Mr. Mercedes

The Bachman Books

The Regulators

Blaze

NON-FICTION:

Danse Macabre

On Writing (A Memoir of the Craft)

MR MERCEDES

A Novel

Stephen King

www.hodder.co.uk

Lyrics from ‘Kisses on the Midway’

(written by Stephen King and Shooter Je

used by permission of Bad Nineteen Music, copyright 2012

First published in Great Britain in 2014 by Hodder & Stoughton

An Hachette UK company

Copyright © 2014 by Stephen King

The right of Stephen King to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead is purely coincidental

A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library

ISBN 978 1 444 78866 2

Hodder & Stoughton Ltd

338 Euston Road

London NW1 3BH

www.hodder.co.uk

Thinking of James M. Cain

They threw me off the hay truck about noon …

GRAY MERCEDES

April 9 – 10, 2009

Augie Odenkirk had a 1997 Datsun that still ran well in spite of high mileage, but gas was expensive, especially for a man with no job, and City Center was on the far side of town, so he decided to take the last bus of the night. He got off at twenty past eleven with his pack on his back and his rolled-up sleeping bag under one arm. He thought he would be glad of the down-filled bag by three A.M. The night was misty and chill.

‘Good luck, man,’ the driver said as he stepped down. ‘You ought to get something for just being the first one there.’

Only he wasn’t. When Augie reached the top of the wide, steep drive leading to the big auditorium, he saw a cluster of at least two dozen people already waiting outside the rank of doors, some standing, most sitting. Posts strung with yellow DO NOT CROSS tape had been set up, creating a complicated passage that doubled back on itself, mazelike. Augie was familiar with these from movie theaters and the bank where he was currently overdrawn, and understood the purpose: to cram as many people as possible into as small a space as possible.

As he approached the end of what would soon be a conga-line of job applicants, Augie was both amazed and dismayed to see that the woman at the end of the line had a sleeping baby in a Papoose carrier. The baby’s cheeks were flushed with the cold; each exhale came with a faint rattle.

The woman heard Augie’s slightly out-of-breath approach, and turned. She was young and pretty enough, even with the dark circles under her eyes. At her feet was a small quilted carry-case. Augie supposed it was a baby support system.

‘Hi,’ she said. ‘Welcome to the Early Birds Club.’

‘Hopefully we’ll catch a worm.’ He debated, thought what the hell, and stuck out his hand. ‘August Odenkirk. Augie. I was recently downsized. That’s the twenty-first-century way of saying I got ca

She shook with him. She had a good grip, firm and not a bit timid. ‘I’m Janice Cray, and my little bundle of joy is Patti. I guess I got downsized, too. I was a housekeeper for a nice family in Sugar Heights. He, um, owns a car dealership.’

Augie winced.

Janice nodded. ‘I know. He said he was sorry to let me go, but they had to tighten their belts.’

‘A lot of that going around,’ Augie said, thinking: You could find no one to babysit? No one at all?

‘I had to bring her.’ He supposed Janice Cray didn’t have to be much of a mind reader to know what he was thinking. ‘There’s no one else. Literally no one. The girl down the street couldn’t stay all night even if I could pay her, and I just can’t. If I don’t get a job, I don’t know what we’ll do.’

‘Your parents couldn’t take her?’ Augie asked.

‘They live in Vermont. If I had half a brain, I’d take Patti and go there. It’s pretty. Only they’ve got their own problems. Dad says their house is underwater. Not literally, they’re not in the river or anything, it’s something financial.’

Augie nodded. There was a lot of that going around, too.

A few cars were coming up the steep rise from Marlborough Street, where Augie had gotten off the bus. They turned left, into the vast empty plain of parking lot that would no doubt be full by daylight tomorrow … still hours before the First A

‘If I can get a job, I can get a sitter,’ she said. ‘But for tonight, me and Patti just gotta suck it up.’