Juliane unbuckled her apparently-indestructible airline seat belt (she was obviously paying attention when the flight attendant was going through that whole "here's how you properly fasten your safety belt" portion of the spiel) and briefly surveyed the wreckage. All she saw were corpses and empty seats. She was alone in the Amazon, with the thick canopy jungle above her preventing her from signaling for help, and effectively crotch-stomping any hope for a successful or timely rescue. Juliane Koepcke had no food, no tools, no gear, no powerbars, no means to make fire, no maps, and no compass. Shit, she only had one shoe, having lost the other one during that whole "careening through the atmosphere" thing, which I guess is understandable. It was just her and the wilderness, mano-e-womano.
Well, as I mentioned previously, Juliane Koepcke was just a young high school senior, but I should also say that she was working towards a degree in flippin' zoology at a school in Lima, Peru, so it wasn't like she was awkwardly terrified of a little bit of torrential rain or knee-deep mud or giant carnivorous predators or anything. It also didn't hurt that both of her parents were famous German biologists, either. In fact, she'd grown up living in a number of different research stations in the middle of this godforsaken jungle, so I guess I don't have to tell you that this ridiculously tough broad wasn't going to give up and start digging her own grave with a broken set of chopsticks just because she was lost and alone in one of the cruelest and most inhospitable jungles on the planet. Forget that. She wasn't going down without a fight, and she had every intention of giving this nightmarish deathzone a giant barefooted roundhouse kick right in its horrible dripping serrated mandibles. Juliane searched through the wreckage, grabbed the few pieces of candy and food that she was able to scrounge up from the debris, and started walking off into the jungle.
For eleven days (!) Juliane Koepcke trudged through the Amazon Rain Forest without any gear or food, smashing her way through the snarls of vegetation and plant life, avoiding the man-eating crocodiles she routinely encountered, and fighting off insect swarms, clouds of leeches, and other disgusting creatures of blood-sucking and/or multi-legged insanity. She drank river water, battled through infection and disease, foraged for whatever scraps of food she could get her hands on, and did a bunch of other badass Bear Grylls-types of shit just to stay alive long enough to find help.
Finally, after a week and a half of this hellish, ball-sucking death march, the semi-conscious, zombie-esque Koepcke shambled into a remote, makeshift logging camp on the edge of the rain forest. She fell down, curled up, and waited for help, which arrived the following day. The loggers gave her some very rudimentary first aid (part of which involved pouring gasoline on her to clean out her wounds, which sounds like it was probably a whole lot of fun), and took her on a seven-hour canoe trip to the nearest town, where a local pilot then flew her to the hospital for treatment. Of the 92 people on board Flight 508, this unassuming 17 year-old woman was the only one who walked out of the wilderness alive.
Of course, Juliane Koepcke wasn't done yet. She went on to get a PhD in Zoology, proving that this survivor could take the most horrible shit mother nature could throw at her and it wasn't even going to slow her down. Nowadays she studies bats in Germany or something, which is pretty sweet if you ask me. Her survival story remains one of the most badass demonstrations of human endurance that I've ever come across.
Kopcke returned to the debris-riddled crash site in 2000 to film a documentary.
She's just hard like that.