To Sail a Darkling Sea Read online

  Table of Contents

  WELCOME TO WOLF SQUADRON!

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  CHAPTER 21

  CHAPTER 22

  CHAPTER 23

  CHAPTER 24

  CHAPTER 25

  CHAPTER 26

  CHAPTER 27

  CHAPTER 28

  CHAPTER 29

  CHAPTER 30

  CHAPTER 31

  EPILOGUE

  A World Cloaked in Darkness

  With human civilization annihilated by a biological zombie plague, a rag-tag fleet of yachts and freighters known as Wolf Squadron scours the Atlantic, searching for survivors. Within every abandoned liner and carrier lurks a potential horde, safety can never be taken for granted, and death and turning into one of the enemy is only a moment away.

  The Candle Flickers

  Yet every ship and town holds the flickering hope of survivors. One and two from lifeboats, a dozen from a fishing village, a few hundred wrenched by fury and fire from a ship that once housed thousands...

  Light a Flame

  Now Wolf Squadron must take on another massive challenge: clear the assault carrier USS Iwo Jima of infected before the trapped Marines and sailors succumb to starvation. If Wolf Squadron can accomplish that task, an even tougher trial awaits: an apocalyptic battle to win a new dawn for humanity. The war for civilization begins as the boats of the Wolf Squadron become a beacon of hope on a Darkling Sea.

  BAEN BOOKS by JOHN RINGO

  BLACK TIDE RISING:

  Under a Graveyard Sky • To Sail a Darkling Sea • Islands of Rage and Hope (forthcoming)

  TROY RISING:

  Live Free or Die • Citadel • The Hot Gate

  LEGACY OF THE ALDENATA:

  A Hymn Before Battle • Gust Front • When the Devil Dances • Hell’s Faire • The Hero (with Michael Z. Williamson) • Cally’s War (with Julie Cochrane) • Watch on the Rhine (with Tom Kratman) • Sister Time (with Julie Cochrane) • Yellow Eyes (with Tom Kratman) • Honor of the Clan (with Julie Cochrane) • Eye of the Storm

  COUNCIL WARS:

  There Will Be Dragons • Emerald Sea • Against the Tide • East of the Sun, West of the Moon

  INTO THE LOOKING GLASS:

  Into the Looking Glass • Vorpal Blade (with Travis S. Taylor) • Manxome Foe (with Travis S. Taylor) • Claws that Catch (with Travis S. Taylor)

  EMPIRE OF MAN:

  March to the Sea (with David Weber) • March to the Stars (with David Weber) • March Upcountry (with David Weber) • We Few (with David Weber) • Empire of Man (with David Weber, omnibus, forthcoming)

  SPECIAL CIRCUMSTANCES:

  Princess of Wands • Queen of Wands

  PALADIN OF SHADOWS:

  Ghost • Kildar • Choosers of the Slain • Unto the Breach • A Deeper Blue • Tiger by the Tail (with Ryan Sear)

  STANDALONE TITLES:

  The Last Centurion

  Citizens (ed. with Brian M. Thomsen)

  To Sail a Darkling Sea

  This is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental.

  Copyright ©2014 by John Ringo

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form.

  A Baen Books Original

  Baen Publishing Enterprises

  P.O. Box 1403

  Riverdale, NY 10471

  www.baen.com

  ISBN: 978-1-4767-3621-1

  Cover art by Kurt Miller

  First Baen printing, February 2014

  Distributed by Simon & Schuster

  1230 Avenue of the Americas

  New York, NY 10020

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  Pages by Joy Freeman

  Printed in the United States of America

  As always

  For Captain Tamara Long, USAF

  Born: May 12, 1979

  Died: March 23, 2003, Afghanistan

  You fly with the angels now.

  Once upon a night we’ll wake to the carnival of life

  The beauty of this ride ahead such an incredible high

  It’s hard to light a candle, easy to curse the dark instead

  This moment the dawn of humanity

  The last ride of the day

  “Last Ride of the Day”

  Nightwish

  Imaginaerum

  WELCOME TO WOLF SQUADRON!

  Wolf Squadron is an international volunteer search and rescue organization formed subsequent to most world governments falling in the face of the H7D3 “zombie” plague. Wolf Squadron is based around the megayacht Social Alpha, formerly owned by the late internet billionaire Mike Mickerberg, founder of Spacebook, and includes as of this writing over twenty small craft as well as the oceanic supply ship Grace Tan.

  Wolf Squadron was founded by Steven John “Wolf” Smith, a naturalized American citizen, former Australian Army paratrooper and former high school history teacher. Mr. Smith and his family, Stacey “Momma Wolf,” Sophia “Seawolf” and Faith “Shewolf” Smith began clearing boats and rescuing people just like yourself starting a mere two weeks after the cessation of broadcasts from the British Broadcasting System. As of the date of this pamphlet’s production, four hundred and twenty-six persons have been rescued at sea including U.S. Army, Navy, Marine and Coast Guard personnel, with over one hundred and sixty coming from the cruise ship, Voyage Under Stars alone. Most rescuees have agreed to join in on the effort and we hope you will too!

  Currently there are no land areas beyond desert and barren islands unoccupied by the infected. There are three known remaining governmental headquarters (USA: Strategic Armaments Command; Russia: Strategic Rockets Command; China: 4th Strategic Military Command) as well as a small contingent of the CDC. If you are American, the National Constitutional Continuity Coordinator (see below: “What is the NCCC?”) is Under Secretary Frank Galloway, who maintains a continuity of civilian control of the U.S. military. All of the headquarters personnel are uninfected and therefore must remain in their secure facilities due to the hazard of infected. Similarly, the submarines you may occasionally see or have seen surfaced are also uninfected and cannot open up until a source of vaccine can be obtained.

  Here are a few frequently asked questions:

  Q: “Something” happened (rape, murder of noninfected human, incest, pedophilia, homosexual activity, “I’m pregnant by a guy I slept with after he killed my husband who had just turned into a zombie,” etc.) when I was trapped in a compartment/on a lifeboat/life raft/small boat, etc.

  A. “What happened in the compartment, stays in the compartment.” If you feel you are in a state of threat from a person, relay this to your sponsor and you will be separated from that person. However, Wolf Squadron has no jurisdiction over actions taken prior to your contact with Wolf Squadron, and given the difficulties with prosecuting such issues, will only act to separate you from any perceived threat. If actions occurred in a compartment or lifeboat that fall under Uniform Code of Military Justice (including but not limited to sexual activity of a heterosexual or homosexual nature and/or sexual relations between junior and senior and/or disrespect for authority or any other vi
olation of the UCMJ or standing orders) they are generally held under the same guidelines as agreed upon by the current NCCC and the current JCS. (Post-Fall DOD Regulation Nineteen.) Subsequent to rescue, military personnel are still under the UCMJ and there is a permanent “stop-loss” in place on all Military Occupational Specialties. As to issues that are not of a legal nature, what happened in the compartment, stays in the compartment. . . .

  * * *

  “Reloading!”

  SSG Gregory “Janu” Januscheitis scrabbled for magazines in the red-lit compartment and realized he was down to only two loaded mags. And while his assault ruck had two books and a bunch of Copenhagen, it was also fresh out of ammo.

  “I’m out!” Lance Corporal Derek D. Douglas shouted. “And I cannot get this damned hatch shut!” The tall and rugged corporal was pressing hard against the door but the infecteds had their arms through it and it wasn’t going to dog.

  Condition Zebra, which shut all the watertight doors of the Iwo Jima, had been set as soon as the H7D3 infection started to rampage through the ship. But then the “dual expressor” virus changed from a simple flu to a “neurological affector blood pathogen.” And lockdown only worked as long as you weren’t battling fucking zombies, which you had to when one second your Alpha Team sergeant is laying down fire and the next he’s stripping off his clothes and howling.

  Then the abandon ship call went out from the acting captain and the doors pretty much all got opened.

  J’s squad wasn’t even close when the call went out. The boats were gone.

  Running out of ammo and with no hope of getting topside they’d taken the next best route: head for the big food stores of the assault ship and try to hole up. If they could find them and if they could fight their way through the zombies.

  “Leave it!” he called from the next hatch. “Hug left!”

  Januscheitis was an airman, not an infantryman like Smitty, but multiple tours in the Sandbox when he’d been in support of “advanced air ops” had really ratcheted up the basic “every Marine a rifleman” thing.

  “Aye, aye!” Douglas called. He let go of the hatch and slammed back against the bulkhead, shuffling down the corridor as fast as he could while keeping his back to the port bulkhead.

  J and Lance Corporal David Toback began slow, aimed fire at the infecteds pouring through the hatch. The reason they were firing so carefully was that bouncers in the confined spaces of a ship were as much of a problem as infecteds. They’d lost two squad members when they were wounded by bouncers, then overrun by the fucking zombies.

  “He’s not going to make it,” Toback said.

  “Check fire,” J shouted. “Dive, Derek, dive! Crawl!”

  As soon as the corporal hit the deck, J switched to full auto, ripping out the remnants of his magazine. As the corporal slithered across the coaming, the staff sergeant tossed his last frag into the corridor and slammed the hatch shut. There was a dull thump and a pinging on the door followed by howling.

  “Where the fuck are we?” Toback asked.

  “Four tack 157 tack two tack lima,” Januscheitis said. “The stores compartment with the water spigot is two compartments aft and one deck down.” He pointed in the general direction. He had a bump for direction which had so far helped them survive. Helped.

  “We got more this way,” Douglas said from the far hatch.

  “Frags?” Januscheitis said.

  “One,” Toback said, holding it up.

  “Well, what are you waiting for?” Januscheitis said.

  * * *

  “Got nothing this way?” Derek said from the next corridor hatch. “Not close, anyway.”

  “If the frag didn’t attract them, noth—” Januscheitis broke off as a compartment hatch undogged.

  The Navy fireman at the hatch found himself the target of three M4s. He carefully raised his hands.

  “Friend?” he said carefully.

  “Talking, at least,” Januscheitis said, lowering his M4. “You know a shortcut to five tack 159 tack two tack alpha?”

  “No,” the fireman said. “But we were headed to a dry stores compartment that’s got a desal line.”

  “One deck down?” Smitty asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “That would be five tack 159 tack two tack alpha,” Januscheitis said drily. Navy. “Wait. We?”

  * * *

  With almost no ammo left, fighting their way through the zombies while escorting three Navy pogues was going to be a right bitch. And one of them was a split. Depending on how long they were trapped belowdecks . . . That could get to be even more of a bitch.

  “Clear?” Toback said, listening at the hatch.

  “It is or it isn’t,” J said, hefting his M4. He had six rounds left. Then it was melee time. You could melee the zombies. Problem was, avoiding getting bit. The fireman, actually a helo handler, had duded up in bunker gear, which made sense. The split, a cook, and the other pogue, a storesman, were just in NavCams. “Time to find out.”

  It wasn’t. But the fact that there was firing from somewhere on the far side had drawn the infecteds off.

  There were about ten of the infecteds facing the attackers. But it sounded like the other guys were about as down on rounds as J’s remaining team. As he listened, they went from three guns firing to two then one. On the other hand, they’d cut down on the zombies.

  “Open fire,” J said, firing carefully. The M4s were supposedly designed to wound. They were, in fact, just absolutely awesome at wounding infecteds. And the nudist bastards would eventually bleed out. Eventually. He’d gotten sick and tired of that fighting hajis who got hit and just kept coming. It was getting absolutely infuriating with the infecteds. They just, like, shrugged the damned rounds off unless you got a head shot. They weren’t “undead,” just infected, insane and naked. But the bitty little .223 round of the M4s just barely seemed to faze them.

  Unless they had their back to you and you shot two of the last four in the head. The other two were engaged in melee with the group at the far hatch and he wasn’t willing to try it.

  A crowbar wielded by a sergeant did for the last two.

  “Thank you, Staff Sergeant,” the sergeant of the new team said. He had two Marines and another pogue.

  “Semper Fi, Sergeant,” J said. “Any rounds in your pack?”

  “Air, Staff Sergeant. We are clocked out. Got cut off, trying to make the boats . . .”

  “Same,” J said. “Trying to find a storeroom.”

  “Ditto,” the sergeant said. “Any clues where one is?”

  “Down one more deck,” the split said.

  “And back a compartment from the ladder,” J said, pointing to the hatch. “Bets on what’s down there? Frags?”

  “I’ve got one left,” one of the new privates said, pulling off his pack.

  “And they say never use frags on a ship,” J said, holding out his hand. “Gimme.”

  * * *

  “What’s the status on the storage compartment?” J said, tossing his useless M4 on one of the infected bodies in the corridor. Useless both in that they had no remaining rounds and in that he’d bent it on an infected’s head. On the other hand, he’d avoided getting bitten. As had become patently obvious, that didn’t mean you wouldn’t zombie. It just meant you weren’t guaranteed to zombie. Anybody bitten went in about six hours.

  There were infecteds at both ends of the corridor, closed away by the watertight hatches. So far, they couldn’t seem to open them but he was going to tie the damned things down just in case. It looked as if they were going to be here for a long time. There had better be food stores and water.

  “There’s a fresh water line, Staff Sergent,” Sergeant Christopher L. “Smitty” Smith said. “According to one of the pogues, we’re below the level of the fresh water tanks, so it should gravity feed. And about a gazillion tons of stores. But no way to cook them.”

  “Cooking is so far down the list of problems we’ve got, it’s not even in sight,” Janusche
itis said. “First things first while we’ve got light is a quick assembly. . . .”

  * * *

  “Before we even get with getting a roster,” Januscheitis said, “who’s got para cord?” He pulled a coil of it out of his assault ruck.

  “Here.” “Here.” “Here . . .”

  Pretty much all the Marines had at least some of the strong, thin line.

  “Right,” Januscheitis said. “First we’re all going to strip. And, yes, that includes you, Seaman . . . ?”

  “Gowen,” the cook said. “Seaman Tonya Gowen, Staff Sergeant.”

  “We wash down,” Januscheitis said. “We’ve all been exposed to not only the fucking flu but at this point the blood pathogen. Then do a bite check. Bites, cuts, abrasions, anything. I’ve got some betadine. Then back into light uniform. As soon as we’re done, we’re all going to secure ourselves.”

  “Secure?” one of the pogues said.

  “Tied up,” Januscheitis said. “At the ankles at the least. And we’re all going to put in gags. And, no, I’m not being kinky. If we’d done this early on, half the bites we sustained, especially when sleeping, wouldn’t have happened—”

  “I sure as hell am not going to—” the petty officer started to say then growled and started tearing at his clothing.