Well. It's warm and dark like Howard was expecting. And dark. It's only when Howard notices that someone's breathing that he realizes someone's with him. And it's only when he jerks back to get away from whomever's in his space that he realizes the shape of the wooden crate he's pressed up against.

He's in a coffin.

The panic is sudden and overwhelming. His arms thrash out, slamming elbows into the walls of the coffin. His breath comes fast and harsh like someone after near-drowning. He pushes and shoves the person with him, not even noticing that they've said something.

Oh god, he's buried alive, just like Brittney, just like that broken sixth grader who dug her way out of her own grave with mud in her braces. And there's nothing he can do.