Raindrops
Quicksilvre
Warning: I own nothing associated with The O.C., but, thanks to the Fair Use Act of 1975, no one can touch me for this. Ha ha ha.
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The light on the other side of the gate was bright–painfully so for Summer, who did her best to shield her eyes with her arm. It hardly made any difference; it was so bright the rays went right through. She could see two perfect arm bones, inside her body. The light made it, and everything else, as transparent as a window.
I wish I brought sunscreen.
Summer continued to walk forward. Her manner was far calmer than those around her–some were dancing, chanting, running forward, sure that they were going to get a just reward for the time they spent on earth. Others were trying to back away and go back through the gate, weeping. The guards, all armed with whips, had to keep half the crowd from stampeding in the wrong direction.
The end was near–maybe fifty yards ahead. Summer had both her arm in front of her face and her eyelids clamped shut, but even then, there was that penetrating white light. She groaned, ducked her head down, and started a slow jog.
Oh, please let this be it. Please let this be it. She took the vest from her uniform off and wrapped it around her head–it added a little bit of comfort, but not much. God, just...turn this down a notch, would you? Do you want to blind everyone?
Abruptly the ground under her stopped, and Summer fell down–but not far, just a few feet before she landed on what felt like a huge pillow. The light faded.
"Wha..."
Before she could say anything or remove her blinders, an authoritative voice barked out, "Summer Roberts of Newport Beach, California, you have arrived to the gate. Please hang on; it is a smooth ride from here to trial but the flight is perilous. Keep your hands and feet on the cloud at all times."
"What–cloud? Wait a second, bucko, I didn't agree to this." She peeled her vest off and threw it away. It flew off the edge of the cloud, down to the...it was too high up to see if there was a ground beneath her. The cloud itself was tiny, only a bit bigger than a beanbag chair, and as soft and fluffy as one would expect. It was attached by a cable to another one, which held a gentleman in a smart steward's uniform and a steering wheel.
"That is not necessary, all those who pass through here are dropped, picked up, processed, tried, and sent to their ultimate fate." He looked back at Summer. He didn't seem to her to be a satanic minion, but he hardly looked cherubic, either. He looked like he could be a regular at Summer's table.
"I want to go back."
"Not my decision. Just doing my job, miss."
Summer sighed and started to argue, but then realized she didn't have any idea what to say. "Well, fine, who are you?"
"I'm a cloud driver. I do this all day."
"Any name?"
"None you need to know." He looked back at her. "So, how'd you go?"
"Me and a Trailblazer flew off the highway and a truck crushed me."
"Shame! You probably had a lot of living left." He started to sound more relaxed. The driver looked off to the side, sort of reflectively. "Not a lot of cars in my town, when I died there weren't many anywhere. I remember when the first one–"
"Uh, guy, sir, watch the, uh, sky." Summer hands were dug into her cloud as they tried to hold onto something solid. They were streaking across the sky at a terrifying speed, judging how the wind whipped by.
"Oh, don't worry, if you fall off you just fall for a while. Another one'll just pick you up. Anyway, I've done this for, oh, ninety years it must be now, and no one that I've driven has been kept from what they were gettin' because of me."
"That's...nice." Summer looked all around her–another featureless, white landscape. "So...what's it like?"
"What?"
"Death?"
"You tell me–you're dead, ain't you?"
She rolled her eyes. "I mean, after all of this is over."
"Depends. Depends on what you believed and what you did. Me, I liked to work. Sitting around all day was too boring. This gets me outta the house. Get to meet some real interesting folks too."
"So, it's not all blankness or anything."
"Oh! No, no." The driver pilled a couple of levers. "Okay, off you go. Best of luck, Miss Roberts. Need a job, think about contacting us."
"Okay–AAAAAGGGGGHHHHHHHHH!" The cable between the driver's cloud and Summer's cut away, and Summer's proved to be unsuited for flight. Summer spiraled down, down, down...
"Oh my God–oh my GOD!" Summer closed her eyes and buried her head into the cloud, hoping to pad her landing. "Oh God oh God oh God if you can hear this, tell Seth Cohen I love him...Sorry about the wreck...and forget about the dumpling...."
Summer felt herself hit something springy, then get thrown right back into the air. She her cloud get peeled from her grasp. Petrified, she opened her eyes–
CA-CHUNG! She bounced off the trampoline again. Her second bounce was still high, forty feet at least. "What the hell?" She could see the trampoline's edges, but just barely–it was football-field sized at least. Others right behind her were bouncing about as well.
CA-CHUNG...CHUHCHUHCHUH... One more good bounce and a short slide, and Summer was stopped, at the edge of the trampoline. Before her was a single, windowless door, labeled "Processing."
"Okay...end of the line, I guess." She stepped off the trampoline (carefully, lest there be other surprises) and went in the door.
"Processing" looked just like any doctor's or dentist's office she had ever seen, complete with receptionist. She walked up to the desk. "Erm...Summer Roberts."
"All right...yeah, here you are." The receptionist typed her in. "We got you right here. Good to see you on time. Room 612, please–sixth floor. Elevator is to your right."
"Thanks." She looked over–the closest one was just closing. "Wait–WAIT! Hold it!"
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Sandy Cohen craned his neck as he drove by an underpass. He had been working with police since Marissa left, trying to find out where she was. He was unofficially head of the search, at least within the clique. Jimmy was too busy beating himself up, and Julie seemed to have decided that Marissa was going to do her own thing no matter what she did. Ryan had been looking too, but found nothing.
This bridge, however, was much more promising. It was one of the favored hangouts for the homeless, as it kept the sun and rain out, and now was no exception. Two dozen people were camped out. Sandy pulled over to take a closer look.
Closest to him was an old gentleman in fatigues. "Excuse me, but I'm looking for someone. She's about eighteen, white, real thin, brownish hair–name's Marissa. Has she been around here?"
"Hmmm." The description was familiar to the gentleman. "I saw someone like that just today. Arrived here last night. Other side."
"Thank you." Sandy went farther under the bridge, scanning all around until he spotted who he was looking for. She was curled up tightly in a ball, her face buried in her knees. He came over slowly–just in case she freaked when she saw him.
"Hey, hon."
Marissa's head snapped up. She looked unwashed, and even more gaunt than usual. Head to toe, she was covered in dust, and her eyes were red and bloodshot. "What is it? Tell my parents I'm not going back."
"You have to go back one way or another. You can go back with me, stay with us for a few weeks, or you can go back with the police. They've been combing two counties for you."
"Let the police get me, then."
Sandy sighed. "This has been hard on all of us." No response. "You're welcome at our place any time."
"That's kind of you." Marissa spat it out furiously, avoiding Sandy's gaze.
"Well." Sandy looked at Marissa and Marissa looked at the ground. "I take it you're not coming back." Sandy kept his gaze and Marissa stayed silent. "By God, kid, don't stay here. Go to the Y or something." Still nothing. "Okay. See you...soon, I hope."
He looked at her for a few more seconds. Marissa was still motionless, having apparently decided to consider Sandy gone. He turned and walked back to her car.
After driving a block, he whipped his cell phone out. "Hello, Kirsten? Found her. No, she's not with me, but I got where she is. I'll tell you the intersection; call the police and give them the location."
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Was that all right? Sorry about the lack of action, I promise there will be some more coming pretty soon. When that next chapter is, I'm not sure. Within a week, hopefully, but I don't know. I'll try to get it in soon.