Original subtitles

down here in this hole you got a three-year 66 million dollar contract

we're spending every penny of new uptown subway connector is going to run right

through here when we're finished i guess i shouldn't complain gotta send my

oldest to college this year little darcy needs braces twins want karate lessons

Okay, you got six feet of concrete. So just keep going until you hit the steel,

then we'll bring in the heavy artillery.

All right. Okay, you guys, let's get to working that C-frame.

Mikey's been asking for that mountain bike.

Darlene really wants a guitar.

And I need a vasectomy.

the hell's the matter with you, Hank?

It's in the wall.

It's in the wall.

Give me a light over here.

Are we all right?

Let's go on. Oh, my God.

It grabbed me. I swear.

Get a grip, Hank.

It grabbed you? I wouldn't do that.

This tunnel was built in 1945. That body's got to be 50 years old.

It should be a damn skeleton.

Hold this.

In 1564, Nostradamus predicted the destruction of Earth in three terrifying

waves. The first wave is here.

My name is Cade Foster.

These are my journals.

They killed my wife, framed me for murder.

Now I run, but I don't hide.

With the prophecies of Nostradamus as my guide, I seek them.

I hunt them.

I will stop.

The first wave.

Eddie picked up a wild story in a paranormal news group.

Travel writer Francesca Dutton disappeared over 55 years ago without a

trace.

Two days ago she was found entombed in the concrete walls of a New York subway

tunnel.

Alive.

Impossible to believe.

But then I read Quatrain 19, Century 4.

A maiden cut aloft from humanity.

Locked in a coffin of stone.

Her resurrection a clue for the man twice blessed.

Though the fate of her soul has been sealed.

I'm Jack Dutton. I understand my grandmother's staying with you,

Francesca Dutton.

Just a minute, please.

Fill out these forms, I'll be right back.

A medical technician on the scene said Dutton was transferred to the Maple

Ridge Retreat, a small psychiatric hospital in upstate New York.

I needed an excuse to visit Francesca Dutton.

Eddie worked his usual magic and got me in as her one surviving relative, her

grandson, Jack.

Did the aliens bury her alive?

How'd she survive that long?

I can only imagine what may be waiting for me in that room.

Your grandmother's this way.

Thank you.

Jack Dutton? That's right.

We've been expecting you.

I'm Special Agent Henry Burbitt, NAMP, National Agency of Missing Persons.

Oh. This is my partner, Agent Simon.

What brings you here, Mr. Dutton? Heard my grandmother was staying here.

Where'd you hear that?

Philadelphia PD.

A buddy of mine down at NYPD picked the tip up in his department.

Special Agent Verbit, 5-4-3-6-7.

Yeah, I need a check.

Philadelphia PD.

Badge number Bravo-28225.

I'll hold.

Tell us what you know about your grandmother.

Not that much, really. She disappeared before I was born.

My mother never believed she was dead.

Are you aware of any unusual medical conditions your grandmother had?

No. Any record of arrhythmia, circulatory problems, or decreased

metabolic functioning in your family history?

Not that I know of. Your grandmother was a travel writer.

In her journeys, did she ever bring back any ancient charms, talismans, or

crystals, perhaps?

No idea.

Did she subscribe to any unorthodox religious beliefs?

Like what?

Like the Vodun religion, for one, commonly known as voodoo. Who are you

two? We deal with missing persons, Mr. Denton.

You know, Jimmy Hoffa, D.B. Cooper, Elvis.

Sometimes these persons' disappearances may involve unexplained phenomena.

What's going on here? I'm afraid we can't... Where's my grandmother, and on

what grounds are you holding her here? Yeah, yeah, I'm still here.

I see.

Okay, thank you.

Would you excuse us a moment?

So?

So Jack Dutton's a police detective and he's her grandson.

Let's give her a shot at her. She won't talk to us.

Oldham wants us to remain classified.

Verbit, that's why he transferred the patient to a facility upstate.

And I thought we were here for the Gordon Lightfoot concert this weekend.

Verbit.

We can't allow the man in that room to know what happened to his grandmother.

Oldham would take us off the case. He's her grandson, dammit. He's got a right

to see her.

Look, if Oldham finds out, I will personally memorize all...

14 verses of the wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald.

And the legend lives on from the Chippewa on down of the big lake. They

call. You know how hard that makes me.

My hotel room tonight.

Bring the wine.

They found her like this.

Her epidermis continued to generate cells, but with no light, her

melanocytes stopped producing pigmentation.

She's like an albino.

The eyes appear red because they've lost all color.

You're looking at the blood vessels underneath.

He said she was found buried in concrete, where she couldn't possibly

survive.

Does that mean that you're exploring explanations outside of science?

Not necessarily. Similar anomalies have been observed in nature, living

creatures recovered from stone casing.

It may be hard for you to believe, but I'm confident we'll find a scientific

explanation for it. I don't know.

I know the feeling.

Like stone, concrete appears solid, but actually contains fissures through which

water, oxygen, even nutrients can enter.

Your grandmother's body might have absorbed trace elements.

Okay, that's a stretch.

But even if I bought it, explain this to me.

My grandmother's been missing for 55 years.

And aside from loss of pigmentation, she looks like she hasn't aged a day.

With near-freezing underground temperatures, her body might have

undergone a condition similar to that of hibernation, which involves extreme

drops in heart rate and metabolism.

That's where hair and nails aren't the length of a football field.

Do you have an answer for everything?

I can tell you from experience that not everything can be explained through

science.

What about you?

What do you believe?

The Museum of Natural History once displayed a live toad freed from a block

of magnesium limestone 25 feet below ground level.

Based on the rock formation, one geologist said that toad had to be 6,000

years old.

What are you saying?

We don't know what happened to Francesca Dutton.

We don't know who buried her in a subway tunnel. Or if it was some kind of

freakish accident.

Or even how she survived.

She hasn't spoken a word.

We could use your help.

Is it really you?

Mom always said she never believed you were dead.

Mind if I sit?

You're exactly how mom described you.

Only more beautiful.

Do you remember my mother, Patricia?

She'd be here today.

But she died two years ago.

She's dead.

Patricia, my baby.

Cancer.

She lived a full life.

She had me.

I'm Jack.

I'm your grandson.

My grandson?

But you're an adult.

My baby was only six.

Where am I?

The hospital in upstate New York.

Do you remember what happened to you?

Do I remember?

How long has it been?

55 years.

That's how long?

No light.

And the rumbling.

The ground always rumbling.

It was a subway.

You were buried in a subway tunnel.

I was sure it was hell.

All I had were memories.

But in the darkness, the loneliness, it all faded.

It all faded into nothing.

Till I was nothing.

Just a hollow soul.

You're safe now.

You won't go back there.

This is all too much.

I'll let you rest.

But first I need to know what happened.

Who did this to you?

No.

No.

What's wrong?

They might be out there.

Out there still.

Do you know what she meant?

They might be out there?

No, I don't.

You made contact. That's a start.

Can you come back tomorrow?

Yeah.

Maybe I can take home some of your files tonight.

Check up on the case.

We can't allow that, Jack.

I thought you wanted my help. We do, but you don't have clearance.

Am I out on a shaky limb already just letting you in here?

Well, can you at least tell me what forensics came up with?

Her clothes were entirely decomposed.

There was a hairpin and a 1942 penny in the concrete. They were probably in her

pocket at one time.

Nothing else?

No other evidence?

One thing.

Furbit. That's classified.

I want him to ask his grandmother about this tomorrow.

We found it in the concrete.

We can't identify the metal in it or determine what it was used for.

So, what did you dig up?

It's a silver orb, Eddie, just like the ones the Guai used to hold their

consciousness before they download them to our bodies.

Are you sure?

No doubt.

That means Francesca's one of them.

She's in custody.

We got ourselves a live alien, Foster.

No, Eddie, no.

I saw the pain and confusion.

I felt isolation.

I'm pretty sure suffering's human.

It was awful pretending to be your grandson.

Foster, look, remember, huh?

The Gua are very, very experienced at playing roles.

I know, I know. It's just... She felt like a victim.

Someone who had their life stolen.

A subject in an experiment.

Just like me.

We're close to home plate here, Eddie.

This person has alien evidence. They just don't know it yet.

Can you trust him, Foster?

There's something about Verbot I like.

Ah, wait a second, Foster. My paranoia radar just went off.

You lose your medication again.

Oh, that's funny, amigo.

But what, are you going to walk into a national agency and say, oh, hi, I'm

wanted murderer Cade Foster. I got some alien evidence for you.

What, are you vying for a guest spot on America's dumbest criminals?

Relax, I'm not going to tell them that.

At least not yet.

First, I'm going to help them figure out what happened to Francesca.

Her body had to be tampered with by the Gua to survive that ordeal.

Jack Dunn, Philadelphia PD.

I don't know if I should talk to you. These missing persons agents said

that... Agents Verbit and Simon, I know, were working together on a joint

investigation.

Can you show me where the woman was found?

Who built this subway tunnel?

Elroy and McMurray Construction.

Company still around?

Nah, closed down in the 70s.

Both owners long dead.

This is the spot.

So,

what was the deal?

They figure it out?

No.

What's this concrete made of, ingredient-wise?

I don't get paid to make this stuff. Just bust it up.

You notice anything unusual around here?

Concrete seemed a bit soft, maybe.

Fell apart in chunks.

I figure it was old.

Look, I gotta get back to work.

I got the lab analysis

of the tunnel wall.

The concrete facts, as it were. Very funny.

What am I looking at?

Well, concrete contains limestone, which adds plasticity by making it soft.

But the limestone in the concrete where Francesca Dutton was buried exceeds

industry standards by nearly 200%. So she

was encased in solid limestone.

Intuned for over half a century.

And it's a miracle the tunnel didn't collapse on top of her.

But why a limestone?

Well, I have a theory.

According to ancient legend, she's a trapped soul.

A llama in the late 19th century struck a limestone outcropping with his staff.

And a salamander crawled out panting for breath.

The llama performed a form of Tibetan yoga.

Which involves reincarnation.

The salamander was, in fact, a man banished to a Buddhist version of hell.

The llama had to free the man from his limestone prison in order to release his

soul.

I don't get it.

I get it.

You're saying the limestone traps the human soul.

Exactly. I mean, what if a person was buried alive in limestone? The soul

would be stuck.

It couldn't be reincarnated or go to heaven or hell or whatever it is you

believe it goes.

It'd be trapped in the human body.

Maybe even have the power to keep it alive.

Francesca said she felt like a hollow soul.

This could be an alien experiment in human preservation.

And forget cryogenics. A guac could just store human bodies for centuries until

we need them.

Good work, Eddie.

Good morning.

After a while, I lost the images.

What things look like.

Even people.

Last night, when I closed my eyes, I saw your face.

Francesca, I want to help you.

Will you let me?

You can't help me.

I can if you tell me who buried you.

Why you were buried.

There's more of us.

Save the others.

Who?

Two more.

Buried like me.

I don't know where they are.

You must help them.

What the hell is he doing?

I don't like this one damn thing.

What the hell's your game, Jack?

No game.

Then show us what you wrote down.

Those are secrets between a grandmother and her grandson.

Look, I want to figure out what happened here as much as you do.

I'll share information, but only if you include me in your investigation.

No, we can't do that.

Okay, you work your way, I'll work mine.

You won't see your grandmother again unless you cooperate.

James Jeffrey Reed, bank executive, New Haven, Connecticut, disappeared in 1945,

as did Olivia Quinn, college professor, Los Angeles.

Beautiful in that period sort of way.

Francesca was right.

The word to other subjects.

They're out there somewhere, Eddie, just like her.

Well, I cross-referenced her biographical data.

As far as I can tell, there's no link between the three.

Well, it doesn't surprise me. I didn't know any of the other 116 subjects in my

experiment. The question is, how do we find them?

You ever hear of a GPR system?

Yeah, of course.

Maybe.

Okay, Mr. Wizard Man, tell me your secret.

Ground-penetrating radar transmits electromagnetic energy pulses which

reflect off of targets in the subsurface of the ground.

A rather solid matter.

Well, do that again.

You stole one back in my thief days.

You'd be surprised what people bury on their property.

Well, it sounds great, but there's a lot of concrete in this country.

Good luck.

Hopefully we won't need luck, Eddie.

Francesca was born in New York City. She was found in a Manhattan subway.

Well, what if the Gua decided to bury the other subjects in their hometowns,

too? Well, we could dig up old building permits, huh? Find out what major

concrete structures were going up in 1945.

L.A.'s too big. Let's start with New Haven, J.J. Reid's hometown.

It's an easy drive from here.

Not a huge area.

This is going to take forever, Foster.

This is the last place.

Well, at least it's smaller than the convention center. Well, thank God.

I had to get out of that place.

Why do we have to go during a collectibles convention?

I mean, who collects Pez?

You see that toy grandstand with those 200 little Pez people?

I want to crush their little heads.

Especially Papa Smurf.

Man, that guy was bugging me.

I don't know, Eddie. I kind of like Pez.

Would you help me out here? Where would he be?

I don't know.

Walls probably made of brick.

The foundation.

Check it out.

What kind of pool?

Concrete foundation would be right under this tile.

You getting anything?

No, not yet.

Hold on a second, Eddie.

Whoa. I'm getting an image.

Right here.

Yeah.

Can you fine-tune it?

I'll be damned.

He's alive.

This is good work.

But why'd you share the find with us?

Feeling generous.

How about you?

Try and breathe slowly.

We're going to get you out of here.

Work with us.

Get your grandmother to open up.

We'll share our files.

Include you in the investigation.

Learn anything interesting about your grandmother?

Just reading her travel stories.

With World War II coming to an end, she was looking forward to seeing Northern

Italy.

She never made it.

Living life so fully and spending a near eternity in darkness.

It's a wonder she didn't go insane.

There is no greater sorrow than to recall in misery the time when we were

happy.

I'm Josie Simon.

How do you feel?

You need to drink.

Leave me alone.

A little gratitude would be nice.

Any luck with the other name on the list, Olivia Quinn?

We have five NAMP teams searching for her in Los Angeles.

They're using subsurface radar to comb every structure that went up in 1945.

How many were built there yet?

Not including residential homes.

17,555.

We don't know how to narrow it down any further. The subway and school were

built by different contractors.

I said, get out!

You need nourishment, JJ, or you'll die.

I strongly suggest you eat some food if you don't want your body to be lowered

in another hole.

This time, permanently.

She's tough.

Incoming.

You know, one-way mirrors don't exactly encourage trust.

I'd like to speak to my grandmother alone.

Maybe she'll open up.

I think that can be arranged.

Oh, yeah, and one more thing.

We found a connection between the three victims and some old U.S. customs files.

Seeing Francesca Dutton, J.J. Reid, and Olivia Quinn were all in India at

roughly the same time.

In 1944.

The year before they disappeared.

You're slipping, buddy.

What do you mean?

You said there was no link between the victims.

Verbacek Customs have found one.

Customs?

You know that I... I mean, eventually I...

Nobody's spying.

I have a confession to make.

I know.

You're not my grandson.

How?

Because you said you're like me.

The subject.

Subject?

In an alien experiment.

Aliens?

You mean foreigners?

No.

I mean extraterrestrials from another planet.

I know it's hard to believe.

What experiments did they conduct on you?

It was a test of human will.

They killed the woman I love.

Sorry.

What about you?

What were they studying, do you know?

No, do you?

They want to create a workforce, I know that much.

They could have been exploring ways to store her bodies.

Francesca, I need you to tell Simon and Verbin.

Please.

I've been tracking these bastards for over a year, but I need help proving

what I know.

I will.

But not without the support of the others.

Without their word, those people will just think I'm crazy.

You have to find Olivia.

How do you know the others?

Olivia and JJ.

We were subjects together.

But you knew each other before. You were all together in India.

We were on a trek in the Himalayas.

That's when I met them.

I was a travel writer.

Did you know that?

I read your writing.

You wrote beautifully.

I can't wait to see the world again.

Francesca, just one more thing.

The NAMP found a silver orb in the concrete near where you were buried.

I don't know anything about that.

What is it?

A receptacle for alien consciousness.

Based on what I've seen, it's how they get here from their planet.

Are there many of them?

Sorry?

The aliens.

Are there many here on Earth?

As far as I can tell, thousands.

What did she say?

Francesca was the subject of an alien experiment.

Now we're getting somewhere.

Will she talk to us?

Well, not until we find the third experimental subject, Olivia.

Hold on.

Alien delusions are a common psychosis following instances of extreme or

prolonged isolation.

These false beliefs can create... Oh, give it a rest, would you? You found the

woman in solid rock after 55 years.

If you can explain that away, then you're the delusional one.

For a bit.

He's got a point, son.

Excuse me.

Now's not a good time.

I found a connection between the first two victims.

A new connection.

The structures where they were found, the concrete structures, were designed

by the same architect, Frederick Lansing.

And he lives in New York.

Good work, buddy.

Yeah, sure, the feds thought about checking the contractor who built the

subway in the school. But did they think to check the architect, huh? Did they

well? No siree, Bob.

I know how to find Olivia Quinn.

Oh. Ask the man who buried her.

Well, let's see what Mr. Lansing has to say.

Go away, you kid!

All right, pull out your gizzards!

Mr. Lansing, we are federal agents. Please open the door.

Special Agent Simon with the National Agency of Missing Persons. This is my

partner, Agent Verbit.

All right, settle down.

What do you want?

May we come in? Not until I know what this is about.

We found two people embedded in concrete structures you designed over 50 years

ago.

They were alive.

Can you explain that, Mr. Lansing?

You didn't release them.

God help us.

Come in.

No shoes on the carpet. Take them off.

Is he kidding?

My wife and I met Francesca Dutton and J.J. Reid for the first time

in Kathmandu.

Trekking to the Himalayas.

It was the fashionable thing to do at the time, if you had the money.

I did.

Your wife was Olivia.

The four of us became fast friends, but it all went ghastly wrong,

and we ventured onto a side trail at the jungler Bajang Pass.

What happened?

We found what we believed to be a meteorite, a broken open.

Shiny silver balls had all spilled out.

glowing like so many Christmas ornaments.

I didn't touch anything, of course.

The others, they wanted souvenirs, you see.

So they each grabbed one.

In the days that followed, I watched as their bodies changed

from the inside.

You believe they were possessed by an entity?

An alien entity.

I don't know.

But our trek led us to a monastery on the Dalpo peaks.

A Hindu priest took one look at my companions and somehow recognized the

demons inside.

He told you to trap them and stop.

It was the only way to prevent their souls from reincarnating.

From carrying their evil into future bodies.

So you buried them in your buildings.

I had no choice.

But now, you foobles have released them.

You have no idea what you have done.

Where is she, Mr. Lansing?

Your wife, Olivia.

Give us the location.

No! I will release.

No more evil.

You must put them back.

You must.

I strongly disagree.

We should have taken Frederick Lansing into custody.

He's just an old shut-in, Simon. He's not going anywhere.

You're a cop, Jack.

How do you feel about leaving behind an attempted murderer?

I have to agree with Verbit.

Well, doesn't that surprise me?

Frederick didn't kill anyone.

He was just trying to stop the first wave.

What are you talking about?

Francesca was telling the truth about one thing.

There are aliens.

But I was wrong about Francesca. She's one of them.

Those orbs, the ones that Frederick found, the one you showed me from the

subway, they're vessels for alien consciousness.

How do you know this?

I once saw a man touch one when it was glowing, and it possessed him.

That must be how they originally seeded the Earth.

Planting orbs and meteorites scattering them across the planet.

When people found them, they were taken over by the alien entity inside.

Now they're more sophisticated.

They download their consciousness into genetically created human husks.

You're not a cop, Jack.

Who are you?

Francesca and JJ, they're gone. They'll go after Frederick Lansing.

Leave me alone.

I'll take the back.

Stand back.

No, you stand back, Verbit.

What the hell's going on?

Drop your weapon, Verbit.

You gotta be kidding me. Drop it.

She's on their side, Verbit.

Simon?

And later that night, when his lights went out of sight, came the

wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald.

Who are you?

How do you know about us?

Get him!

It's Olivia

So Olivia was in the house with Frederick all along.

She was his wife.

That's poetic.

He loved her.

I guess he wanted to keep her close to him.

I was in sixth grade when my turtle Shelly died.

I put her in an empty peanut butter jar.

She's still around here somewhere.

We lost our best shot, Eddie.

When are people going to believe?

We have followers, Foster.

Verbit was one.

There's all the other people you've helped the last year and a half.

One day they'll come together, rise up and be heard as one.

Verbit was a friend and was the best chance I had to convince the authorities

about the Gwa.

But at least I know I'm not the only one fighting them.

There are others out there.

Frederick Lansing took them on half a century ago.

I pray in the end that I fare better than he did.