A/N: Thank you all so much for the kind reviews! In answering your questions...
1: This is only the un-altered timeline, where George McFly is a geek and Lorraine has a drinking problem.
2: Yes, we will see such familiar characters as Doc Brown and Jennifer and find out how Marty met them.
3: Marty appeared not to know about Martin McFly- brother of Seamus -in Part Three, so I assume he was never told about the connection. I make the further assumption that George ether doesn't know or forgot when he named his son.
WARNING! Cliffhanger!
Sunday, June 21, 1981. 11:23 AM
Downtown Hill Valley
Mom's gonna kill me, thought the young man unhappily as he shuffled down the street, skateboard in hand. The thought was hardly formed when Marty reconsidered it. Maybe not kill me...but this skateboard is toast. Marty glanced at the scraped deck of his wheeled 'toy', knowing that Lorraine was going to be furious when she found out Marty had been hurt while riding it. It was going to be the worst Sunday in history.
The day had begun well enough. Marty, as was his custom on Sunday mornings, would ride his skateboard to the park to fool around and try new tricks. There were other boys there as well, older ones. They teased Marty about his stature and dared him to try new tricks. Every week Marty would practice the tricks until he had them down cold, and then return the following week to show off. By then the boys would have a new trick for him to learn.
This week it was different. This week they had dared Marty to try a jump, right then and there, off the curb of the sidewalk into the path several feet below, bordered by a cinderblock wall. Marty had scoffed at such a dangerous stunt, but when the boys had called him 'Chicken'...well, that was that. Marty angrily turned around and picked up his board to try it.
The first three times he had bailed out. On the fourth, he had followed through on the stunt. Somehow, he'd landed it and was about to look smugly at the teasing boys when the skateboard hit a rock, of all things, and he had wiped out.
Either way, the boys had relented and stopped calling him names. Marty, meanwhile, had turned to go home, not letting them see his tears of pain.
Marty glanced at his injury. His right wrist was swollen, bruised and misshapen. It had to be broken. Lorraine had always warned her son that he was going to break something, and now she was proved right. The young man grimaced upon thinking of her reaction...and of the doctor visit that was going to follow. Marty hated going to the doctor. He may have been thirteen, but between the sharp smells, the sounds, and the needles, Marty would rather set the bone himself than go through the misery of modern medicine.
Loud honks from the road made Marty lift his head and look around. The cars in the left-hand lane were constantly stopping, honking, and then driving on. Something was in the road. It didn't take long to see what it was.
It was a large grey and brown mutt, trying to cross the street. When the cars honked, he'd backed onto the sidewalk and whined. Again
and again he tried crossing, but with no success.
Marty winced in sympathy and worry. He cringed when the cars honked again, and the dog scurried back, tail tucked. "C'mon, dog. You're gonna get run over. Go home," he muttered.
The dog continued to pace and whine on the other side of the street, watching traffic. Finally, when it had eased, he trotted across yet again. The shaggy animal didn't see the car coming around the far corner.
Marty did. He couldn't stand the idea of seeing a dog hit by a car, so he dashed out into the street himself. Ignoring the honks of the cars around him, he grabbed the dog by the collar and hauled him over to the opposite side out of harm's way. The pair was narrowly missed by several other cars. Marty shuddered while the dog struggled against his grip, whining. "Whoa, easy, boy. Take it easy. I'm not gonna hurt you. Geez, I saved your life. Why would I hurt you?"
The dog continued to struggle, pulling back toward the street.
Marty held fast to the worn leather collar. "No! I'm gonna let you get run over. Shh. Easy, boy. It's okay." Marty frowned and looked around for a way to placate the stubborn mutt when he remember the stick of beef jerky in his back pocket. he pulled it out and held it in front of the dog's nose. "Hey, look what I got for you."
Abruptly the dog stopped struggling and eagerly sniffed the treat, his bushy tail waving slowly back and forth.
Marty broke off a piece of the jerky and carefully fed the dog. "There you go, boy."
Chomp! The dog snagged the treat out of the boy's hand and gulped it down, licking his chops.
"There. See? I'm your friend." Marty smiled in relief and satisfaction at having saved the dog's life. He noted how gentle the dog was in sniffing his hands and how dirty his coat was. Obviously the animal had been running loose for several days. Marty frowned as he fed the dog another piece of jerky. "You lost, boy?"
Come to think of it, he'd never seen the dog around before. Where was his owner? Did he even have an owner? Marty imagined someone neglecting the animal and grew angry. Perhaps the dog had run away from an abusive home. Briefly Marty considered taking the dog home with him.
Marty had always wanted a dog, but his parents had never allowed it. George and Linda both had violent allergies to dogs and cats, so the family pets were limited to goldfish and parakeets.
I don't care, thought Marty, stroking the dog. I can't leave him out in the street. He could still be hit by a car. That was that. His mind was made up. Marty was going to take the dog home and deal with the reactions from his family later. At least it would give the poor thing a night in safety before being taken to the pound.
Marty rose to his feet and continued feeding the dog bits of jerky. "C'mon, boy. Let's go."
Willingly the dog followed the boy with the beef jerky, wagging his tail.
As Marty and the dog walked along, Marty spoke to the animal with a soft voice and ended up telling his deepest secrets to the dog. He told him everything, from the bullying, to the problems at home. Marty had never really spoken to anyone about such things and so found himself relaxing, even as the practical side of him worried about what would happen to the dog...and about the pain in his wrist, which had not abated. If anything, it was worse.
Rounding the corner toward home, Marty caught sight of a handwritten paper sign hanging on a telephone pole. 'Lost Dog', it proclaimed. 'Reward!' Beneath was a full description of the animal: 'Brown and gray 2 yr. old longhaired Bearded Collie mix. Neutered male. Brown eyes, brown collar, 65 lbs. Answers to 'Einstein'. Please call immediately!' And there was both a phone number and an address.
Marty's heart sank and he turned back to the dog. It matched the description perfectly. He knew that he had to return the animal to its' rightful owner...but maybe this was the wrong dog. He bit his lip and tried the name. "Einstein? Is that your name, boy? Einstein?"
At the mention of the name, the dog immediately turn to the boy, lifted his ears, and wagged his tail.
Marty hung his head, still scratching the dog behind the ears. That was it, then. The dog was lost and would have to be returned. He swore softly under his breath and blinked back the coming tears as he ripped the poster from the pole, stuffed it in his pocket, and turned around to head back toward town. Hope the reward is good, he thought. Man, Sundays stink!
The walk from Lyon Estates back to downtown Hill Valley was pure misery. Nothing ever seemed to go right! Here, Marty had thought to find a friend at last...but it was not to be. The young man let the tears fall as he and the dog made their way to 1646 John F. Kennedy Drive.
Marty scanned the street numbers and counted down each one. He was very much surprised to see that the 'house' was nothing more than a large converted garage in the heart of Hill Valley...right next to Burger King. How many times had he and his parents gotten an abbreviated dinner from that very restaurant?
The driveway was empty, but Marty felt a strange sense of foreboding as he walked slowly up to the unlocked chain link gate. He could remember some weird stories told about this place from the kids at school. Rumor had it that a mad scientist lived there, who re-animated dead body parts like Dr. Frankenstein. Others, mostly adults, said that it was the home of a mentally-ill person who claimed to be able to read a person's thoughts. Still others said that the 'scientist' description was just a cover-up...it was really a psycho murderer hiding out in the tiny Californian town.
The dog certainly wasn't worried. He broke away from Marty and ran right up to the gate, whining and pawing at it. In a few minutes the gate had opened and the dog ambled inside.
The blood drained from Marty's face. Who knew what kind of horrible experiments this 'mad scientist' might perform on the poor dog? He ran after the animal. "Hey! Wait! Einstein, no!" But the dog had disappeared, almost as if by magic. Marty spun round and round, feeling sick. "Einstien...c'mon, boy, come on out of there. Einstein!"
"Arf! Arf!" The big sheepdog's head popped up. He had found his way in through an open window.
Oh, crap. The sound of a large vehicle parking in the driveway increased Marty's anxiety, and he swore again. Fearful both of being caught and of what might happen to the poor, innocent dog, Marty dove in headfirst through the window, knocking over a couple of clocks in the process. As the boy rose painfully to his feet, he saw before him no kind of sight like he had expected.
The place was a shambles. Piles of cardboard boxes lay everywhere. Papers of all descriptions lay stacked eighteen inches high on shelves, while blueprints for all sorts of outlandish devices hung haphazardly on the walls among other bits and pieces. On the wall nearest the door lay a type of contraption somewhere in the process of being built that included a TV, a timer, a coffee maker, and a pile of scrap metal that was in the process of being assembled with nuts, bolts, and miles of red and blue wire. On the floor next to the front door and the workbench lay a dog bowl with 'Einstein' printed across the side in red. On the opposite wall was a much rumpled cot and orange crate that had been upended to serve as a nightstand. On it was a dirty plate bearing the remains of some sort of breakfast...eggs and toast with butter, to be exact. And that was only the first half of the place.
Marty stood rooted to the spot, jaw hanging open, as he took all this in. A furry head nosing it way under his hand reminded him of why he was here. He grabbed the dog's collar. "Come on, boy. We gotta get outta here before-"
A key clicked in the door. Einstein whined and wagged his tail, looking expectantly at the door. His master was home.
Panicked, Marty looked for a place to hide. He dove under the cot and pulled one of the blankets down to the floor as the front door opened with a creak...
To be continued...
