Original subtitles

Why did you say this was for again?

It's a character piece.

My magazine is gathering oral histories from distinguished community leaders

around the country in hopes of gaining some insight as to how the country's

evolved in their... your lifetime.

You mean old people.

Well, my editor prefers distinguished community leaders.

You want my story because... Because my editor thought...

I thought that with your years as sheriff in Dare County, you may have

interesting observations as to how terrorism has affected what was once

more than a remote collection of fishing villages.

Uh -huh.

All right, so how do we do this?

Well, for the record, how about we start with who you are and a little bit about

your background?

My name is Charles Allen Davis, and I am a born and raised Deer County

local.

After two tours in Vietnam, I began my 40 -year career

with the Deer County Sheriff's Office.

That's 25 years of which as a sheriff.

I retired in 08 just after Charlie's.

Is this Charlie?

It was.

What happened to him?

Buffalo City.

I'm sorry?

Buffalo City.

It's a town out there in the swamps.

Never heard of it.

No reason for you to have heard about it.

Hell, I doubt there's any locals left that remember that. godforsaken place.

What was it?

Back in the 1800s, Buffalo City was the biggest town in the county.

It was built by the lumber companies out there in the swamps alongside the

Alligator River.

They had blacks, whites, immigrants from all over the world

living and working together out there.

And then, about the time that Prohibition started, timber

dwindled out. Most of the workers left.

The ones that stayed, they got into moonshine and business, make a living.

And from what I hear, they were pretty good at it, too.

But once Prohibition ended,

There wasn't much money in the moonshine business.

So the population dwindled until finally about the 1950s, the last

holdouts moved out, and the government acquired the land for a

wildlife preserve.

They all just left. There wasn't any attempt to revitalize the area? No

development?

Nope.

Well, why not? How can a booming town like that just disappear?

Because of the swamps.

What do you mean?

Look, there are some tales that are good for tourism,

and then there are others that ain't.

Stories about Buffalo City are not exactly the kind that tourists are going

flock to, if you catch my drift.

I'm listening.

When I was a kid, growing up out in the East Lake, we were always told to stay

away from that area. I just thought it was old wives' tales, ghost stories.

My first year with the department, we pulled two bodies out of that swamp, and

we could never find the cause of death for either one of those two boys.

Next year, a hunter went in, and after about a week of searching, we found his

body.

No cause of death.

My time with the department, we pulled... 22 bodies out of

there.

None of them were determined to have a cause of death.

No sign of physical trauma.

No animal attack. No snake bites. Nothing.

It's like their bodies just stopped working.

And that was just the ones that we could find.

There were more.

There are 23 more out there that we never could find.

The last one being my son, Charlie.

23 people.

Gone. Without a trace.

What do you think happened to them?

Everybody's got their theory.

Some people say they just...

Stepped in a swamp hole and drowned.

Others would say the wolves attacked and ate them.

Others would say it was the ghost.

But what do you think happened to them?

I think the swamp decided to keep them.

What do you mean, keep them?

I meant it exactly as I said it, that the swamp wouldn't let them go.

There have been people disappearing out there ever since the first settlers came

here.

You ever hear of the lost colony?

Well, the scientists in the newspapers, they're going to tell you that they

died out of disease or something and merged in with the local Indians.

I'm going to ask you, if those colonists decided to move inland, Where do you

think they would have landed?

In that damn swamp.

You were assigned to profile the retired sheriff, John.

So can you please explain to me why I'm sitting here reading an email proposing

a feature piece on some swamp town and not the piece that you're getting paid

write? Because this one is way more interesting, that's why.

Look, if you really want a story about how the country's changed, then why not

one about a town that not a hundred years ago was the largest in the

northeastern part of North Carolina, and today is nothing more than a forgotten

swampland?

Okay. Who else do you have for interviews other than this sheriff?

Well, anyone who might have lived out there is either dead or senile.

I mean, there might be some townies who have some second -hand accounts, but...

So your story is about a town...

more than half a century ago, the information of which is dependent on the

hearsay of swamp locals.

What can they say that hasn't already been said, John? What's new? What's new

about this story? It's a little more complicated than that. Then sell it to

John, because from what I'm hearing, you've wasted a day's worth of my

and I still don't have the feature article that you were sent to get in the

first place.

Harold, the story is readership gold.

Look, it's got tales of... Dozens going missing. Most never found.

Murder.

Death.

The occasional mention of ghosts.

Look, our readership is gonna love this.

We're not the National Inquisitor, John.

Do you know that? Our readers aren't interested in ghost stories.

Alright? We don't tell ghost stories, John.

You're wrong, Harold. People love crap like this.

That's just it, John. We don't sell crap.

And last I checked, I'm still the boss.

You get that?

So you have 24 hours to deliver the story that you were sent there to do

you can find yourself a new job.

Wait, what?

You heard me.

I want you in my office tomorrow afternoon at 4 p .m.

with the story about the sheriff.

And if not, you're fired.

In fact, if you don't have the story, don't even bother wasting my time

up. Do you understand me, John?

Say, I understand you, Harold.

I understand you, Harold.

Great. See you tomorrow at four.

Hey, how's it going?

What are you doing with this?

I'm going to the Alligator River Preserve.

What are you doing out there?

I'm doing some research on Buffalo City.

What do you mean, research?

I write for a national magazine, doing a piece on the city, why it was

abandoned.

So you can go out in those swamps by yourself?

That's the plan.

You're going to want to take that with you.

And these might be a good idea, too.

What's all this?

Well, there's nothing but overgrown woods and swamps out there, so you're

to need something to help clear a path.

Plus, it's good in case you come across any bears or gators while you're out

there. Gators?

As in alligators?

You don't call it Alligator River nothing.

And the poncho and whistle?

Well, you never know when the weather's going to turn against you.

And it's a pretty big swamp, nobody around, so I don't know what might

I'm blowing on a whistle if nobody around is going to help.

Thanks, but I'll pass.

Take this with you then.

And what's this for?

It's marking your trail.

Thanks, but no thanks.

It's on me.

I say I need some mith and ding batter on my conscience.

Thanks.

Hey, do you know where I can rent a kayak?

Yeah.

Where's my tape?

Calm down. Calm down. Deep breaths.

This way.

You're going to climb as high as you can if you go there.

Oh.

Stop coming.

Stop. You can get on.

No.

No. No.

No.

You gotta be kidding me.

No, no, no.

This place.

I'm gonna die here.

I never should have come out here.

Now I'm gonna die here because of it.

Thank you.

Now what?