The General's fingers touch the cold stone. He tries to get up but cannot: the ceiling is quite low. It, too,

The General's fingers touch the cold stone. He tries to get up but cannot: the ceiling is quite low. It, too, is cold stone, like the floor, and the walls that he can feel to his left and right, each wall at only an arm's length. Rustling. Rustling and realization. He is in a stone tomb, and the darkness around is not the night. It's the black darkness of the grave.