With his wife lying next to him, his range of movement was limited. He shook her frantically and called her name with a frightened, trembling voice. “Janice! Oh God, Janice, wake up!”

Why wouldn’t she wake up? Had she been drugged? The pitch black darkness only served to deepen his unease. Considering she was nude, he feared that she may have been raped.

Dan pushed her over so he could turn a bit more. Her body only moved an inch or two. He tried pushing up on the lid again, but it remained immoveable. Something heavy must be setting on top. Something bulky like…

Six feet of solid dirt?

Dan shook his head in a rapid back and forth motion. He silently whispered the word “no” over and over again like some chanted mantra of paranoia. His mind warred with itself. One half denied the reality of his situation. The other half told him, “My God, I’ve been buried alive!”

It was the most grotesque nightmare he could envision. What kind of twisted madman would do such a monstrous thing to him and his wife? Who could hate the two of them with such intensity that it would lead to this sick, sinister act?

With every ounce of will he possessed, Dan fought to control his emotions. He battled against hysteria, trying to think things through. He leveled his breathing to a slow and steady pace. He knew his air supply was extremely limited. How long did he have?

The thought of asphyxiation sent his heart racing once more. How much oxygen remained? Without knowing how long he’d been trapped so far, there was no way to guess how much air – or time – was left. Certainly not more than 10–15 minutes at best.

He calmed himself and concentrated on taking the shallowest breaths possible. He had to take stock of his situation. He began by trying to remember what happened before losing consciousness.