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| Gambar Ilustrasi |
The radio crackled—one last signal before the silence.
Ethan had been stranded for six days. The wreckage of his
small plane lay scattered across the frozen Alaskan wilderness. His emergency
beacon had failed, his supplies dwindled, and the cold gnawed at his bones like
a relentless predator.
Each day, he carved deep trenches into the snow to mark his presence—lines
that stretched into nothingness. Each night, he whispered to the stars,
fighting the crushing weight of isolation.
By the fifth day, reality blurred. His breath formed icy clouds in the air,
his fingers numbed past feeling. The hunger clawed at his stomach, yet moving
was necessary—stagnation meant death. He gathered branches, built a feeble
fire, and stared into the flickering embers, willing himself to remember
warmth.
His mind drifted. Did anyone know he was here? Would they search for
him? Every hour felt like an eternity, every gust of wind a cruel
taunt.
Then, on the seventh day, as despair threatened to consume him, he heard it.
A hum.
Faint at first, barely distinguishable from the howling wind. But then it
grew—steadier, louder, a heartbeat in the sky.
A helicopter.
Ethan staggered forward, exhaustion forgotten. He waved his arms, screaming
with every last ounce of strength. The aircraft slowed, hovered—searchlights
cutting through the dusk.
Then the radio crackled again. This time, a voice.
"We’ve got you."
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