Raindrops
Quicksilvre
Note: I own not the O.C. nor am I affiliated with Warner Bros., McG, Josh Schwartz, or anyone else associated with the show. There was a Josh Schwartz in my Stat class one year, but that's it. (No, not the same one.) Also, some objectionable language may appear later. I've always imaged Summer as potentially potty-mouthed. This is my first fanfic since a Gundam campaign two years ago, so if this is all crap, sorry in advance.
"Summer, you gotta get to the casa right now. I don't know what you were doing in LA but–"
"Cohen, I told you. It's my JOB."
"Ohh. Well, uh, report? US History? You know, that one we were doing together? We need to sorta get that done." An awkward pause, the kind Seth was good at making. "But, hey, job's nice too, what are you making?"
"Cohen." Summer Roberts had the worst job in the entire world: casino work. Three days a week, four hours a day, she dealt seven card stud. Half her existence was dealing with balding, overweight men begging for a queen or a heart, dammit.
"You do see how it is raining out there, right?"
"I know, but–"
"No no no. You look out the window. Get Chino if that's too hard. It! Is! Raining!" Indeed, a rare rainstorm had swept into Southern California that morning, and the sheets of rain had fallen since, making travel treacherous. The shoulder was already dotted with spun-out cars. "No, Cohen, do this instead. Listen. No, just listen." Summer rolled down the window of her Trailblazer and stuck her arm and the cell phone out into the roar of the elements. Thunder boomed a distance away. "Do you hear that Cohen? Do you?"
Horns honked behind her. Noticing the light had turned, Summer hit the accelerator and withdrew her hand back into her car. "It's called a storm, Cohen."
"Summer, just...get over here. And be careful too. You got all-wheel drive on?"
She checked the dashboard, pretending to look for it. "It is now."
"You don't even know what I just said, do you?"
"As if you do."
"Well...yeah! Really!"
"Cohen, I'll be there. Let me get home and change first though, I'm still in my uniform."
"All right. Like, how long will it be?"
"Half an hour."
"Excellent! Have dinner here too."
"Takeout again?"
"Chinese."
"Keep a dumpling warm if I'm late."
"Will do, Sum."
Summer clicked off the phone and rolled the window the rest of the way up. Great. The wind was growing worse and had blown plenty of water into the cabin. The whole left side of her face had a thin sheen of water. "Grrr." She tried shaking some off, but to no avail. She needed a hair dryer, stat.
It seemed, though, that she was the only person in the whole state that even noticed the rain; traffic was still going down the freeway at seventy miles an hour. A craptastic Yugo, trying to make the exit, cut in front of her perilously. Honking the horn, Summer got the driver's attention and flashed a gesture while mouthing, Moron!! The day at work was bad enough. The guy in seat four had spent a half-hour trying to look down the front of her blouse and two players spilled drinks on the deck. She desperately needed a shower, just to wash the day away.
The screech of failing breaks snapped her back into attention. Four cars were piled up in her lane, the left lane. Gasping, Summer turned the wheel hard right, making the back of her car fly up and spin out. She flew down the road, bounced off of the knot of wrecked cars, and skidded off the road to the right, stopping in a drainage ditch. The car was intact, mostly, though its sides had buckled and every window was broken.
"Gah...gah gah...." Summer sat trembling, her breath coming in dry sobs. A whimper rose in her throat, but caught somewhere. Everything went dark for a moment, then a moment of tunnel vision. In front of her was a smashed windshield, a bent steering wheel.
A few seconds later, the horn of an eighteen-wheeler deafened her, and the last thing Summer Roberts saw in the world was the undercarriage of the enormous vehicle coming down upon her. The ceiling came down upon her, wedging her head on top of the wheel and her body between the seat and the dash. She screamed, but she had already lost all sight. For a few moments she could feel her body slowly get crushed and ripped apart, but soon she felt nothing. For a little bit longer, she could smell the rain, and spilling gasoline, but in a few minutes, her body had no more life than a damp rag.