Investigating the Crypts

You’ve never heard of the undead shambling out of a crypt; it’s always that hand coming out of the earth nonsense. Swallowing thickly, you reassured yourself using horror movie logic. You’d be fine, totally…

As it may seem, you weren't the only one who felt less than comfortable here. Peering around the herd, you curiously watched a fidgety, panicked hunter clutch his cowl tight over his shoulders. Head on a swivel as the group trudged along, he shakily muttered to himself, “Our founder, the Great Van Helsing…I ask of thee to protect us from-"

“Aaah!”  

Your feet left the ground! Shock shot through the group in a wave! But no- it wasn't the work of some resurrected cadaver, as your racing heart may indicate…Just a cruel joke on behalf of a mischievous Hound. “Van Helsing’s dead, idiot!” The prankster in question jabbed him in the side. 

“S-shut up! They never found the body!”

Nobody noticed when you stopped in the middle of the path. You had been pulled away from the pack by a peculiar sound emanating from one of the open crypts. Only as the hushed bickering grew distant did you notice you were now alone... 

Well…what could you do? Craning your head uncertainty, you surveyed the scene. The heavy marble doors of the crypts appeared to had been blown clear open by whatever may dwell inside. Echoing off the stale marble came this sickening growl, garbled and wet.

You clutched your carera tight. Part of you knew it would be better to ignore it. This is the kind of thing you watch in horror movies that make you want to yell at your screen. But what would be worse than taking your eyes off of whatever may lie in there? So, holding your breath, you crept inside one step- just toed one foot into the dilapidated crypt.

Something warm dripped on your head.

What do You Do?