But Their Ordeal Was Only Beginning
Static hissed through the radio. A faint, distant voice finally broke through: “Rescue team en route… estimated arrival: three hours.” Elias Turner lowered the transmitter slowly. Three hours might as well have been a lifetime when you were adrift in the middle of an unforgiving sea. The waves were growing restless, nudging the damaged seaplane like a toy.
“We won’t stay afloat that long,” Elias murmured, watching the horizon shift as the current pulled them farther off course. “We’re drifting faster than I thought. We need to get this under control.” He studied the trembling compass needle, then turned to his co-pilot. “Ravi, any chance we can repair the rudder? If we can even partially free it, we might keep ourselves steady.”
Ravi didn’t know—but hesitation wasn’t an option. He squeezed past the emergency equipment, climbing into the cramped aft compartment where the rudder mechanism lay jammed behind panels and tangled cables. Metal clanged as he worked, muttering updates over his shoulder. “Something’s bent… I can’t see how bad yet.” Elias remained in the cockpit, forcing himself to stay calm, though every new swell slapped the floats harder. He scanned the empty waters in every direction, hoping to spot a rescue vessel… or at the very least, another aircraft overhead.
He saw nothing. But then, the unthinkable happened.
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