they were holding their own lifeline tightly."Sir, slow down. What's your name?""Paul, Paul Conroy.""Okay, Mr. Conroy, can you tell me where you are now?"Paul closed his eyes in pain, "I don't know." His voice was horribly hoarse, and his sight was wandering around in a panic, but he couldn't find a focal point. "I'm in the coffin! I don't know where. Please. Please, save me, I'm so scared.""Are you in the coffin?""Yes." Paul felt that he was about to breathe, as if an invisible hand was pinching his throat. The suffocation made his face swell, and he didn't even have much confidence in speaking. Old-fashioned wooden coffin.""Are you in the funeral home?""No, no," Paul repeatedly denied, but he couldn't help being a little confused, because he was not sure where he was at all, "I don't know, no.""How did you call me now?" The operator didn't seem to understand the situation, and still asked unhurriedly.Paul is almost suffocated, his brain has completely fallen into chaos, "What?""If you were buried alive in a coffin, how did you call me?" The operator repeated his question."Uh... mobile phone, there is an old mobile phone here." Paul involuntarily posted it up, trying to find a gap so that he could breathe a little fresh air."Do you use your own cell phone to make a call?""Yes. No, no, it's not my mobile phone. But yes, I use my mobile phone to make a call." Paul's brain has become a mess, and all reactions rely solely on instinct/energy. He didn't even know what he was doing, his eyes were blank and worried."When you climbed into the coffin, was there a cell phone there?""Yes." Paul nodded, but then frowned, "What? I didn't crawl in." Paul had begun to gritted his teeth because he still couldn't breathe fresh air, and the operator was wasting his time."Then how did you get into the coffin?""I was put in." Paul couldn't help clenching his hands into fists, closing his eyes, and squeezing out word by word from his teeth."Put it in the coffin?" The operator thought it was ridiculous."Yes, please, save me!" Paul was no longer able to say a complete sentence, jumping out word by word."You said the coffin was buried alive?" The question remained endless.Paul raised his left hand and tried to rub his sore temple, but he was burned by the lighter, and he grinned, "Yes! I'm a truck driver, I'm an American citizen." Paul gasped heavily. , It seems that there is no way to continue, "This... it's very hot here, I can't breathe.""Do you know your location?" The operator's voice seemed helpless."I... I told you somewhere in Iraq. Please, save me!" Paul has been completely incoherent. Except for "Please, save me", his brain is blank."Iraq?""Yes, I'm a truck driver, I'm an American citizen, and I work for cRT." Paul's brain is finally working again, quickly said."Are you a soldier?" The operator's question made Paul furious, and he shouted, "No! Please, don't you listen to me? I'm a truck driver, I'm an American citizen, I It was a contractor working in Iraq. They were attacked in Bakuba. They... they were all killed." The coherent words were suddenly cut off, and Paul was breathing heavily, as if his heartbeat caused a short period of time. Suffocation.At this moment, he suddenly realized that he was the only survivor and all his colleagues had been shot. The sudden loss and loss made him fall into silence."Who was killed?"The operator's question brought Paul back to reality again, "All other drivers." Paul couldn't help but laugh, the unreal sense of absurdity invaded, and the corners of his mouth could not help but bring a hint of ridicule."You said all these things were born in Iraq? That country?"Paul chuckled. The sadness was too real and too urgent. It became a huge irony, "Yes, please listen to me, okay? Listen to me!" Paul narrowed his smile. Said earnestly, "The military gave me a security number and put it in my wallet, but I can't find it now."The operator reluctantly interrupted Paul's words, "Mr. Conroy, this is the police station in Youngstown, Ohio."The sudden ups and downs of his chest suddenly slowed down, as if time and space had condensed, "Ohio?" Paul was stunned, and the movements of all his muscles stopped in place."Yes, sir." The operator finally recovered smoothly. "You said you are in another country. I don't know how you got here. If you want, I can transfer you to the sheriff's office. .""You don't understand, forget it." Paul shook his head, immediately hung up the phone, and looked at the battery-there were only three cells left, which is not good news.Gavin has a ridiculous feeling of joy, as if Paul's call "911" for help was a wrong choice, because the operator did not help at all, the endless questions were never asked on the idea, and the broken conversation was never To really figure out the problem, this not only wasted the battery of the mobile phone, but also wasted the oxygen in the coffin. What's more ridiculous is that in the end, Paul found that "911" could not solve the problem at all.Gavin knew that this was not the operator's fault, but he still couldn't help but start to worry. After wasting the opportunity, how should Paul save himself? On the land of Iraq, how should other people come to save Paul. That kind of suspense suddenly jumped up, Gavin could feel the adrenaline burst, and he could not help but adjust his sitting posture. Then he realized that his muscles were tight for too long, so that his body began to numb, but he was terrified and fearful. Still stuck in his throat, making him unable to look away.Paul turned off the lighter again. This time he didn't panic, but calmed down and reorganized his thoughts. Then he ignited the lighter again and started dialing the phone number.He first called his wife, Linda, home and cell phone. Unfortunately, Linda didn't answer the phone. He could only leave a message in the voice mailbox to explain his crisis. I hope Linda heard the message. You can ask for help quickly; then you dialed the "411" directory, hoping to find the FBI's phone number, but the operator reluctantly asked Paul to designate a specific state and city. In a rage, he casually said "Chicago" After that, the call was transferred to the FBI in Chicago, and he explained the situation."The convoy of other drivers and I were transporting kitchen supplies to a community center. Then some children threw rocks at our truck. Then a bomb exploded in front, blowing up one of the trucks. Then a group of people moved from the house next to it. I rushed out and shot us on the street... I was behind the convoy, I guess a stone hit my head and fainted, I don't remember what happened after that, when I woke up , My hands were tied and I was lying in a coffin."Paul did his best to explain the situation, but the agent who answered the phone was always entangled in the details, why the children throw stones, who was the shot, why did those who shoot, and why did Paul not get shot? ...The aggressive tone was as if Paul was a member of the terrorists. He called just to mess with him, and even started investigating Paul's personal identity and background information.Angry, calm, angry, calm.Paul's emotions are always suffering, and to make matters worse, the mobile phone has no signal! The phone has lost connection! Paul held his breath and began to press against the wall of the coffin, looking for the signal everywhere, searching the past bit by bit, and finally found the signal. After thinking about it, he dialed his company's phone. The operator was again After a hard struggle, I introduced myself, explained the situation, explained the crisis management, and asked for details. At the end of the entanglement, the other party was transferred to the personnel director Alan Davenport-she didn't care about Paul's protest at all. What he needs now is not Personnel Supervisor~www.novelhall.com~ is crisis management!But the call was transferred, and then there was a wait... a long wait... an endless wait, and finally the call was recorded. The cycle repeated again, and Paul explained all the situation again, but before the situation was finished, the recording was chopped off.Looking at the phone with the busy tone, Paul was angry and completely angry, "Grass! Grass! Grass!" He punched and kicked frantically, exhausting his anger with all his strength, in an endless darkness. In the middle of the game, he vented all his emotions angrily until he was exhausted, and then lay dazedly on the spot, calm and calm... even the sound of breathing seemed to be small.Helplessness, except helplessness or helplessness, the deep sense of powerlessness spread through the endless darkness of the screen, which is even more terrifying than despair, because I grasped the rope of hope and thought with my heart. Follow this rope to get out of the predicament, but repeat the same situation time and time again, from 911 to the FBI to the company, even to his family, every institution and every object shut him out. Going around or spinning around in the same place, the shock of being pinched when hope just rises, is really too magnificent.Gavin thinks this is too cruel and too ironic. The weight of the heart slowly permeated through the horror and fear.
