Hollywood: The Greatest Showman

Chapter 164: Claustrophobia

Chapter 164: Claustrophobia

Pouring the alcohol from the small jug into his mouth, Paul forced himself to calm down once again. He opened the call log on his phone, found the first number—the one that had called him first—and excitedly recorded the number, then made a note beside it, "Help." However, hesitating for a moment, he added a question mark after "Help," then eagerly dialed back.

The one who picked up was the kidnapper.

He thought Paul was a soldier, thought he was an employee of a security company. They had gunned down everyone in the convoy. Paul had to explain the situation, which briefly confused the other party. Then they demanded ransom, five million. Before nine o'clock in the evening, pay five million, and then they would release Paul.

After hanging up the phone, Paul listlessly picked up a pen and forcefully crossed out the words "Help?" Then he slowly turned around, lying in place, his eyes revealing a sense of bewilderment. The faint blue light cast shadows of dirt and sweat on his face, his bewildered confusion seeming to gradually turn numb and stiff.

Chanel felt anger, an uncontrollable anger—Paul was buried alive under the soil, in imminent danger, yet 911 refused to help him, the FBI began to question him, and the company remained unresponsive. What's even more ridiculous is that the kidnappers had got the wrong person. They tried to kill soldiers and security guards to warn America, but what they got was just an ordinary person, a plain truck driver, someone forgotten by his own country, society, and government.

At this moment, Paul seemed like everyone else in American society, paying the price for the White House's greed and lies, but now the White House refused to help them, leaving them abandoned in the desolate desert.

Coming back to his senses, Paul began his long journey of self-rescue again. He searched for the number through the phone, found a friend he shared with Linda, Donna, and tried to find Linda through her. But Donna was completely unaware of the severity of the situation, even accusing Paul of being too rude and hanging up directly. Paul had to call again, pleading lowly, until Donna found the State Department's phone number.

After dialing the number, it was the same old routine, repeating over and over again, and then repeating all the circumstances again. Only then did they transfer to the corresponding department, where Rebecca Browning answered the phone. But to Paul's surprise, the other party already had a preliminary understanding of his situation. Upon further inquiry, Paul learned that the company's HR manager, Allen Davenport, had contacted the relevant departments—but they had no response, leaving Paul stranded and waiting to die, which made Paul feel deeply betrayed.

After asking for detailed information, Rebecca stated that according to U.S. national policy, they wouldn't negotiate with terrorists. Paul couldn't hold back anymore, "Don't talk about U.S. national policy, ma'am, please. You're sitting in an air-conditioned office, it's easy for you to say that. You're not the one being left to die in the middle of the desert."

"We understand your sense of frustration..."

"Frustration?" Paul roared, the towering anger burst through the dim light of the phone, each word clear and distinct, "Ma'am, I'm about to die here! Do you know that?" The emotional outburst still didn't elicit any response, there was only a dead silence on the other end of the phone, which made Paul's eyes moisten involuntarily. He was like a trapped beast in a desperate situation, searching for any shred of hope, then recklessly rushing forward, hurting everything around him, including himself.

"Hello, are you still there?" Paul closed his eyes, hiding the moisture in his eyes, his voice regaining calmness, but with a deep sense of powerlessness and exhaustion, as if despair was pulling the strings behind, hindering his efforts to move towards hope. After receiving a response from Rebecca, Paul gently said in a hoarse voice, "Then say something, tell me how you're going to rescue me."

But because Paul didn't know the number on his phone, they had to re-identify the signal and locate it, which added to the difficulty of their rescue. In a short time, they were also helpless; so, following Rebecca's instructions, Paul contacted the local hostage rescue team leader in Iraq, Dan Brenner.

Dan quickly instructed Paul on some survival techniques, then learned some basic information, but before they could communicate further, the kidnappers called again, urging Paul to pay up quickly. They demanded Paul to record a kidnapping video, there was a cloth bag at Paul's feet with a note inside, instructing him to record the video according to the instructions on the note. Paul argued, stating that he was just an ordinary truck driver, and finally, the kidnappers compromised, reducing the ransom from five million to one million.

After hanging up the phone, Paul tried to reach for the bag, but the limited space made it impossible. He had to curl up his whole body, attempting to turn in a direction, but the narrow space barely wider than his shoulders made it difficult. In his desperation, Paul compressed himself to the extreme, even hearing the creaking sound of the wooden boards, as if they were about to crush him.

Chanel suddenly jumped in fright, realizing it was Tessa sitting next to her who had grabbed her left hand. Too nervous, Tessa's hands clasped tightly around Chanel's left hand, trembling all over. But Chanel didn't have time to pay attention to this; she turned her head back to the big screen, watching Paul's body curled up like a spring, as if with a little more force, his neck, his spine would be broken directly. The cruelty and bloodiness made Chanel bite her lip, a taste of blood spreading in her mouth.

Subconsciously, Chanel also clenched Tessa's hands tightly. The heartbeat had lost sensation, the fear of confinement burst through the big screen at this moment, smashing down fiercely, leaving no one exempt. Now, the only belief supporting Chanel was—Paul was the protagonist, perhaps the only protagonist, the director wouldn't let him die, right? In Hollywood movies, the protagonist always survives. Chanel silently crossed her fingers, praying inwardly.

In the bag were two glow sticks, a flashlight, a dagger, and a note.

Paul once again tried to reach his wife, Linda, but there was still no answer from home or her phone. The sense of powerlessness, Paul had even ceased to be angry. He immediately dialed Dan's number again, reporting the kidnapper's phone number, hoping they could catch the kidnappers and then trace back to rescue him.

Dan repeatedly reminded Paul not to shoot a kidnapping video, not to escalate it into an international incident. Paul, filled with deep resentment, vented, "I've been here for nine months, I know, all you care about is your secret plans and behind-the-scenes politics. If I were a diplomat, if I were in charge of the hostage rescue team like you, I would have been rescued long ago. But I'm not, I can only lie here, quietly waiting to die."

Faced with Paul's questioning and complaints, Dan had to persuade and reassure him, but Paul had already lost confidence. He demanded Dan to say a name, the name of someone who had been kidnapped before and successfully rescued. "Mark White," was the name Dan provided. This slightly calmed Paul down.

However, before he could calm down completely, within less than ten seconds, the kidnappers' call once again shattered the tranquility. They urged Paul to record a kidnapping video, and although Paul tried to argue, they didn't give him a chance to explain and simply hung up. This triggered Paul's anxiety, almost suffocating him. The impulse to smash everything out of frustration made him start self-harming again, and only after mixing some pills from the bottle with alcohol did he finally find some relief.

After taking the pills, Paul entered an unprecedented state of calmness. He began calling the nursing home where his mother resided, but his mother, suffering from dementia, couldn't remember clearly. She still treated Paul like a child, rambling on about playing cards with his father every night. This mundane and somewhat boring exchange plunged Paul into complete despair.

Even as he clenched his lip, tears continued to stream down his face, as if the tears were choking his throat, burning.

Gavin gritted his teeth, his emotions raging, because that way, tears wouldn't fall; the loneliness, helplessness, desolation, and despair swirled in Paul's eyes—his home phone still just played the recording, his wife's phone still unanswered, and now even his mother was slowly forgetting him. He was abandoned in a barren land, quietly waiting to die. The tangled and surging emotions didn't erupt outwardly, but settled down slowly, the bitterness almost driving Gavin to collapse.

But before the tears could slide down his chin, the phone rang again, abruptly halting his emotions. It was the kidnappers once again.

Paul refused to answer the call, setting the ringtone to vibrate, and after waiting for a while, his emotions slightly calmed down. Only then did he answer the call, but it had already been hung up. The kidnappers sent a video, causing Paul's thumb to tremble slightly, and his pupils to start shaking.

Hesitating for a moment, he pressed the confirmation button.

In the video, a woman knelt on the ground, a cloth gag in her mouth, her head held at gunpoint. Fear filled her eyes, hanging by a thread.

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