Winger Chronicles

The Conundrum (The Winger Chronicles: Part 1)

He stepped off the porch into the mist and started toward the tree line. His pack was loaded with cans from the farmhouse’s pantry and one fewer box of bullets than he’d gone in with.
He glanced back at the home looming out of the fog. The massacre that had taken place inside barely crossed his weathered mind.

A young girl stood on the porch, her cheeks wet with tears. He wanted to take her with him, to explain why what he did was necessary, but his life was not fit for a child. He couldn’t do that to her.

She Never Listens (The Winger Chronicles: Part 2)

He pushed through the brush at the edge of the forest, knowing she was creeping along behind, not able to bring himself to send her back. Just beyond the nearly impassable brambles was a field, greener than any he’d ever seen. Beyond the field were mountains, and clouds that looked so much like mountains that it was impossible to tell where the real mountains ended and the fake ones began.

The girl poked her head through the thorny barrier.

“You shouldn’t have followed me.”

“You shouldn’t have left me.”

“It’s too dangerous.”

She pointed to the endless mountains. “Dad, look!”

Starting Point (The Winger Chronicles: Part 3)

Her outstretched finger guided his gaze to the gargantuan cavern nestled at the base of a mountain across the lush, green field. “That’s where we’re going, right?”

The toothless grin in the side of the mountain beckoned. “That’s where our journey begins. Where it ends, I don’t know.”

Silence swirled around them, encasing them in an unfriendly cocoon. Even the grass beneath their feet hungrily swallowed the sounds of their footfalls as they crossed the vast expanse. He stopped twenty yards shy of the massive entrance, unable to shake the feeling of being a fly trapped in a spider’s web.

Into the Dark (The Winger Chronicles: Part 4)

It watched the man and the girl cross the field. Its pale, flecked skin blended seamlessly with the surrounding boulders. The beast snarled in disgust and fought the urge to pounce on the murderous humans.

The girl looked into the dark cave, contorted her lips, and looked back at the man.

“Shall we?”

The girl nodded. Not a sound passed between her moving lips.

The humans disappeared into the cavern; the creature slunk from its hiding place. It stood at the entrance and watched its prey disappear into the dark before spreading its fleshy wings and gliding into the gloom.

Descent (The Winger Chronicles: Part 5)

Copyright Sandra Crook

Noises all around were grinding on Liv’s frail nerves. Flowing water, the pebbles scuffing beneath her feet, every sound had a life of its own. She clung to her father’s shirt as he continued down the gentle grade of the cavern floor.

“Didn’t you bring a flashlight?”

“Don’t need one. Open your eyes.”

She pried her eyes open and forced herself to look around. The shallow stream to the right gave off a phosphorescent glow like she’d never seen, bathing everything in dim blue light.

Behind them, she caught sight of a snarling, winged creature perched atop a stone arch.

Prey (The Winger Chronicles: Part 6)

Copyright John Nixon

At the edge of the stream they knelt and feigned drinking. Neither had any plans of actually ingesting the glowing, sulfurous water.

Winger eyed his reflection in a small waterfall until the hulking demon appeared over his shoulder. A well placed boot sent the beast stumbling backward and howling in anger. Winger whirled around, leveling his gun in the process.

He squeezed the trigger three times. One shot to the chest, two to the head- just like he’d been taught. The roar of gunfire bounced off the cavern walls in a deafening cacophony that left his ears ringing for hours.

Always Be Prepared (The Winger Chronicles: Part 7)

The glowing stream had long since disappeared into the bowels of the earth. Their only source of light became a flashlight he kept in his pack.

Liv’s fingers wrapped around the knob of the door embedded in the back wall of the cavern.

Winger pulled his gun from the holster on his hip and leveled it above the light. “Ready.”

She yanked open the door.

He watched the narrow beam of light. By the time he saw the bladed pendulum coming his way, reaction time was nil.

It ripped into his left bicep.

The flashlight tumbled.

The cave went dark.

Hope (The Winger Chronicles: Part 8)

Liv passed beneath the pendulum and felt her way around the dark room while Winger tended to his injured arm. Her fingers landed on a protrusion- cold and metal. Her hands quickly teased out its shape.

When she realized the object was a ladder, she looked up and saw a glimmer of hope in the form of a white ball of light high above- no less than a quarter mile. The sound of far off waves crashing brought a smile to her lips.

“There’s a ladder!”

Winger knotted the bandage with his free hand and gritted teeth. “Up or down?”

Going Up? (The Winger Chronicles: Part 9)

The exit mocked and teased from high above. The top of the ladder sat bathed in bright light and descended quickly into the abyss- a daunting, endless string of rungs. His fingers found the nearest and locked on. His weight shifted onto the ladder. His face contorted in a pained wince as fire coursed through his bandaged arm.

He dropped off the ladder and unslung his pack. Even in the dark, he made quick work of tying a cord of rope into a makeshift harness.

He offered the other end to Liv. “Know how to tie a bowline?”

“A what?”

The Climb (The Winger Chronicles: Part 10)

Thunder rumbled overhead.

Halfway up the rain began. It started as drizzle but quickly morphed into a downpour. The drizzle had felt amazing on her face after spending an indeterminate amount of time in the cave. The heavier rain brought with it only problems.

The metal rungs became near impossible to grip as the water transformed the rust into slippery goo. The cold drops soaked her to the bone and sent chills running across her body.

Every time her father moved up, the rope around her waist tugged down.

Her aching arms struggled to hang on let alone keep going.

Broken (The Winger Chronicles : Part 11)

The slippery rung dug into her armpit. Her fingers clung to her jeans to lock her body against the ladder.

She didn’t move upward again until the orange-brown goo had hardened back into a crusty coating. Even still, her aching hands had trouble gripping the rungs.

As she reached for the next hold, her foot slid from its place below. Tipping backward she screamed. Her fingers grasped at the empty air.

The rope went taut and threatened to pull Winger from the ladder as well. Painful fire radiated from his injured arm, but his grip never wavered.

Below, she cried.