Original subtitles

Veronica!

Clayton!

Clayton!

Clayton?

Clayton!

Veronica?

Clayton!

Clayton!

Veronica!

Clayton!

Clayton!

Clayton!

Clayton!

Veronica!

Clayton!

Veronica!

Veronica!

Veronica!

Clayton!

Over here.

Tell me a story.

- I'll never forget what I saw that night.

Etched in me memory.

Haunting me dreams ever since.

Unless it's the weekend, it's fairly quiet on the levels.

So, I can make me rounds on a standard Thursday,

bottom to top and back again in a steady 15.

I lit up a cigarette and took in the night.

That's when I heard this weird sound

coming from behind me.

Sort of

mechanical whirring.

I turned towards the sound and glimpsed this

intense light on the horizon, moving in my direction,

covering miles in the blink of an eye.

As it neared ever closer, it grew larger, brighter,

covering all the colors of the spectrum,

and then, darkness.

I became transfixed.

Unable to move.

And this,

this fear, now like a black hole the size of a house,

was hovering, nearly 50 feet above me.

And suddenly, it shined this blinding light

back down on me.

Like, God calling from on high.

And then,

it was gone.

Of course it's bollocks.

But I've got to give him credit.

It's one of the more creative hoaxes in a long line

of tall tales from attention seeking imaginatives

and drunks.

These assignments will bury me.

Everybody's got a bloody story.

- I must have been nine or 10 when it happened.

There was a full moon,

and a thick fog filled the narrow streets.

- It was moving towards me,

gliding above the floorboards.

- Fear coursed through my veins when I heard

its blood curdling roar.

- The sound of heavy hooves on the stone cobbles

quickly approaching me from behind.

- A woman, draped in a flowing gown.

- That's when I first laid eyes on the creature.

The dragon.

- I was knocked to the floor.

Terrified, I saw the blood laden horse rear up

in front of me.

His rider was wearing a black cloak,

and he was headless.

- I stood frozen to the spot, trying desperately to avoid

its hollow glare.

- Burst out of the lake, water cascading from its scales

and it flew straight at me with death in its eyes.

- The blood came pouring down his neck

as the knife sliced into his skin,

kind of like the razor sharp teeth of a great white.

- You're not filling me full of confidence

in your abilities with that thing.

- That happened twice, okay?

I'm much better now.

- I feel much more at ease.

- You can always opt out if you want to.

- I'm under strict instruction.

Smarten up, ready for impending fatherhood.

- You could look like you've been sun bathing

in a balaclava.

- It's a gamble I've got to take.

- Hey, when is she due, actually?

Last time she came in, she was fit to burst.

- A couple of weeks.

- Say goodbye to freedom, mate.

- So I'm told.

- Saw some of your recent work,

the Lincoln Myths.

- I'm sorry to hear that.

- I love that shit.

There's website full of them on the internet.

In fact, I heard this one story--

- Christ, not you as well.

- Okay.

There's this remote, rural village called Herg.

Apparently every 30 years, dating back hundreds,

someone disappears.

Vanishes without a trace.

No witnesses.

And subsequent investigations by the families

and friends have all turned up no evidence

to support the stories.

It's become a bit of a folklore.

This weekend is the anniversary of Thirty.

- I heard about your latest call.

By all accounts, Bennett's pretty pissed off.

You trying to force his hand?

- Well I can't fire him.

- Who got the pages, culture?

- Sports.

- Those twats.

You know, how much non-league football can they write about?

And yet I still get stuck with the cuckoo's nest

of rejects.

- Know of any good ones lately?

- One guy drew me a map to some Nazi gold

hidden in a sunken u-boat off the coast of Mablethorpe.

So.

Are we good?

- It'll do.

- I'm so glad I could be of service.

- If you're not happy in your new position,

I'm sure your inbox is just full of offers, so please.

- No.

- No?

- We've spoken about this.

- You're a fucking pussy.

- I need expenses.

- What for?

- To follow up with a story.

- Why can't you just make it all up like the last guy?

- If I wanted to write fiction,

I'd write my great space novel.

Seeing as you gave me this bullshit assignment,

the least you can do is stomp up for it.

- Christ.

- Disappearances.

- Disappearances?

Do you know how many people disappear each week,

even each day?

- But this one is different.

It goes back centuries.

Every 30 years.

They call it

Thirty.

- Thirty?

It's imaginative.

This is the one you're buying into?

- There could be something to it.

I thought I could go up, talk to some locals.

You never know.

- Well what'll it cost me?

- Accommodation.

Train tickets.

Car ride.

- Tickets?

Is this an invite?

- I'm taking Harriet.

- That whore?

- Is that a yes?

- Just bring me a fucking story.

- There you go, grandma.

- Grandma?

That's fresh, coming from you and your glass back.

- Yeah, that's genetic.

- Yeah, conveniently only flares up when there's

some housework to be done.

- You know I'm short.

Why this assassination of my character?

- I haven't forgotten the time you injured

your back playing golf, just to get out of laying

those patio tiles.

- That was legitimate.

I trapped a nerve attempting a long island shot

over the tenth.

Ruined my round.

- I'm sure it did.

Alright for some.

- Don't worry, I'm sure I can drink enough

for the two of us.

Thanks.

All packed?

- Sort of.

So where exactly are you dragging me to?

- Herg.

- You're not going to be working all weekend, are you?

- Uh, a few interviews.

Half a day, tops.

- Why do you continue to put up with this crap?

- It's all they have for me at the moment.

- Claire has for you.

- Stop it, it's for work.

- So.

What's the story?

- Thirty.

- The UFO one?

It'll be nice, just the two of us.

- Yeah, well I thought it could be our

last little break before, um.

- We're not camping are we?

- No, don't worry, I've learned my lesson.

No, I haven't actually booked one yet, if you want to.

That way you can't complain.

- Complain?

- Sorry, nag.

Book somewhere you can put your feet up,

and enjoy the scenery.

- I think I can manage that.

Don't they have crime around here?

- Anything?

- Just the blue dot.

Bloody map still won't load.

And the signal's dropped out again.

- Great.

Probably end up driving into a quagmire.

See if there's a proper map in the glove box.

- Nothing.

There's someone up ahead.

What's he doing?

- Excuse me?

Excuse me?

- Graven image.

- Any chance you can point me in the direction of Herg?

- Herg.

Continue along this lane for approximately two miles,

at which point you'll arrive at the Hamilton Magsby.

As you pass through, you'll need to take

the bridge over the river, continue on for another

six and a quarter miles,

whereon you'll reach Herg.

- Cheers.

Any place I can get a bite to eat?

- You will find the Rowbook Inn at Herg most accommodating.

- I appreciate your help.

- If they're all like that, you'll fill a book.

- Hope everything was okay?

- It was lovely.

- Oh, you'll struggle to get a signal in here.

You're in a bit of a black spot.

- It all adds color to the story.

Isolated from the wider world.

- It writes itself.

- Are you here about Thirty?

- I am.

- You don't strike me as the usual conspiracy junkies

that pass through here.

- Yeah, I'm writing an article.

What do you know about it?

- Same ghost story as everyone around here.

- Disappearances?

- Yeah.

- Tell me your story.

- Centuries ago, a malevolent entity was summoned

by a disillusioned religious fanatic

in order to do the bidding of a worshiped, darker,

higher power demanding a blood debt in exchange

for prolonged life.

Life for a life.

Generations of disappearances.

People being taken as sacrificial lambs.

Until, the eventual demise of the Black Priest,

having succumbed to extreme old age.

Silence fell, and it was thought that the rathe,

which shared a symbiotic relationship,

had also passed over and the threat was extinguished,

but they were deceived.

Three decades later, on the anniversary,

another was taken.

A dark shadow resurfaced,

and every 30 years hence kills on,

in continued payment to its master.

- So it's supernatural then?

- If you believe in the legend.

- And do you?

- Like I said, it's just a ghost story passed down

through generations and told to scare children.

- But people have disappeared?

- According to some, but not in my lifetime.

- Who should I speak to then?

- I'd try Clayton Eldridge.

If Thirty is to be believed, his sister was the last

to be taken.

- Really?

Where do I find him?

- He lives out on Nook Road.

You may find him elusive.

- And why is that?

- He spends his time combing the wilderness

in the vain hope of finding her.

- After 30 years?

Eh, I'll track him down.

- Can I ask,

what do you believe?

- I'm inclined to agree with you.

- Yet you still came all the way out here.

- If Thirty really is nothing more than an

old wives tale, why are you out here?

- I'm drawn by the disappearances.

- Because of Abigail?

- I want to discover the truth.

In my experience, once you scrape away all the

folklore bullshit that taints these stories,

there's always fragments of credibility.

It doesn't matter if it's sightings, attacks, abductions.

- But 30 years apart?

Surely that's a coincidence.

Ambitious, even for a serial killer, or copycats.

- Maybe.

Maybe not.

- What's that?

- Come on, let's get inside.

Hello?

- This is ominous.

- Yeah, not creepy at all.

Hello?

- Shit, I left my handbag in the car.

- Yeah, I'll go get it.

- Don't be daft.

Give me the keys.

- You sure?

- And they say chivalry's dead.

You get us checked in and then come and find me.

- Can I help you?

- My partner rang yesterday about a room?

- Is that Lincoln?

- Two for two nights.

- I was expecting you a few hours ago.

- Sorry, we got way late.

- I've put you in the Autumn Room.

- Sounds good.

- Is that a card payment?

- Of course.

- To the upstairs, at the end of the corridor.

Breakfast will be available from half past seven.

- Thanks.

Don't worry, I'll get the bags.

We should get one for the house.

I should have carried you over the threshold.

- Not in my out-of-wedlock state.

What the hell are you doin'?

- I'm trying to find the creepy Victorian doll.

I mean, it's bound to be here somewhere.

- I think it's charming.

Untouched.

- Eh, above the 21st century.

You okay?

- Cramp.

- Better?

- Yeah.

Thanks.

What time is it?

It's still early.

- Sorry I woke you.

- It's fine.

Are you sure you're okay?

- Yeah.

Go back to sleep.

I'm going to just stretch my legs.

Try and shake it off.

- You want me to come?

- No.

Go back to sleep.

Hi, this is Harriet.

Sorry I missed your call.

Leave a message and I'll get back to you.

I don't know what you're thinking

about those calls from Claire, but it is over.

I've been clear to her, but I can't stop her calling me.

Please come back so we can talk about it.

Hi, this is Harriet.

Sorry I missed your call.

Leave a message and I'll get back to you.

Please call me.

We've been through this.

It was a stupid mistake, and I swear nothing more

has happened.

Hi, this is Harriet.

Sorry I missed your call.

Leave a message and I'll get back to you.

This isn't like you.

Just call to say that you're okay,

and let me explain and I'll come and pick you up.

Hey, this is Harriet.

Sorry I missed your call.

Leave a message and I'll get back to you.

- Hello?

Hello?

- You shouldn't be back here.

- You were nowhere to be found.

- How is it I can help?

- Have you seen Harriet?

- Who?

- The woman I'm with.

Have you seen her this morning?

- I have been up and about since 5:30,

and you are the first person I've seen.

- And what about the other guests?

- There are no other guests.

- Well, can I borrow your landline?

I can't seem to get any decent signal

anywhere in this place.

- You may have better luck up on the hill.

- Well if I just use your line, as I'm here.

I really need to get ahold of her.

- It's just behind you.

Hi, this is Harriet.

Sorry I missed your call.

Leave a me--

Hi, this is Harriet.

Sorry I missed your call.

Leave a message and I'll get back to you.

Having second thoughts about the woman

you chose to take away with you?

- What did you say to her?

You know as well as me that she can't satisfy you like I can.

- I thought I made this clear that it's over.

I love Harriet.

I was thinking about you all night

wishing you were between my thighs.

- I haven't got time for games.

Tell me what you said to Harriet.

Have the two of you had a lover's tiff?

- Stop the lies, what did you say to her?

What possible reason would I have

to speak to her?

- To spoil the water after I've turned you down?

Fucking hell, you do think highly of yourself.

- Whatever.

You've achieved your goal, congratulations.

I wanted you last night, not her.

- Yeah, well I woke up to find the bed empty

and half a dozen calls from you.

I can assure you I've got no intention

of telling that knocked up whore about us.

- Yeah, enough.

She's nowhere to be seen.

She's not answering her phone.

If she's finally put two and two together,

you need to sort this out.

I suggest you find her and convince her she's wrong.

- Fuck.

You're fine enough in the sack,

but let's get things straight.

That's all it ever is, or was.

I don't want a crazy, hormonal bitch

knocking down my door.

- Yeah well how exactly do you expect me to explain these late night calls?

I'm sure you've already told her

what a demanding bitch of a boss I am

to cover the nights away, so bullshit her some more.

In future, I suggest you only call me with either a story,

or a desire to fuck.

- Anything to it?

- Nothing out of ordinary in the immediate area.

Moving forward, I'm going to need a recent picture

of the missing.

- She's not just missing.

I believe she's been taken, abducted.

- So you keep inferring.

Well, until I find evidence to suggest such

nefarious deeds, if it's all the same,

we'll focus on the facts.

People go for early morning hikes around here

every day of the week.

On occasion, some end up venturing a little further

than they anticipated and head off the beaten path.

It's easier to lose your bearings.

You said yourself, she went to stretch her legs.

- To walk off a cramp.

She's eight and a half months pregnant.

She's not going hiking.

- Might appear unlikely, but past experiences show me that

the simplest explanation for the presumed missing

is most often the correct one.

Don't be surprised when she walks over

the horizon wondering what all the fuss is about.

- And if she doesn't?

- Then I'll begin the necessary procedure.

- Alright, if it's so black and white, explain this.

I found it pressed into the ground, near the car.

- Knitting? - Evidence.

- Of what?

- I don't know.

A struggle?

More than you'd have me believe.

- There it is. - There what is?

- You're one of them.

Another myth chaser.

- You're right, for Stardoff News,

and yes, I'm investigatin' Thirty, but,

like you, I'm only interested in the facts.

- Then let me lay them out for ya.

Thirty is nothing more than a bedtime story told

by parents to keep their kids in line.

- So I've been told.

- And pay it no mind.

Heck I even told it to my youngin's.

I can assure you, there's no monster to be found.

- Well no monster perhaps, but,

you can't deny there have been disappearances.

The Eldridge girl?

- You've been doing some research.

- Well that, coupled with Harriet's disappearance,

there's your 30 year pattern.

- I hate to burst your bubble like the others

who have come 'round here over the years

hoping to find a story, all any of the investigations

have discovered was one little in that case,

which was solved.

A lot of boy who cried wolf.

The proprietor said you checked in alone.

- Harriet was at the car.

You think I did it?

- Just establishing the full picture.

- Alright, what is it?

A conspiracy, or are you just incompetent?

- I think that about wraps it up.

Despite what you might think,

I'm trying to help you find Harriet,

and I'll continue to do so.

I'm not gonna stand here and be insulted

by an arrogant hack who's bought into a hoax.

I certainly won't chase shadows.

- So that's it, then?

- Text me that picture of Harriet,

plus her mobile number and I'll check with the hospital.

If you want something to do, I suggest you contact

any of her family and friends.

But I guarantee she'll be back here before you get

through her address book.

And I'll keep you updated, but call me when she's back.

Hi, this is Harriet.

Sorry I missed your call.

Leave a message and I'll get back to you.

Please let me know where you are.

I've been out looking for you.

I'm getting worried.

Just let me know you're both safe.

I'm sorry.

- Lincoln, I presume?

- Caulfield?

- Let's be brief, as this meeting wasn't scheduled.

- I appreciate you seeing me.

- Alex explained your situation.

What can I do for you?

- I need you to circulate the story.

- Have you contacted the police?

- I spoke to a Sergeant Jarrett.

He didn't seem overly concerned though.

He just fed me some tosh about how she's probably

got sidetracked whilst out walking.

- You'd be surprised how often that's the case.

- She's pregnant.

- Well have you contacted the hospital?

- Nothing.

Jarrett's put them on alert.

- Well it appears as though the sergeant

has the situation under control.

- If I need any information, it's important this

gets out there quickly.

- Oh, we're simply weekly, I'm afraid.

- Well what about online?

- Ink and paper only.

We barely have enough news for that.

- I'm not asking for a bloody Sunday supplement.

It's a small piece asking for any knowledge.

- I'll see what I can put together,

but it's going to be very tricky.

We're so near publication.

- I suspect foul play.

- Along what lines?

- Thirty.

- Thirty.

Never made anything to it.

Dead ends.

We just lead on it for tourism.

- So why do I keep getting the same passe line?

- So you've mentioned it to Jarrett then?

- I did.

- Put yourself in his position.

What do you expect him to do?

Call a priest?

- No, but there should be a proper investigation

into the facts.

- The facts, according to you?

- I'm sorry?

- Harriet hasn't been seen by anyone

other than yourself since you were in the Rowbook.

- Who have you been talking to?

- I keep my ear to the ground.

- And what exactly are you trying to say?

- You've built quite the fan base of the surely

city readers of your column, fella.

- I just do the job I'm assigned.

- Well what better way to get back amongst it

if one of your stories actually turn out to be true?

And you had a tragedy that had never been so close to home.

That's a national front page.

- Are you fucking serious?

- As soon as Benedict give me say so,

I'll see if I can put it together.

- No, no, no, this is fucking insane.

I'll find her myself.

Hi, this is Harriet.

Sorry I missed your call.

Leave a message and I'll get back to you.

Please answer.

I'm now really worried, my mind is racing about this

ridiculous Thirty story, just, call and put my mind at ease.

I love you.

Hey!

Hey, hey!

- Glad you took up my invitation.

Come in.

- Why am I here?

- We'll have time for your questions.

Take a seat.

The kettle's just boiled.

Do you always repay people's hospitality

by snooping through their belongings?

- Even if the findings justify my actions?

What the hell is this?

- I do wish you would have just waited.

Camera.

- Not until you tell me what I'm seeing here.

- It's not what you think.

- Convince me.

- Don't you trust me? - Not after today.

- But I invited you here.

- With a creepy, anonymous note.

Where's Harriet?

- Please sit. - No.

- Suit yourself.

If you heard of Thirty Truthseeker--

- The blog?

- It's mine.

- It seemed more credible than most of the stuff I've read.

- 30's been a hobby of mine going on 15 years.

- You believe it?

- Yes.

Harriet's disappearance, I'm afraid,

has all the hallmarks of Thirty.

- And what do you know about it?

- I've lived in Herg my whole life.

I remember when Veronica Eldridge went missing

30 years ago.

Her parents wouldn't talk about it.

They thought it would be too upsetting, but,

I would overhear them discussing things

when they thought I wasn't around.

My grandad would tell me stories about it, though.

He used to give me chills.

He would say that this was his third Thirty.

Again, my parents would laugh it off.

He even told me that his own grandad used to

tell him about people vanishing when he was young.

Our parents were right; it scared the shit out of me.

What could do that over hundreds of years?

Something

very sinister.

Evil.

- What makes you so different from the others

who just dismiss it?

- Well I've got no hidden agenda.

- So there is a conspiracy to cover it up?

- Yes and no.

I've seen the police files, and, what you've been faced

with is boys own loyalty.

Caulfield and Jarrett go back a long way.

They're thick as thieves.

Sergeant Jarrett has a family history of being

burned by Thirty and Aaron, he's just a bit of a prick.

Jarrett's father was the policeman in Herg

when Veronica went missing.

He fully believed all the stories.

Took it all very seriously.

I believe it was a disappointment of never finding

a missing pregnant girl, which--

- Pregnant?

Yes.

- The Eldridge girl?

- Yes.

- And what about the others?

- No records, but, I fear so.

Which makes it all infinitely more disturbing.

Jarrett Senior took his own life as a result

of his failure.

- So how do I find Harriet?

I mean, she's still out there with our unborn child.

I have to hold onto the belief she's still alive.

- I have been working my way through

residents past and present.

The history of Herg, interviewing all to get

any accounts of Thirty.

Amongst all the reports, wild stories, and bullshit,

one individual stood out.

- The father of Veronica's child?

- Unlikely.

That was always a mystery.

Clayton Eldridge.

Tape recorded on the

5th of September, 1987.

I'm Sergeant Arthur Jarrett, conducting the interview

of one Clayton Eldridge,

age 16.

Okay, Clayton.

I'm gonna ask you some questions, okay?

First off, in your own words, do you want to tell

me what happened?

We were out taking Kit for his walk

down Borderwood Path, when out of the night,

a blinding light took my vision.

- He claimed the next thing he remembers was coming

to at sunrise to find his sister missing,

his dog dead, and his hands and clothes covered in blood.

Hypnotherapy was employed to try and subconsciously

bring out a confession, but, all he said was

he heard a voice crying out in the wilderness

like something out of a nightmare.

- And what about DNA?

- The blood was from the dog.

No trace of Veronica.

Despite Clayton's continued pleas of innocence,

with no other suspects, he was detained in a

psychiatric ward, until he was released five years ago

wherein he returned to the area in his old cottage.

He lives alone and barely speaks to anyone.

He just walks across the moors.

- We need to track him down.

And I'll pay Jarrett a visit.

- Let's leave and come back in the morning.

- No.

If you ask Harriet, I'm not waiting until tomorrow.

You can wait here if you want.

It's him, he has Harriet.

- Where?

- I don't know, but it's fucking him.

- Did he see you?

- Who? - Someone's in there.

- Wait here.

- We should get Jarrett.

- After I have Harriet.

- Wages of sin is death.

- Now just hold on.

- Against the wall, if you please.

- Just--

- Wager is up.

- You don't have to do this.

- What calls you to purpose here?

- We're looking for someone, a missing woman.

- Veronica?

- No, my partner Harriet.

Where is she?

- It's too late.

- Look, just tell me where I can find her.

- She's gone.

- What have you done with her?

- As you sew, so shall you reap.

- Please help us, Clayton, or either her

while the child's still alive.

- Once they take them, they don't come back.

They never come back.

- Who takes them?

- Thirty.

- Where the fuck is she?

Where the fuck is she?

- They have her now.

- Who has her?

- It's not him.

What is all this, Clayton?

- I'm searching for her.

- What do the threads mean?

- The ESBAT stones.

- I'm gonna try and call Jarrett.

- Priest?

Alexandra?

Who did this?

- Out of the darkness.

- Just hold tight, we'll get you to a hospital.

- Too late.

I'm sorry.

- Why?

What for?

- You were creating noise I couldn't silence.

- Do you know where Harriet is?

- My father was right.

There's a monster lurking in the shadows.

- Thank God you're okay.

- Evidently.

- Your head, let me get you patched up.

- It's not all mine.

- Whose blood is it?

What happened to you? - Where the fuck were you?

- I told you, I went to call Jarrett.

- I came outside, and you were gone.

- I was trying to get a signal.

When I got back, you vanished.

Just the empty car.

I feared the worst.

- Jarrett's dead.

- We should go inside.

You're certain it was Jarrett that dragged you out there?

- He admitted as much.

- Why would he do that?

- Better to bury the truth then be on in search of a myth.

- Yeah, he's dead all the same.

- Perversely poetic.

- Do you think he was connected to Thirty?

- Yeah, he spoke of something darker as to what killed him.

- Clayton disappeared.

- What?

- I was looking for you and he was also gone.

- Fuck.

Yeah, I knew he was involved and you talked me out of it.

But if they're still alive, and we're to find them,

we need to act now.

I'll contact the county police, and back to the B&B.

- I was looking through photos of Clayton's wall.

- Anything to it?

- Not yet.

- Well.

Keep combing through the other six notations

and decipher any thread from the information

which might bear relevance.

- I'll compile everything ready for the police.

- Yeah, thank you.

- Tread carefully.

If you see Clayton, don't confront him or find them.

- Are you alright?

- You found us.

Come forth into the light, lone traveler.

A sacrificial mark.

Mother of life.

Mother of death.

- We need to leave, now.

I am legacy.

I am father.

I am rathe.

Born of the shadows,

a lineage unbroken for generations.

- Blood

must be paid.

- What the fuck's happening?

- I am a righteous servant.

I win over your soul and ignite the spirit of darkness.

I am a priestess.

A bringer of death.

- Blood must be pai--

- Are you okay?

- Wait, wait, wait, no!

What are you doing?

Tell me a story.

There's a remote, rural village called Herg.

Apparently every 30 years, dating back hundreds,

someone has disappeared, vanished, without a trace.

No witnesses.

It's just a ghost story passed down

through generations and told to scare children.

Thirty is nothing more than a bedtime story.

Used to tell him about people vanishing

when he was young.

This one's different.

Goes back centuries.

Despite reports being filed

by family and friends of the missing person,

subsequent investigations never found any evidence

to support the accusations.

And this weekend is the anniversary of Thirty.

- It'll be nice, just the two of us.

Isolated from the wider world.

What could do that over hundreds of years?

Something very sinister.

Evil.

There's a monster lurking in the shadows.

- The stories have become folklore.

They call it

Thirty.