The Hockomock Resurgence

By Steve Woomer

The Hockomock is a swamp located in what is known as the Bridgewater Triangle in southeastern Massachusetts, an area of known paranormal activity. In the language of the Wampanoag nation, Hockomock translates to "the place where spirits dwell."

A paranormal team hires a local guide, Tom Bradford, to take them into the swamp where they will create a documentary proving that the tales are real; spectral voices and orbs, apparitions known as Tei Pai Wanka's, and lastly, the mythical Pukwudgies of Wampanoag lore, known to beguile and lure the unsuspecting to their deaths.

The team, encouraged by the orbs and spectral voices that they have already experienced on their trek inward, attempt the resurrection of the fabled Wampanoag death spirit, Hobbomock. When Tom Bradford returns after medically evacuating a psychic medium, Judy Brown, he finds all but one of the remaining team dead by decapitation. Randy Young, a videographer, is missing along with the heads of the three victims.

With the resurgence of Hobbomock, violent crime and paranormal activity surges all over southeastern Massachusetts, and a serial axe murderer emerges in the nearby towns whose modus operandi matches the murders within the swamp. A task force is formed to solve the murders, which includes Tom Bradford and Judy Brown as consultants. Judy Brown, angry at the stubbornness of the police, resorts to channeling the dead wife of Detective Sergeant John Stroud to convince him of the necessity to believe in the paranormal and remove the evil of Hobbomock. And now Johnny Stroud, with Judy Brown, Tom Bradford, and an old Wampanoag shaman on one side, and the no-nonsense, logical minds of the task force team on the other, must find the balance between reality and the unexplained to stop the axe murders and halt the spread of Hobbomock's evil.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Fulton Books, Inc.
• Release date: Sep 13, 2021
• ISBN: 9781637105634

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The Hockomock Resurgence

Steve Woomer

Copyright © 2021 Steven M. Woomer

All rights reserved

First Edition

Fulton Books, Inc.

Meadville, PA

Published by Fulton Books 2021

ISBN 978-1-63710-562-7 (paperback)

ISBN 978-1-63710-563-4 (digital)

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

For my wife, Judith, with love.

Acknowledgments

Many thanks to my early readers for their support and encouragement: my wife, Judith; Greg and Julie Nihan, Joe and Cindy Chodor, Lisa Jouett, and Roy Simester. Special thanks to all those at Fulton Books for making this dream come true.

Chapter One

There were five people sitting in Tom Bradford’s living room, all members of a paranormal team who were interested in hiring his services as a guide into the Hockomock Swamp. They wanted to explore the mysteries and myths they had all read about: the Bridgewater Triangle in Massachusetts.

On their arrival at Tom’s home, their leader, Sam Parker, had made quick introductions: Randy Young, a tall thirtyish man, was a novice investigator and videographer with an attitude that seemed a little too cocky to suit Tom. Judy Brown, a psychic medium and paranormal investigator, appeared to be in her early forties; she was red-haired, green-eyed, attractive, and self-assured. She did not look away, nor did she seem offended by Tom’s overlong stare. He pulled his eyes away from Judy as he was introduced to Zoe Merchener, a bespectacled graying blonde with a relaxed, friendly disposition. She was a self-professed psychic sensitive. The last, Paul Paulie Reiss, was a short pudgy, balding man who was an experienced videographer and an avid fan of the paranormal. Sam Parker was a thin fiftyish man with a perpetual dour look on his face and the attitude of one who was used to getting his way.

After introductions, they had told him about the places that they as a newly formed paranormal team had investigated to date: the Black Swan Inn at Tilton, New Hampshire; the Lizzie Borden house in Fall River; and (after going on the East Bridgewater Ghost Tour) an old cotton gin factory in town that had been converted to a self-storage facility. It had been the manager, a friend of Tom’s, who had pointed the group his way. Tom was never averse to making some extra cash, but he was having serious doubts about this particular group’s ability to investigate anything. Furthermore, with the exception of Randy Young and Judy Brown, the team appeared too out of shape to be traipsing about the woods and swamps of the Hockomock.

As the documentary the team had been watching about the Bridgewater Triangle came to an end, Tom was still mulling over whether he should take them, where he should take them, and what they could handle. Tom picked up the remote, stopped the DVD, and shut down the TV.

So? What do you think? he said, surveying the room. This documentary pretty well covers everything we could possibly encounter out in the Hockomock—the supernatural part, that is. I don’t know about you, but I think that we can leave out the UFOs. Tom looked pointedly at the short, balding man whose eyes were still shining from what he had seen on the video. How about you? And what’s your name again?

Paul. Paul Reiss, though everybody calls me Paulie! Are you kidding me? I can’t wait to go in there. Are you going to take us to the worst places? he asked eagerly. The most active areas?

Depends, Tom replied. You’re an investigative team, right? I can give you a better answer if you tell me what you are looking for—and what you plan to do if you find anything.

Pukwudgies! Zoe Merchener exclaimed. And spirit lights! I’d love to get pictures. Maybe I could even capture an apparition of an Indian ghost or record an EVP! Several of the group nodded in agreement.

We have all the right equipment, Mr. Bradford, Sam Parker said, aware that the group was not making a good first impression. Still, video, thermal, and 3D cameras, digital voice recorders, EMF detectors, spirit box, Ovilus, ghost radar…you name it, we got it. We mean business, and we want to record evidence of anything supernatural—

And get positive evidence of Pukwudgies once and for all, Randy Young broke in. A video of a live one would be good, even better if we can capture it and bring it back. How cool would that be? We’d be famous!

Capture a Pukwudgie? Tom said, shaking his head in disbelief. Do you even know anything about them? I mean, you just saw the DVD describing the encounter a man had with one. Didn’t you get anything from that? Have you people read up on them, what they are and what they are capable of?

What’s to know? Young retorted. "They’re a couple of feet tall, kind of furry and they live in the Hockomock. They look like Ewoks from Star Wars without the hoodies! Randy looked around, hoping for a laugh. So the guy in the DVD was scared, and his dog. Of course, he was. He had to be dramatic for the show or who would want to watch it?" Young shook his head, confident that his size and strength would be more than a match for them.

They’re only a couple of feet tall! Young repeated. The guy didn’t see claws or fangs either, just a furry little middle-aged thing with a pot belly. It didn’t even want to approach him. What real harm could they do?

What real harm could they do? Tom murmured softly to himself, confirming his belief that he was being hired by a bunch of rank amateurs. Well, he said, if you don’t know the answer to that, you have no business going in looking for them, and you shouldn’t be anyway. He looked about the group with a scowl on his face. I’m beginning to think that taking you guys in is a bad idea. I know the man who encountered the Pukwudgie in the video. Not well, but well enough to know that he is neither a liar nor an attention seeker. I believe he saw what he saw, and if you knew the lore about Pukwudgies, then you would also know that he was damned lucky to get away from it.

I have to apologize for Randy, Tom, Judy Brown broke in. It is Tom, right? She smiled. He’s the doubting Thomas of our group—and the most brash. And yes, we have ‘read up on them,’ she said, holding up her hands and simulating quotation marks with her fingers. We’re not stupid. We’ve done the research.

You’ve done the research, Tom repeated, shaking his head. He gave Judy a cynical look. Fine. Then let’s discuss the more practical aspects of this venture. The Hockomock is not a safe place to be. It’s not a gentle walk in the park. There will be trails initially, but after that, the going gets more difficult deeper in. It is a swamp, after all. I guarantee you will get wet and muddy slogging through the boggy parts. You will see snakes and get bitten by the bugs. And I have to say frankly that most of you look too out of shape to handle it. I don’t want anyone having a heart attack on me out there. How would I get you out?

That’s our problem, isn’t it? Sam Parker retorted. You’re being paid to guide us—

Which makes me responsible for your safety! Tom exclaimed, cutting the man off. And to this point, I haven’t ‘agreed’—he mimicked Judy Brown’s quotation marks with his own hands—to do anything. How are you going to hump all that ghost-hunting equipment and camping gear anyway? Besides carrying enough food and water to last a week, ’cause I’m not going to do it!

We’ll hire a couple of locals to carry the heavy stuff, Parker said. There are plenty of college kids here in Bridgewater. They get good money for a week of work. No problem.

Bad vibes. Bad vibes. That was all that was running through Tom’s head about this bunch and their proposed investigation and what a pain in the ass they would be out there in the woods. But he needed the money. Badly. Ignoring the group for the moment, he mused once more on where he could take them. He knew where they could go to see their spirit lights and hear phantom Indian voices in the woods, but there was no way in hell he was going to guide them anywhere near any of the known areas where Pukwudgies had been sighted or encountered. Maybe if they went in from the power lines near the old Raynham dog track…

Mr. Bradford? Parker said, breaking in on Tom’s thoughts. Mr. Bradford? Can we get down to business? We can see that you are reluctant. But you come highly recommended, and we are willing to pay you good money to take us in. So here’s the deal: For seven days and six nights in the Hockomock, I can personally guarantee you twenty-five hundred dollars up front to guide us. If we have none or limited paranormal activity, that’s all you get. But if you take us to an area of high activity and we record good solid data on what we hope to encounter, you get another seventy-five hundred. Cash. All under the table, so no Uncle Sam to report it to.

Tom’s head reeled at what they were willing to pay. Up to ten grand…

No! a voice murmured a warning inside his head. Bad vibes, bad vibes…

Screw it, he thought, shaking it off. Ten grand is ten f’ing grand for a week of babysitting.

Tom nodded his head. It’s a deal, if you agree to add this: I get twenty-five hundred in cash up front before I guide you in. But if you get scared and cut out early or cut the trip short for any reason other than success, I still want another twenty-five hundred. Guaranteed. If the venture is successful, I will expect another seventy-five hundred under the terms you offered beyond the initial twenty-five hundred you have agreed to pay me up front. In return, I will take you to the ‘high activity’ areas that you want to experience. I guarantee you will see your spirit lights and hear phantom Indian voices as I have said. You may see apparitions, but I can’t promise—

What about the Pukwudgies, Mr. Bradford? Randy Young broke in impatiently.

You’re not going to see a Pukwudgie, Mr. Young, unless they want you to see them. And you can’t expect them to look the same as in the video we just watched. If you’ve done your homework as you say, then you would know that they are shape-shifters. Besides, sightings are extremely rare and nothing good comes of it when there are.

Have you ever seen a Pukwudgie, Mr. Bradford? Judy Brown challenged. Because from the sound of it, you have.

Yes, Tom replied. I glimpsed one very briefly some years ago—there and gone in less than a second staring right at me clinging onto a tree trunk. But it wanted me to see it, to let me know that I was being watched. And it looked like nothing in the video.

Then take us there, Young said. That’s at least one spot where they’ve been seen, right?

I’m not promising anything regarding them, as I was trying to say, Tom replied. "I repeat: All of the known lore about Pukwudgies says that they are extremely dangerous when encountered. When I saw mine, it scared the shit out of me so badly that I got the hell out of there as fast as I could manage, and I’ve never gone back. And these ‘spirit lights’ that you want to see? Many are what the Wampanoag tribe here call tei pai wankas. They are the souls of Indians that have been killed and enslaved by the death spirit, Hobbomock. Again, this is according to known lore. Others are thought to be the spirits of Wampanoags killed in King Philip’s War or those that died from diseases that the white man brought with him."

He’s not going to take us in to find Pukwudgies, Sam, Randy Young said, speaking to Parker. Isn’t that mainly what we came to him for? Maybe we should find an actual Wampanoag to guide us—

You won’t get one, Mr. Young, Tom interrupted, not for any amount of money. Much of the Hockomock is sacred to them, and they will want nothing to do with your ‘investigation.’

What did your Pukwudgie look like? Judy Brown asked.

I’ll show you, Tom replied. He went out of the room for a moment and came back with a drawing that he handed to her. That’s my recollection of what it looked like. Nothing like the ‘Ewok without the hoodie’ as you say, Mr. Young, but that’s what I saw. And what I saw fits right in with the lore that describes them. It doesn’t mean that the man in the video didn’t see one. He just saw it in the form that it wanted him to see. In his case, it wanted to be seen in a nonthreatening form because it was trying to lure him away.

My god! Judy exclaimed. You actually saw this?

The others got up and clustered around her to peer at the drawing. It showed a small human-like creature clinging to the trunk of a tree about ten feet up from the ground. It had long fingers and toes ending in talons; a long, curving nose; and a wide mouth filled with sharp, fang-like teeth. It had large eyes and a thick, shaggy pelt-like head of hair that ran down its back. Its stare was malevolent, evil.

That’s what I saw, Tom repeated, just as I’ve seen the spirit lights and heard the Indian voices in the woods.

That’s a drawing, not an actual photograph, the ever-doubtful Randy Young scoffed. I see you have an up-to-date smartphone. You couldn’t snap a real picture?

I was out hunting, not sightseeing, Tom replied. I had my phone with me but it was safely tucked away and shut off. A police artist friend of mine drew this as I described it to him. You got any other problems with me? Tom asked, getting irritated. Young said nothing in return. "Good. Now, assuming we have a deal as I have outlined, here are the rules: I and only I decide where we go and where we camp. None of you are to go off on your own for any reason. You are not to chase after the ghost lights or try to find the source of the phantom voices you may hear. You have to understand that these phenomena are trying to lure you away and not for any reason that is good. They don’t want us there. Period! Keep that in mind. We stay in place, and I guarantee you they will come to us."

But not Pukwudgies, right? said a still-indignant Young.

Never mind, Randy, Zoe said soothingly. This promises to be the investigation of a lifetime with or without them. No one’s really documented the happenings out there with proof. That’s our goal, right? She winked at Young.

The others were giving him meaningful looks, as in Shut up and play along! Tom caught it but said nothing.

Right, Zoe, Randy said with a grin. I get you.

Whatever, Tom thought. They think they are going to document video proof of Pukwudgies? Most of them are so out of shape they won’t last more than two days out there anyway. Easy money.

We are going to be in the less visited regions of the Hockomock, Tom said, deciding to pacify them. We’ll be deep inside by the second day if all goes well. So who knows? But remember these two things about them: If they come, they come to cause you harm. And secondly, never accept an invitation from a Pukwudgie or invite them to come to you. I can’t state either enough.

"The man in the video said the creature beckoned to him, saying, ‘Eee wan chu. Eee wan chu,’ Paulie Reiss said, giving Tom a questioning look. ‘K’eer! K’eer!’"

Yes, Tom replied. It was saying, ‘We want you. We want you! Come here. Come here!’ Thank God he didn’t. He and his dog would probably have never been seen again.

And regardless of all this lecturing about how dangerous Pukwudgies are, you’re still willing to take us deep inside the Hockomock, Paulie shot back. You’re not making sense, Mr. Bradford. Is it too dangerous for us, or isn’t it?

Look, you are the ones harping on the damned Pukwudgies, Tom snapped. And hunters go in there all the time, though few camp overnight. In truth, they could be anywhere in the Hockomock. Even without the Pukwudgies, the other phenomena you will encounter more than compensates for that, I promise you.

Easy, Paulie! Parker said, taking charge. Mr. Bradford, we agree to all your terms, but I have one more. I hear you when you say Pukwudgies could be anywhere in the Hockomock. But will you at least take us to the place where you sighted yours? Just that one place will suffice, and we won’t bother you about it again.

Tom thought about it. His gut instinct was to say no, but then again, Pukwudgies could appear anywhere in there, right? And most likely they wouldn’t. Tom had been in the Hockomock often over the years, and he had only had a brief glimpse once—one second to be precise. And if he wanted, he could take them anywhere and say that was the place, right? But he knew himself better. If he gave his word to them, he would do it.

He blew out some air in resignation, which the group mistook for refusal. Paulie Reiss nudged Parker, who nodded back.

Mr. Bradford, I will give you an additional thousand dollars up front if you agree to this condition, on top of what we have already agreed to, Parker said. Do we have a deal?

I’m not guaranteeing that you will see Pukwudgies. But yes, I agree to take you to where I encountered mine.

Understood, Mr. Bradford. We can be ready in two weeks. Does that suit you?

Suits me just fine, Tom replied. He held out his hand, and Parker shook it to seal the deal. Tom held out his hand once more, palm open. Then that will be thirty-five hundred up front, he said, grinning. Cash only, no checks or money orders!

Chapter Two

No! Tom exclaimed as the two vans containing the paranormal team was coming to a stop. Don’t park there in front of the gate! You can’t block the entryway. If there’s a fire, the firemen won’t be able to get inside. Park over there on the side of the road.

The vans moved to where Tom had been pointing. He nodded approval and pulled down the tailgate of his pickup. One of the drivers, Paulie Reiss, approached him as Tom was taking out his personal gear.

That’s the way in to the Hockomock, right? Paulie asked, sounding put out. There’s a dirt road there on the other side of that gate. Why can’t we drive in and save some walking time?

Yes. This is the way in, from the Pleasant Street side in West Bridgewater, Tom replied. But if you haven’t noticed, the gate’s locked, Paulie. Also, there is a sign on the other side of the gate that forbids us to drive in.

Doesn’t look like much! Randy Young called out. He was unloading Paulie’s van along with the college kids that Sam Parker had hired. It don’t look so spooky to me! Just a bunch of woods like anywhere else!

Tom shrugged and pulled his backpack out of the bed of his truck and closed the tailgate. No, I suppose not, he said. But we’re not in the deep woods yet, are we? He placed his pack against the side of the truck and then leaned back against it to watch the unloading, now supervised by Sam Parker.

A half hour later, they appeared to be ready. Looking them over, he shook his head. Everyone was overloaded with gear except for the two women, Judy and Zoe—and Sam Parker. Tom felt exceptionally sorry for Sam’s hired help; they were certainly going to earn their money. Aside from himself, Judy Brown appeared to be the only one who had not only properly packed but was correctly attired for a week’s stay in the woods.

Are you sure you want to take all of that stuff in there? he said, giving them one last chance to ease what would soon become a difficult hike. You guys’ll be dead on your feet in no time.

That’s our worry, Mr. Bradford, Parker said in his usual stiff tone. We need everything we have.

So be it, Tom responded. Muttering Idiots! under his breath, he walked to his truck, opened the back door, and took out a holstered handgun, which he strapped on. Then he pulled out his hunting rifle.

No, no! Don’t shoot us! Zoe Merchener exclaimed, holding her hands out defensively in mock fear. Quick, Sam! Put something back in the damned van!

Laughter broke out all around. Paulie caused more laughter as he pretended to frantically put one of the cameras back into the van. Tom laughed with them; he had to admit Zoe had been pretty damned funny.

Tempting, but no, Tom said to Zoe, grinning. I’ll hold off until you guys have paid me in full! He wrestled himself into his pack and then slung the rifle over his shoulder. He took one last look at the group. Ready?

After a chorus of yes and head nodding, he walked up to the gate. We go around here, he said, pointing to the rutted dirt path around the post. Be careful not to snag on anything. For now, in the open, we can walk in pairs, but later in the woods, we’ll be forced to go in single file.

More heads nodded. Tom walked around the gate and onto the tree-lined road leading into the Hockomock. At first the road ran straight. Then after a hundred yards opened up in an area where power lines intersected it. From there was a picturesque view of the swamp looking north. Tom waited patiently as Sam and Paulie took what they called introductory video with commentary. When they were done, Tom turned the group to follow the power lines southward away from the dirt road.

Why are we going this way? Randy Young complained. The road to get in is there, isn’t it? You’re taking us away from the swamp!

Tom rolled his eyes. Randy, this is the northern edge of the swamp, and this dirt road you like so much is frequented by kids on dirt bikes and quads, which also makes it dangerous to walk on because those kids barrel down it like there’s no tomorrow. The trees and the bends in the road will muffle the sound until they’re right on top of us with only moments to get out of the way. And there may be no places on the side of the road to avoid them unless you want to jump into the swamp itself. You guys think you can move that fast with all that gear you’re packing? Also, that road runs west. These power lines run north to south. Most of the Hockomock is to the south of us. We’ll follow the power lines for some time and then turn west to get into the woods and areas you people want to experience. This way is safer. If a bunch of kids come blasting along this way on their dirt bikes, we’ll hear and see them in plenty of time with room enough to get out of the way. I have to think of your safety. That okay with you?

Can’t be all that haunted if kids come in here riding motorbikes all over the place, Randy mumbled, though loud enough for Tom to hear. "Maybe you’re the one taking us for a ride."

Tom took a step toward Randy, but Judy, seeing the look in his eye, intercepted him and placed herself between the two.

Randy! Stop second-guessing him, Judy admonished, pushing Tom away with her back as she did so. He knows what he’s doing. You been here before, know the paths, where to go?

Randy frowned but wisely said nothing more.

Judy turned toward Tom. That was quite a speech there, quick draw, she said teasingly, referring to the handgun he wore cowboy-like on his hip. Don’t listen to him. I’ve come to learn that he’s a natural pain in the ass, but overall, he’s harmless enough. We’re all ready for you. Lead the way.

Tom gave Randy a warning glare and then turned away to lead them along the power lines. But as Tom had foreseen, within the hour, the group wearied quickly, and they needed frequent rest stops even after a few easy miles of walking. Tom had to force himself to be patient and bite his tongue, reminding himself of the money he was going to make babysitting these tenderfoots.

On their last rest stop, he knew they wouldn’t make it to the trail that led deep into the swamp before dark. Seeing the reddened, overexerted faces of Zoe, Paulie, and Sam, not to mention the poor overloaded helpers Sam had hired, he decided to call a halt at the next dry and open flat space that he could find. Though there was still daylight, he knew they would need plenty of time to set up camp.

They made camp near the pylons just off the sandy road at the edge of the woods. Tom had the tents set up in a ring with a central firepit. He sent two of the men to look for firewood and the third a short way into the woods to dig a latrine. Zoe Merchener and Judy Brown had set up a camp stove and were preparing dinner, while Sam Parker, Paulie Reiss, and Randy Young fiddled with their video equipment. Tom gathered tinder and twigs and started the fire after the first load of wood was brought in. Later, when camp chores were done and dinner had been eaten, they all gathered near the fire as twilight deepened to darkness.

Yum, yum… Randy was grousing. Beans and franks! How original!

Oh, stop your bitching. Paulie put in as he swatted at a mosquito. I’m the one you’ll be gassing out of the tent tonight!

The group was quiet for some time, enjoying the fire as it crackled and shot occasional red sparks into the sky.

Judy broke the silence. Tom? Is there more you can tell us about the Hockomock? What does Hockomock mean? Do you know? Or why it is so sacred to the Wampanoags?

Yes, I can tell you a few things about it. Just give me a moment. He got up and placed another log onto the fire. Then he used a stick to reposition the wood and stoke the coals to keep it burning. When he was satisfied, he sat back down.

Wait, wait! Paulie said excitedly. "Before you start, let me get a video camera. This would be good stuff for our documentary,