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12 years ago, the world decided to test
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my resolve. It was a normal morning in
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my small mindo village when my bed began
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to rattle uncontrollably.
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Seconds later, the chilling smash of
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glass shattered the silence. I knew
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instantly. Living in Mindo meant knowing
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the grim protocols for earthquakes and
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By the time my feet hit the floor, water
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was already rushing into my home,
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swirling around my ankles, then my
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thighs, rising with terrifying speed. A
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shard of broken glass flung by the
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tremor lodged itself in my cheek. A gush
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of red marking the beginning of the
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chaos. I pulled it out, wincing, and
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heaved open the door. Just as I did, a
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rogue wave, tiny yet powerful,
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catapulted a broken tree branch directly
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into my chest. I fell backward,
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submerged in the churning, murky water.
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Flailing, I fought for the surface,
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finally gasping for air as the water
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reached my waist. I began to swim,
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desperate to reach higher ground,
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dodging debris and jagged edges. Then, a
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deafening crash behind me. I spun around
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just in time to see a massive wave
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consume my straw house, its roof
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collapsing in on itself like a house of
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Devastation ripped through me, but there
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was no time to mourn. I had to keep
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As I swam, something dark and large
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moved in the water ahead. At first, I
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dismissed it as just another log,
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another piece of debris. Then it turned
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and I saw its eyes. My blood ran cold. A
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crocodile. A freaking crocodile right in
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the middle of my street. Panic ignited a
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primal instinct. I didn't think. I just
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swam. I pushed myself harder than ever
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before. muscles burning, lungs screaming
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for air, but it was gaining. I could
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feel its relentless pursuit closer and
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closer. This was it, I thought. This was
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how I died. Then a miracle. Out of
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nowhere, a boat appeared. I swear it was
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divine intervention. A man looking just
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as terrified as I felt threw me a rope.
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He pulled me aboard just in time. I
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collapsed onto the deck, heart pounding,
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body shaking uncontrollably.
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I don't think I've ever been so scared
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in my life or so grateful. When I
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finally caught my breath, I asked him
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about the scale of the disaster. "No
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idea," he said, his voice rough. "But
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it's happening all over town." He told
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me he'd been rescuing people all
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morning, pulling them from rooftops,
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from submerged cars. He asked if I
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wanted to help. I had nowhere else to
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go, so we did. For the next few hours,
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we plunged into the chaos, pulling
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people from the water, guiding them to
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Injured, shocked, confused.
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Everyone was in survival mode. The fear
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was palpable. A thick, suffocating
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blanket over the entire town. While we
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worked, I noticed the man, my rescuer,
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kept checking his phone obsessively. At
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first, I thought he was looking for a
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signal, updates. Then I realized it was
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something more. His wife. She was
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missing in the flood and he was
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terrified. My heart broke for him. Here
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he was risking his life for strangers
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while the person he loved most was out
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there in danger. I saw the worry etched
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on his face. And it ignited a new
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purpose within me. We'll find her, I
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promised. And so our mission expanded.
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We searched, asking every survivor if
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they'd seen her. Hope flickered in his
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eyes with every pause, only to be
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crushed by a shake of the head. It was
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an emotional roller coaster, and I was
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right there with him, feeling every
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twist and turn. Then a woman spoke up.
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She'd seen someone matching her
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description. Red jacket, long brown
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curly hair, brown purse, a gold
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necklace. His face brightened, a
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blinding beacon of hope.
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Without a second thought, he turned the
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boat, speeding towards the direction
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she'd given us. We navigated through the
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debris, and there in the distance was a
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woman who perfectly fit the description.
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He rushed forward, calling her name, but
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as she turned, his smile crumbled. Her
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face was different. The hope in his eyes
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shattered. He apologized to the shaken
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woman, then turned back to me, the grim
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resolve to save others, to find his own
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wife, hardening his gaze. Finally, after
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what felt like an eternity, we found
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A group huddled on a building, and among
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them, his wife. She was injured, a deep
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wound in her left leg, barely able to
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stand. I'll never forget the raw relief
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on his face when he saw her. Every ounce
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of fear melted away. He ran to her and
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they held each other, an embrace that
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spoke of a thousand unspoken fears and
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unwavering love. We loaded everyone onto
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the boat, heading for a shelter on
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higher ground. I was beyond exhausted,
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my body screaming, my mind a shambles.
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But even then, I couldn't rest. My own
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Where were they? The thought had been
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pushed aside, but now the fear hit me in
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full force. What if they hadn't made it?
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At the shelter, I sprinted inside,
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searching, checking every room, my heart
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sinking with each empty space.
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Just as despair threatened to consume
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me, I saw them. My husband, my kids,
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safe and sound, huddled in a corner, I
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ran to them and we collapsed into each
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other's arms, a wave of overwhelming
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relief washing over me. I held them
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tight, terrified they might disappear.
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We stayed like that, clinging to each
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But just when I thought the worst was
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over, the ground beneath us shook. A
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deep rumbling sound, then a deafening
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explosion. Everyone in the shelter
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froze. We ran outside. My heart
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plummeted again. In the distance, a
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massive fire raged through the village.
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Flames shooting into the sky. Thick
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black smoke billowing, blotting out the
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sun. The explosion had come from nearby,
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spreading fast. We couldn't just stand
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there. My rescuer, the man with the
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boat, grabbed my arm. We have to help,
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he said. There are still people out
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there. He was right. Every fiber of my
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being screamed to stay with my family to
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keep them safe, but I knew we couldn't
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sit by while others were in danger. We
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grabbed blankets, first aid kits,
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anything useful, and plunged back into
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the chaos. The tsunami had receded, but
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water was still everywhere, and the
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streets were a war zone. The fire was
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our new enemy. The heat was scorching,
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burning my skin, but we pushed on,
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determined to save as many as we could.
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We worked tirelessly, pulling people
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from burning buildings, carrying them to
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safety, battling the relentless spread
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of the flames. It was physically and
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mentally draining. Every time we thought
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we had control, another fire erupted,
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another building collapsed. And the fear
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for my own family, safe in the shelter,
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yet still vulnerable, was a constant,
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gnawing presence. At one point, we
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joined a group of firefighters,
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exhausted, sootcovered, yet fighting
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with everything they had.
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We helped direct people, contained the
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blaze, but it wasn't enough. The fire
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was too big. We were losing ground fast.
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Then hope. One of the firefighters, a
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grizzled veteran, had a plan. The fires,
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he explained, weren't from a volcano,
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but a massive gas leak, a result of the
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earthquake and tsunami. The main gas
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line, the fuel for this inferno, was
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still active. If we could shut it off,
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we could stop the spread. It was a long
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shot, our only shot. The boatman and I,
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along with a few firefighters, set off
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We navigated through the worst hit
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areas, dodging flames, debris, and the
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threat of collapsing structures. I
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honestly wasn't sure we'd make it out
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alive. We scanned the desolate
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landscape. We turned a corner, finding
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ourselves in what used to be a busy
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intersection, now a flooded wasteland.
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A firefighter shouted. We rushed over.
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He was diving beneath the water,
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pointing to a large industriallook
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valve. the gas man. A massive tangle of
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thick pipes damaged and leaking snaking
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through the ground. The source of the
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fire. Without a second to lose, the
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firefighters went to work, using every
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tool to access the valve. The boatman
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and I helped, lifting concrete and
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twisted metal, our hands blistering.
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Finally, the debris was cleared. They
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signaled for us to step back. My heart
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hammered. One firefighter took a deep
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breath, murmured a prayer, and dived
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A moment of tense silence. We could see
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his faint outline working beneath the
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water. Two agonizing minutes. Then the
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hiss of escaping gas slowed, then
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stopped altogether. "The line is shut
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off," he gasped, surfacing triumphant.
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"We did it! We actually did it!"
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The firefighters nodded, their
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expressions still serious. The immediate
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threat was gone, but much work remained,
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securing the area, helping survivors.
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I nodded. We continued. The village was
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in ruins, but for now, we had won a
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small victory. The fires were
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extinguished. The waters were slowly
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receding. The gas was gone. Entire
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blocks were reduced to ashes. Homes
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destroyed. Streets littered with debris.
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It looked post-apocalyptic.
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We were all exhausted, our clothes torn,
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faces smeared with soot, bodies covered
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in cuts and bruises. But despite it all,
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a profound sense of relief washed over
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us. We had made it through the worst,
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and we had saved lives.
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That was what mattered. Sitting on the
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remains of a hill overlooking the
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ravaged city, silence fell. Then the
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boatman turned to me, a tired smile
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gracing his lips. "We did it," he said.
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I couldn't help but smile back. Even
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with the weight of so many lost homes.
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In that moment, I realized that even
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though we had lost so much, we still had
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each other. That's when it struck me.
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I'd gone on this harrowing mission with
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him and didn't even know his name.
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"Miranda," I said, extending my hand.
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"My name is Miranda." "Tom," he replied,
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gripping my hand firmly. "I'm Tom." In
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the days that followed, the village
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began to pick up the pieces. The damage
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was extensive. Years of rebuilding lay
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ahead. But the community came together
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in a way I had never seen.
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People who had lost everything found
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comfort in each other. Those who still
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had something gave freely.
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As for me, I knew I couldn't leave this
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broken place. It had become my home. I
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couldn't turn my back on it now. Not
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after everything we'd been through.
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So, I stayed helping with the recovery
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We became close friends, working side by
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side to bring our city back to