Wildlife photographer Jane Fogg witnesses the crash of a mysterious black triangle...The triangle had to be over a hundred feet long. She reeled off more photos and then stuck her knee above the rim, hoisted herself up, and punched on the windows, but they turned out to be sealed. The sulphurous smell grew overwhelming. It was coming from the metal itself. Sickened, she wiped her face, crawled down the rim, and found an indentation that looked like a hatch, but it wouldn’t open, either. Then she discovered an ugly gash along the wood line.
"Hello, anybody in there?” she called into the dark hole.
Faint scratching came from deep inside the vessel.
“You okay? You need help?”
No answer. Maybe they were too injured to speak.
“You from the Air Force base?”
More scratching, then silence.
“You’re not a UFO, are you?” Some question. She flushed with embarrassment, and when nobody answered, she leaned further inside.
“I can’t get in there,” she explained to the crew she couldn’t see. “The opening’s too small. You’ve crashed in Rock Creek Park in Washington, D.C., which I guess you know. I’m sure they saw you on the radar and they’ll send a helicopter.”
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