The formidable MH-47 Chinook military helicopter thundered through the air, its powerful rotors spinning with an incredible force as it approached the looming mountain ridge. The chopper's rotors cut through the dense remnants of fog like colossal, relentless blades, generating a booming, rumbling sound akin to that of a mechanical beast primed for destruction, seemingly ready to annihilate anything that lay in its path. Below, the search team's spotlight cast a bright beam that illuminated a circle of jagged, cracked rocks, dramatically highlighting the scene like a stage set for an intense performance brimming with tension. Within this illuminated circle stood ten survivors, their faces pale and stricken with fear, juxtaposed against the glow of red flares still smoldering on the stony ground, offering a stark reminder of their precarious situation. The relentless wind generated by the helicopter's rotors kicked up clouds of dust and fine mountain sand, mirroring a mini sandstorm that swirled chaotically around them. It whipped through the air like a living entity, causing the gnarled obsidian trees lining the precipice to sway violently, as though the ancient spirits watching over this rugged terrain were enraged by this incursion of modern machinery. The low, humming vibrations emanating from the stones in the circle of light intertwined with the vibrations of the helicopter's rotors, two powerful forces colliding in the humid, tropical air, together creating an atmosphere thick with tension and dread.
As the helicopter hovered steadily, maintaining an altitude of approximately twenty meters above the mountain ridge, its side door swung open with a resounding bang. Thick, heavy evacuation ropes tumbled down from the opening with precision, accompanied by metallic safety ropes and carabiner clips that gleamed in the searchlight—a sight that inspired flickering hope amidst the surrounding chaos. Two skilled search and rescue (SAR) pilots, clad in full combat gear, waved fervently and shouted signals to the trapped survivors, urging them to "get in quickly!" The sound of megaphones filled the darkening sky, booming commands like thunder: "Bravo Team! Four out of four! The seriously injured are the priority! Bad weather in ten minutes!" Realizing the urgency of their perilous situation, the team moved swiftly, knowing time was their greatest adversary. Despite being buffeted by the fierce winds generated by the helicopter, Bima had to be carried with extreme effort by his teammates, Fauzan and Sari. He was in dire shape, a festering wound on his chest still oozing fresh blood, while his labored breathing sounded like a fragile thread about to snap under pressure. The rope dangling from the helicopter swung perilously like an angry serpent battling against the raging storm.
Rizal, gripping one of the carabiners firmly, raised his voice to cut through the cacophony created by the roaring rotors, as though he were not only addressing his team but also confronting the very mountain whose depths had turned hostile. "Prioritize the injured! Bima, Fahri, and Sari need to be lifted first—Fauzan, you lift him! Amira, Dito, follow after them! Tono, Maya, prepare your weapons towards the ravine—the mountain spirits might interfere! Rangga, Hasan, stand guard behind me! Move fast—bad weather is coming!" He meticulously clipped the carabiner onto Bima's harness, slowly hoisting him upward despite the fierce rotor winds that seemed to conspire against them, threatening to unleash them into the gaping maw of the ravine below.
Fauzan characterized his struggle as a desperate battle against all odds, striving to lift Bima, whose own carabiner was now affixed to his chest. His shouts were urgent against the roaring winds, "Hang on, Bima, bro! You've saved us so many times!" Bima could only respond with weak moans, his eyes flickering open and closed, "Fau... blood... mountain... remember...," but the rope was already pulling them gradually toward the helicopter's welcoming door, where strong SAR hands reached out to grab them forcefully, shouting, "One safe! Three more!"
Sari supported the delirious Fahri, who murmured incoherently of "Shadows... eyes... home...," anxiety cleaving her heart. Tears streamed down her face, mingling with sweat, as the third carabiner was attached with steady hands. "Fahri, can you hear the helicopter? We're going home!" Fahri's barely audible reply trembled, "Meeting... point... they see...," but he was safely pulled inside soon thereafter, quickly followed by Amira and Dito, both of whom snapped the fourth rope into place. Suddenly, Dito's radio crackled to life with urgency, "Signal stable—main rescue in thirty minutes!"
Tono and Maya made their ascent next, with Maya's bow slung securely across her back, her sharp eagle-like eyes scanning the swirling fog in the ravine that rose in great waves of ominous energy. "Riz, the fog is moving strangely—the spirits seem to reject the presence of this helicopter!" she called out, noting the unease. Hasan, preparing for what lay ahead, clipped on the seventh carabiner and reloaded his old but dependable pistol, his voice steady and experienced as he offered a quiet warning, "Let's climb quickly—the back of this mountain could crack again at any moment!"
Rangga attached the eighth carabiner, feeling the warmth of the bone pendant around his neck, which infused him with hope and protection from the chilling sounds of the vibrations surrounding them. "The old spirits are retreating—they are allowing us to leave for now. Riz, it's your last turn now," he urged, his gaze somber yet resolute. Rizal nodded, his heartbeat quickening as he clipped the ninth carabiner, but suddenly, the mountain let out a terrifying rumble, the crack in its back widening ominously, sending a cascade of sand and small rocks tumbling down into the ravine, causing the obsidian trees to sway dangerously as their roots threatened to break free under the strain of the chaotic forces at play.
"The ridge is collapsing! Pull fast!" shouted Rizal, urgency seeping into his voice as he fought to steady himself. The ropes began to swing violently, buffeted by the gusty winds that intertwined with the icy mist rising from the chasm beneath them. Inside the helicopter, the SAR team rang in panic, "Hold on! Bad weather is coming!" But the rising fog surged forth like a towering tsunami of ash, curling around Rizal's legs and attempting to draw him with it into the vast abyss below, a sinister hiss rising from the mist as it whispered ominously, "Disturb... stay... mine!"
In a moment of bravery, Rangga leaped from the helicopter door to grip Rizal's rope, stabbing at the encroaching fog with his knife, shouting, "Hold on! It's just a spirit trying to scare you!" Hasan, unwilling to let their teammate fall victim to the mountain's malice, fired shots at the fog, the bullets vanishing into the swirling darkness, yet a faint scream reverberated ominously around them. Fauzan struggled to pull the rope taut from inside the helicopter. "Riz, get in quick, damn it, this mountain!" he shouted desperately.
Yet, the crack in the mountain's spine widened dangerously, reaching out toward the obsidian tree that quivered, finally succumbing to gravity and toppling slowly into the ravine, its roots entwined with the helicopter's rope, pulling it sideways with a roar that drowned out all other sound. The pilot's voice cut through the chaos, strained and urgent, "Emergency evacuation! Release the rope!" The chopper tilted sharply at a thirty-degree angle, and the survivors screamed as they were flung around the cabin like leaves caught in a tempest.
Rizal, summoning every ounce of strength he had left, began to ascend the rope, with SAR team members grabbing hold of his arm, pulling him in just as the rope snapped beneath the strain—the obsidian tree plunged into the ravine below in a devastating landslide, shaking the earth violently and sending debris flying, the fog from the chasm consuming everything in its wake. The helicopter pulled upward rapidly and with determination, the door slamming shut behind them as the survivors collapsed onto the narrow cabin floor, gasping for breath and processing the harrowing escape.
Without a moment's pause, the SAR medical team rushed to exam Bima as they computed the seriousness of his condition. "Critical injuries—severe infection! Stabilize him immediately!" the lead medic barked, determination in his eyes. Meanwhile, the pilot's voice crackled over the intercom, "Base, Bravo is safe with ten people! We're heading back to the nearest base—bad weather is approaching quickly!"
Rizal sat in stunned silence, his gaze lost in the view beyond the helicopter's window, staring at the mountain that had just moments ago seemed so unforgiving. "We... survived this time, but this mountain will remember us forever," he muttered under his breath. Fauzan, filled with relief, embraced Sari tightly, trembling slightly. "Is Fahri stable? Can Bima still hold on?" he asked, concern etched on his face. Sari nodded through her tears, a glimmer of hope in her eyes, "Yes... we're going home."
In the corner of the cabin, Rangga remained silent, the warmth radiating from his pendant fading back to a chill. He murmured soothingly, "The meeting point has been closed. The old spirit now remains silent... for now," as if trying to find solace in a truth he could barely grasp.
As the helicopter roared away from the eerie, haunting forest, below them, the fog from the ravine continued to rise, enveloping the debris of the fallen mountain—within its depths, dark shadows with piercing black eyes peered from the cracks, hinting at a promise of vengeance still looming in the shadows of the future.
Thus was the beginning of this bloody evacuation—a harrowing tale of survival where ten lives were saved, yet equally marked were the profound traumas they would carry, truly leaving behind mysteries that the forest would hold tightly to for an unknowable time to come.
***
The MH-47 Chinook cabin shook violently like a can of sardines amid the tremors of the earthquake, struggling to withstand the brutal forces of nature as the rotors roared in overload, facing the sudden tropical storm winds that hit from the west, arriving abruptly with surprising intensity. Torrential rain with extraordinary force pounded the windows as if firing glass bullets, each drop bringing a noise that was almost deafening, while lightning flashed quickly and mercilessly in the sky, now covered in thick black clouds, enveloping the sunset that should have illuminated the day with warmth. The air inside the cabin felt stuffy, a toxic mixture of the smell of sweat, the aroma of fresh blood evaporating from Bima's wound, which had just been torn open again when he pulled the rope, coupled with the pungent medical antiseptic from the SAR team, and the sharp smell of hot metal from the helicopter struggling against the weather. The red emergency lights flashed suddenly, illuminating ten survivors huddled in fear on the narrow cabin floor, while their safety harnesses were deftly locked by the SAR crew, dressed in combat gear and soaked from the incessant rain. Amidst the chaos, the pilot in the cockpit shouted through the loud intercom, issuing an urgent warning, "The storm has entered the zone! Extreme turbulence—hold on for another 20 minutes until we reach the nearest military base! Medical personnel must prioritize the most critical injuries!" This warning heightened the tension, with Bima lying limp on a stretcher, his chest filled with painful open pus and quickly rewrapped with an antibiotic infusion to fight the life-threatening infection. His breathing was labored like a broken engine, aided by a ventilator working harder than usual, while Fahri, still half-conscious, sat on the bench next to him, his wild eyes staring out the window at the heavy rain, watching the shadow of the mountain that seemed to be getting smaller but in his memory was still chasing him. The helicopter tilted at a 45-degree angle to avoid unpredictable lightning strikes, and the survivors screamed, holding on tightly to their harnesses, their minds mixed with euphoria at being saved and deep trauma from the forest that seemed unwilling to let them go.
Rizal sat tensely in the front seat, his SS1 rifle handed over to the SAR team, his now trembling hands gripping Amira's shoulders as he stared at the cockpit with uncertainty reflecting the critical situation they faced. "Pilot, how long do you estimate it will take to get to base? How is Bima doing, is he stable? Has Fahri's fever returned?!" His voice was hoarse, trying to overcome the roar of the rotors and the fierce storm, but his tone was courageous even though it was clear that this situation was exhausting for everyone involved.
The pilot replied over the intercom in a tense tone, providing the latest information. "The military base is still 15 minutes away—we are currently experiencing peak turbulence! Medical reports indicate that Bima has late-stage sepsis. We may need to perform emergency surgery upon landing! Fahri is now being stabilized from psychosis—he is delirious, talking about 'mountain eyes'!"
As if trying to improve the situation, Sergeant Tari, the first member of the SAR medical team, immediately injected Bima with morphine while shouting, "The pus in his chest is mixed with machete poison—we have to maximize the IV antibiotics! His pulse is at 110, and his blood pressure is dropping dramatically! Fauzan, press down on the wound on his chest—don't let up the pressure!" Fauzan quickly nodded, his bloodied hands holding the bandage on Bima tightly, his eyes wet with concern, "Bro, you're strong! You saved us—hang in there during this evacuation so we can bring everyone home safely!"
Meanwhile, Sari hugged Fahri, who was now starting to ramble, "Meeting point... they saw the helicopter... back..." she whispered calmly to reassure him, "Fahri, we're safe now — the forest is a nightmare that will pass. This helicopter will take us home!" Fahri mumbled in a half-conscious state, "Shadow... come too... black eyes from the mist..." but he still held Sari's hand tightly, his fever slowly subsiding thanks to the IV drip.
Dito held the SAR radio, the blaring confirmation from base truly making the situation a little more relieved, "Bravo, everyone is safe in the evacuation—there are ten survivors, two of whom are in critical condition! We are heading to the runway on runway 1!" He shouted joyfully against the threatening storm, "Riz, we finally made it out alive! They're sending a medical team for the on-ground process!"
At the same time, Amira, wearing her harness tightly, looked out the window but remained alert to the flashes of lightning, "But this storm... it's like a mountain sending something! Did you hear the humming of the rotor mixed with the humming of the rocks earlier?!" Tono nodded with a pale face, the wet map on his lap, "The mountain peak collapsed just as we were ascending — as if the old spirits rejected the presence of modern iron!"
Maya, whose bow hung on the cabin wall, watched the strange shadows of the clouds with her eagle eyes, "Look at those clouds—they're shaped like spiral eyes, like stone carvings! Hasan—is this a natural phenomenon or...?"
Hasan, who had already handed over his gun, spoke calmly against the turbulence, "Nature is angry because we have disturbed the balance. Cult, tribe, spirits—all consequences of the blood we have spilled. The mountain: letting us go, but to remember forever."
Rangga sat silently in the corner of the cabin, his bone pendant warming slowly, his dagger still sharpened rhythmically against the helicopter's vibrations, staring coldly out the window. "The old spirits are allowing this evacuation to proceed—the meeting point will be closed temporarily. But the shadows of their eyes are riding with this storm. Base is safe, but the trauma will continue."
Suddenly, the helicopter tilted extremely—lightning struck the rotor, the cockpit instrument panel blared deafeningly, "Direct lightning strike! Engine 2 is overloaded!" The pilot shouted anxiously, "Emergency dive! Hold on!" The cabin spun slowly, survivors screamed in panic as one harness broke—Bima's stretcher shifted and hit the wall, his IV came loose and blood spurted out!
"Stabilize Bima now!" Sergeant Tari shouted, immediately hooking up Bima's IV. Fauzan pressed harder on Bima's chest, "Don't die now, damn it! This is not the time!" Rizal immediately got up, holding the stretcher steady, and shouted to the pilot, "Emergency descent! Medical personnel on the ground are ready!"
The helicopter slowly regained stability, even though the storm outside was getting worse—hail mixed with lightning, the rotors whirring at full capacity. Fahri screamed again, coming back to his senses, "Look! They're in the clouds—call them back!" Sari gently covered Fahri's ears, saying, "Be quiet, this nightmare is over!"
Dito on the radio, "Base in sight—runway lights! Five minutes to go!" The pilot prepared for a forced landing, "Everyone be careful!" The helicopter dove steeply, its wheels touching the military runway wet from heavy rain, sliding 200 meters before stopping dramatically. The cabin door opened quickly and the ground medical crew rushed in as if swept by the storm to make sure everything was done on time.
The military medical team swiftly carried Bima and Fahri's stretchers to the ambulance, "Critical sepsis — immediate surgery!" The survivors stumbled down in the heavy rain, hugging each other in their soaked clothes. Rizal looked up at the stormy sky with boundless gratitude and said, "We... are going home. Ten souls survived hell."
Fauzan hugged Rangga first, "Bro... you are our guardian." Rangga nodded silently and coldly, "This is survival. The forest will always remember us — never come back." At the military base, the area was crowded with journalists on the second helicopter, but the survivors preferred to remain silent, the trauma still evident in their eyes, their eyes still seeing shadows in the misty clouds.
That night, at the military hospital, the operation on Bima took six hours and he survived. Fahri received psychosis therapy as part of his treatment, while the others underwent secret interrogations—the story of the cursed forest became top secret. But in their dreams, the humming and the black eyes still lurked, always present in their memories.
The bloody and arduous evacuation finally concluded, with ten survivors arriving at the military base, yet the shadow of the forest remained eternal in all their souls.