When I wake, it is cold. All heat has gone from my limbs, my flesh, my bones. I open my mouth to cry out, but my voice is stifled by something rotten and crumbling. Panic. Claustrophobia. My mind flees, leaving only instinct behind.
I push hard against my the bonds that hold me, feeling them crack and give. But I do not stop. I claw my way upwards, through the mould and soil until - !
Freedom! Cold air embraces me. Moonlight bathes me. I lever myself onto bony limbs, standing barely upright. Then, with the others, I leave the cemetery behind.
