Sinkhole

We fell with the concrete into a giant gaping hole. Foul heat rose up from nonexistence, and blasted us in the face. One rock pelted my left leg and I felt blood splash out and bones crack. My pants tore and I crashed against a boulder. The professor screamed. We fell with the concrete into darkness. 

I don't remember the impact. And I don't remember my leg ever healing itself. One moment, everlasting pain, and then the next, nothing but my cold breath and the foul heat and light falling upon my face from above. 

I scrambled up to my feet. Rocks and debris cluttered the area around me. I saw the professor on the other side of the piles. Then I saw the journalist beside me. They were both unharmed.

I went to the journalist first and helped him up. He complained about his back as I navigated over to the professor. Soon we were all together again and attempting to figure out a way to climb out. 

"Well, obviously there's no fucking way out. This is our sign... to give up." The professor said as he sat down upon a giant boulder. 

"I'm with him. This is ridiculous."

I shook my head.

"This is the worst place for submission. The city could keep us in here forever, you know. It's worse than hell."

They barely reacted to what I said. I sighed, and sat down beside the professor. He handed me a cigar. He offered one to the journalist too, but the journalist politely pulled out a cigarette. We smoked together, silently. 

The piles of rock underneath us began to spill into the center of the sinkhole. A hole formed, with the rocks falling into like they were being pulled in by a whirlpool. I don't remember being pulled into it, but we were.