"Alright!" Benny said. "Time to cast your votes on who will be the first to stay the night in the tomb." He pulled out a cardboard box and his pocket knife. "While I'm cutting, you write down your vote. But we need volunteers for the election." Several show-offy boys, including the one that came up with the dare, raised their hands. "So," Benny said, "the candidates are you, you, you, you, and... Camille?" Camille, who was the scardey-cat of the bunch, had raised her hand, surprising the whole group. She blushed. "Yes," Camille said,"I want this over with." Benny looked weirded out, but he agreed. " Done!" he announced. One by one, everyone cast their ballots. After counting them, Benny looked a little worried and announced the winner, or loser, depending on their point of veiw. "Camille, looks like your going first," he said. Camille looked relieved and freaked out at the same time. "Let's go," she said meekly.

The group got to the house and escorted Camille to the tomb. "We'll come and pick you up in the morning," Benny said. Camille nodded and Benny could see she was scared silly. "You don't have to go first, ya know," he told her. "Yes, I do," she replied. " It was voted, remember?" Benny attempted a smile. He didn't know why he was so worried anyway. It was just one night and every single one of the things in there would be dead except Camille. The whole group said good bye to her and left. Benny lingered a little as Camille entered the tomb. Then he turned and ran home.

Benny's dream: Camille was running and running. Benny was trying to warn her but no sound came out. It kept going for what seemed like hours. Then, suddenly, Camille fell. A bloodcurdling scream broke into Benny's nightmare. He could have sworn it was Camille's. His heart beat faster as he raced to put on his robe and ran out the door with bare feet. When he got the tomb behind the old birch house, he opened the door revealing nothing. No Camille. She was gone. "What the hell!?!" he said. He could fell hysteria creeping over him. This was NOT good. Where! Was! Camille! If there was one thing he knew, it was that he was totally screwed.

"Benny?" A voice from near the edge of the tomb spoke. A figure slumped against the exterior of the Old Birch Tomb, shrouded by a dark, ragged cloth. The figure stood and took a few long steps towards Benny, occasionally stopping to ask. When the figure finally drew close to Benny, a long arm moved up and brushed away the hood.

"Benny, thank Oden, man." Roland grunted, pulling the wool blanket snugly over his shoulders again. "I was starting to wonder when someone else was gonna show up. Camille went into the tomb, and I hadn't heard nothing for hours." The headbanger shrugged sheepishly. "I got up to go take a piss, and I just got back when you came up. What's goin' on, man?"

"Camille's gone, Roland," Benny replied. "She disappeared."

"Hello?" Camille called. "Any one there? Helloooo!" It had been at least half an hour since she'd fallen through the floor of the tomb, and she didn't think things could get much creepier. When she had looked up to see if she could get back, there was no hole in the ceiling. It was as if there was a trap door there, and Mr. Birch wasn't dead. But he was. She heard a twig snap behind her and spun on the balls of her feet to find nothing... No one. Camille gave a little shiver as she spun back around. Suddenly, a hand clamped over her mouth and dragged her off into the darkness.

"Gone?" Roland's voice carried a bit too loudly through the graveyard. Hushing his voice, the metal-head repeated: "Gone?"

He raised his hands in exasperation and scowled harshly. "Dammit." He grunted. "I just knew this was gonna be a bad idea from the start." He paced for a few moments, his wool blanket scratching the dead leaves lining the front of the tomb. After he finished pacing, he turned, pleadingly, towards Benny. "We gotta go after her, man. She could be hurt down there."

"I agree completely, Roland," Benny said. "Meet me back here soon with what ever you think you might need. Bring a crowbar."