Archive for the 'Craig’s Novels' Category

September 22, 2015

Tooth and Nail by Craig DiLouieI would like to invite you to join me for a special online event. In it, you will have the opportunity to creatively experience the dire events of my novel TOOTH AND NAIL. The event will take the form of a role-playing game, meaning that you will be able to decide the actions of your own character reacting interactively to the story as it evolves.

If you aren’t sure how role-playing games work, rest assured that the event will be very friendly to newcomers. And everything you need to know will be explained beforehand. The event itself will be held on Sunday, October 11 from 12PM to 3PM Pacific Time. Registration for the event is closing soon. If you have any questions (about the event, role-playing, or otherwise) please email

There is a $60 fee that will go towards helping the event organizer,, host this and future events with both myself and other authors.

I hope to get to see you at the game!

Click here to sign up. Basically, you’re contributing to’s fund-raising campaign, and then select “Game with Craig DiLouie” as your perk.

August 24, 2015

THE INFECTION WARMy zombie novels THE INFECTION and its sequel THE KILLING FLOOR, two of Permuted Press’s most successful titles, are back in Permuted Platinum and slated for release as INFECTION WAR: BOOKS I & II through bookstores everywhere January 19, 2016.

Permuted Platinum is a program delivering select Permuted titles to distribution through retail stores like Barnes & Noble. The titles were originally slated for release this year but were dropped. After some conversations with the company’s ownership, they’re back in.

I’m really excited about this release. The books went through a thorough edit and polish for the new edition, and with distribution through Permuted’s partner Simon & Schuster, they’ll be available to many new readers.

As for a third book, I’ve got a stack of projects in front of it, but I’m hoping to revisit the brutal world of THE INFECTION in the future. Stay tuned.

Thanks, Permuted Press!

August 7, 2015

I was happy to see SUFFER THE CHILDREN be read as Book #8 in the NIAFABO blog’s 100-book reading challenge:

“An interesting take on the zombie/vampire apocalypse story. DiLouie’s story had a clear voice, and even though you knew where the story was headed, you found yourself hoping that somehow things would turn around. The way that the parents and society seemed to deteriorate along with the innocence and humanity of the children was chilling and compelling. The book asked the question of just how far parents would be willing to go for their children and their families, and it did not disappoint … Ultimately satisfying.”

Thanks for that review! Click here to read it.

July 29, 2015

Coming soon! My first foray into historical fantasy. Tons of fun to write and, I hope, to read.

July 17, 2015

Kwips & Kritiques recently reviewed SUFFER THE CHILDREN, writing, “Craig DiLouie has put a new spin on the vampire legend, crafting a tale that exemplifies horror at its finest … If you are looking for a creepy thriller sure to provoke nightmares, then SUFFER THE CHILDREN is right up your alley! Highly recommended!”

Thank you for your kind review!

Click here to read the complete review.

July 3, 2015

Dee’s Book Blog recently reviewed the audiobook edition of SUFFER THE CHILDREN (narrated by the great RC Bray), writing, “It is very rare that I need to pause listening to a book mid-way through for a mental break, but Craig DiLouie’ SUFFER THE CHILDREN made me do just that … I was so invested in what happened to the different characters that hearing what happened to them made me sit in my car in shock for a good 20 minutes one day.”

It’s the first book review I’ve gotten that included a public health warning that the novel will induce nightmares. As a horror author, I’ll take that as a badge of honor.

Check out the complete review here.

May 13, 2015


Fortress Rabaul. The lion’s den. A hub of merchant shipping that was the lifeblood of an empire that controlled one-tenth of the world. Home of the Imperial Japanese Navy’s Eighth Fleet.

Located on the northeastern tip of New Britain, the town had been built in a sunken caldera along the natural anchorage of Simpson Harbor. Forested mountains loomed beyond the town. Vulcan Volcano smoked in the western jungle.

Before the Japanese came, the island had been an Australian territory. Australian units had been sent to fight in North Africa, leaving the garrison depleted. The Japanese landed in January 1942, swept aside the defenders, and hunted them down in the jungle. Then they turned the town into an impregnable land, air, and naval base ringed by artillery and anti-aircraft guns.

The captain studied the harbor defenses through the periscope and whistled at the view. His officers eyed him anxiously.

“All ahead one-third,” he said. “Steady as she goes.”

The S-55 crept as close to the mouth of Simpson Harbor as Kane dared take her.

“I see a lot of ships tied up,” he observed. “What do you think, Reynolds? They’re all lined up in a row, like sitting ducks. Maybe we should go in there and take them out.”

“I was thinking, we could skirt around—”

“I was joking, Reynolds.”

Entering the harbor would be suicide. Assuming the S-55 could navigate the minefields without being blown out of the water, she’d have to stay out of contact of roaming patrol boats. Then she’d be in shallow waters—clearly visible and with nowhere to dive deep to escape.

They’d just have to wait until some ships came out.

The problem was they only had enough fuel and provisions for four days before they had to turn back for Brisbane. They had no idea when a ship might emerge from the harbor mouth. It might be hours, it might be days, maybe even weeks.

“It’s too bad,” Kane said. “I can see the meatballs on their sides.” Japanese naval insignia, a blood-red sun on a white field. “Makes a nice target.”

Sound waves thudded against the hull. Distant booms.

The men glanced at each other.

“MacArthur’s bombers,” the captain said. “It’s raining hell up there. The B-17s are stirring up the hornets’ nest. I see Zeros flying everywhere. Down scope. Helm, right full rudder.”

“Right full rudder,” answered the helmsman. He turned the wheel.

“I wonder how they like having bombs dropped on their heads,” Rusty said.

“Come to east,” Kane ordered. “Maintain speed. All compartments, stand by to dive.”

He was turning the boat around. The S-55 was visible from the air, and although the Zeros were preoccupied with the bombers overhead, Kane was wisely avoiding any risk of detection. He didn’t want the Japanese to know he was there until his first torpedo hit.

More than that, he wanted to get as far away from the bombing as possible. The B-17 “flying fortresses” weren’t precision weapons; they dropped big sledgehammers from eighteen thousand feet. It would be in keeping with Frankie’s luck to have come all this way to the lion’s den only to be sunk by an errant five-hundred-pound bomb made in the U.S.A.

“Dive. Eighty feet. Battery, how much juice do we have in the can?”

The hull vibrated with booms thudding in rapid succession.

The telephone talker relayed the battery room’s answer. The captain nodded, satisfied.

“All ahead flank.”

The submarine glided across Blanche Bay to safer waters.

The captain clapped Charlie on the shoulder. “Wait and hurry up, Harrison.”

“Yes, sir,” Charlie said with a smile.

He felt the same excitement that infected the rest of the crew, who imagined returning to base with a broom tied to the shears and several meatballs painted on the hull.

The broom signified a “clean sweep,” a patrol in which all torpedoes were fired. The meatball insignia were brags of ships sunk.

He didn’t think they’d have to wait much longer. The bombing was likely to get the Japanese thinking about accelerating departure schedules. Ships might be on the move soon.

The S-55 would reach Duke of York Island by nightfall. There, her engines would recharge the battery. Then the old sea wolf would become a hunter. And return to Simpson Harbor …

Want to read more? Get CRASH DIVE for Kindle here.

May 10, 2015

What a great con! The World Horror Convention is my favorite event of the year. I loved reconnecting with friends and making new ones. So fun. I roomed with John Dixon (author of PHOENIX ISLAND), which was hilarious and included many late night chess games.

Last night, I was in stitches as the 2014 Bram Stoker Awards were announced. I had the honor of seeing SUFFER THE CHILDREN nominated in a very strong field. (Thanks to you all for your best wishes!) Congrats to Steve Rasnic Tem for winning Superior Achievement in a Novel! And congrats to all the other winners!

Here’s the list:

Superior Achievement in a NOVEL
Blood Kin by Steve Rasnic Tem (Solaris Books)

Superior Achievement in a FIRST NOVEL
Mr. Wicker by Maria Alexander (Raw Dog Screaming Press)

Superior Achievement in a YOUNG ADULT NOVEL
Phoenix Island by John Dixon (Simon & Schuster/Gallery Books)

Superior Achievement in a GRAPHIC NOVEL
Bad Blood by Jonathan Maberry (Dark Horse Books)

Superior Achievement in LONG FICTION
“Fishing for Dinosaurs” by Joe R. Lansdale (Limbus, Inc., Book II, JournalStone)

Superior Achievement in SHORT FICTION (tie)
“The Vaporization Enthalpy of a Peculiar Pakistani Family” by Usman T. Malik (Qualia Nous, Written Backwards)
“Ruminations” by Rena Mason (Qualia Nous, Written Backwards)

Superior Achievement in a SCREENPLAY
The Babadook by Jennifer Kent (Causeway Films)

Superior Achievement in an ANTHOLOGY
Fearful Symmetries edited by Ellen Datlow (ChiZine Publications)

Superior Achievement in a FICTION COLLECTION
Soft Apocalypses by Lucy A. Snyder (Raw Dog Screaming Press)

Superior Achievement in NON-FICTION
Shooting Yourself in the Head For Fun and Profit: A Writer’s Survival Guide by Lucy A. Snyder (Post Mortem Press)

Superior Achievement in a POETRY COLLECTION
Forgiving Judas by Tom Piccirilli (Crossroad Press)

April 30, 2015

The Horror Writers Association has published a series of interviews of this year’s Bram Stoker Award nominees on its website. I’m proud to have participated, as my novel, SUFFER THE CHILDREN, was nominated for Best Novel.

Click here to read my interview, where I talk about the book, its influences, and how I put it together. Also be sure to click here to see similar interviews with the other nominees.

April 28, 2015


Brisbane, Australia.

October, 1942.

Charlie Harrison was going to war.

He walked onto the busy New Farm Wharf, sea bag over his shoulder and a spring in his step. He fidgeted, six feet of coiled energy. Then he shook it off, determined to appear cool in case anybody was watching.

He’d worked hard to get here. Naval Academy, class of ’39. He’d served as a lieutenant, junior-grade on a destroyer, steaming up and down the Atlantic for nearly three years. After the Japanese surprise attack against Pearl electrified America, he’d gotten caught up in the war fever and put in for a transfer. He didn’t want to spend the war playing cat and mouse with German U-boats. He didn’t want to play defense; he wanted to take the fight to the enemy. The Navy approved his transfer, and he attended the Submarine School in New London, Connecticut.

Now he stood on the eastern coast of Australia, ready to report to his new command.

He found the S-55 and another submarine, the S-37, tied to a tender—a big repair and support ship. Men labored among an assortment of hoses, welding lines and other gear to ready the submarines for sea. Sparks sprayed from the welding.

God, but she was ugly. Nothing like the USS Kennedy, his old destroyer with her clean lines, smokestacks, and guns. The S-55 was just a long black cylinder with a short conning tower jutting over her and a single four-inch gun on her deck. Built by the Electric Boat Company in 1922, she was one of the last boats of the Great War era.

He’d hoped for love at first sight, but she inspired neither affection nor admiration.

Two hundred twenty feet long and twenty feet wide at the beam. A complement of a dozen torpedoes, which she launched from four tubes in the bow. Forty officers and crew.

She’d seen some heavy fighting. The conning tower wore a patchwork of welded gray plates—scars of some past action.

In that submarine, he’d live ass to elbow in a cramped, dingy, smelly metal machine under the water for weeks at a time. Cramped, hot, and smelly, the S-class submarines were called “pigboats” by the sailors who fought in them. Charlie had trained on an even-older R-class submarine in New London and had gotten a taste of it.

He’d heard a depth charge attack was like being in an earthquake—a quake that could break the hull and send the boat straight to the bottom.

It was a hell of a way to fight a war. The S-55, his new home, could end up being his coffin. Living in a submarine took a special kind of man. Those who didn’t cut it were put ashore and left there. He wondered if he was as able as he was willing. If he had the right stuff.

Looking at his new home, his romantic ideas about taking the fight to the enemy became real. For the first time, he wondered if he’d made a mistake.

Too late to back out now. He steeled himself to report to the deck watch, who stood on the gangway with a .45 on his hip. Then an apparition in oilskins, gas mask, and thick rubber gloves emerged from the conning tower and descended to the deck. Carrying a metal tank and coiled Flit gun, he stomped down the gangway onto the pier.

He spotted Charlie and lowered his gas mask, revealing the grinning face of a man about his own age. He said, “You wouldn’t believe it.”

“Believe what?”

“How many cockroaches I just put out of my misery. We’re talking millions.”

“Did you get Hitler?”

The sailor laughed. “No such luck, brother. You our new junior officer?”

“That’s right.” Charlie looked up at the scarred conning tower. “When’s she going back out on patrol?”

“When she’s ready, I suppose. This geriatric tub needs a lot of love.”

“I’d like you to take me to see the captain then, if you’re able.”

The man grinned again. “I’ll be happy to do that. You got a name, sailor?”

“Lieutenant, j-g Charles Harrison.”

“Welcome to the 55, Charlie. I’m Lieutenant Russell Grady, but you can call me Rusty.”

Charlie started at that. Rusty was his senior. Charlie should have saluted. Instead, he’d ordered the man to take him to the captain.

Rusty held out his hand. Charlie shook it, grateful for the warm welcome.

He hadn’t expected to see an officer doing an enlisted man’s duties. It was his first lesson in submarines. Everybody, officers and crew alike, did their share of the dirty work. On the S-55, as the saying went, they were all in the same boat.

Charlie realized that, despite all of his schooling, he still had a lot to learn. He also thought, if even half of the crew was like Rusty, he’d feel right at home on the old S-55.

Want to read more? Get CRASH DIVE for Kindle here.