CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
A Sound of Thunder

Saturday, November 12, 1955
9:53 PM

Another roll of thunder drew Emmett to attention at the foot of the courthouse stairs. The storm had crept closer than he'd realized. Heavy cloud cover sought to suffocate him; everything was finally coming to a head, and it made the walls of his throat stick. He ran through his mental checklist for the umpteenth time, eyes darting from the DeLorean to the swinging cable to the lightning rod above the clock in quick succession.

Less than ten minutes now.

In less than ten minutes, everything would be fine.

Marty and Emma would be returning home to 1985 where Future Emmett waited on baited breath to see if his time machine had worked, and he would be left standing in this courtyard with a renewed sense of purpose, direction, and certainty he would have never known if it hadn't been for Marty and Emma showing up on his doorstep a week ago.

Last-Week Emmett seemed like a stranger; he was so ready to dismiss them and get back to that Brain Wave Analyzer, and he had the hindsight now to realize that that could have been one of the biggest regrets of his life. Of course, up until that point, he'd not had the best interactions with kids their age, and he never intended to after all he'd incurred from them over the years. But now?

He couldn't wait to see them in thirty years.

He couldn't wait to meet them whenever it was he met them in the future, but it would be damn hard not being able to leap into conversation about this misadventure until it happened. And given the bond they had, it seemed he would be keeping that secret from them for a while once they came into his life. You don't just invite two teenagers to help you with your life's work if you met them in passing a week before.

Or they just won't show up to their own damn party and ruin everything, he thought, deepening his brow and checking the watch on his left wrist. Ten minutes late!

"Damn, where are those kids?"

This whole elaborate scheme could shit the bed in a lot of ways and realistically result in Marty and Emma going home with him to the mansion tonight to live out their lives from this point forward, but it was not going to be because they were late.

He checked his pocket watch.

"Damn!"

It better not be because they're late.

The right wristwatch further pursed his lips.

"Damn, damn!"

One for each of them!

Just then, he heard an approaching vehicle behind him, and, glad to see it was not the snoopy cop following up once more on his "permits", he ran towards the street as the Packard came to a hard stop in front of Western Auto Sales. Emma's dress swirled out from the side of the driver's door before she did, and Marty ran around the front of the car from the passenger side. The two of them met Doc at the DeLorean and began removing its canvas tarp. As Emma predicted, her father was not exactly thrilled, and Marty imagined he'd be even less so if he knew what a stir-up he'd caused at the dance.

"You're late! Do you have no concept of time?!"

"Hey, come on!" Marty shouted over the wind. "I had to change! You think I'm going back in that- that zoot suit?"

Emma, still sporting her dress, all but rolled her eyes when Emmett glanced at her. Knowing she had little choice but to remain in what she was wearing, he knew her wardrobe wasn't exactly a priority to her at the moment. If they weren't so pressed for time, he'd've spared a second to be amused. As it was, he saw fit to give Marty one last reprimand.

"You couldn't have cut it much closer!"

"Well, it took a little longer to get Mom and Dad back together than I thought!"

Given George McFly's nature, Emmett could see it. "But the plan worked?"

"See for yourself!"

Emmett snatched the proffered photograph from Marty and scrutinized the opaqueness of its subjects. There they were, in a neat little line, all heads intact.

"The old man really came through! It worked!" Marty shouted. "He laid out Biff in one punch!"

Emmett spun back to them. "Really?"

Emma nodded enthusiastically, squinting in the high winds. "Just plain coldcocked him!"

"I didn't know he had it in him! He's never stood up to Biff in his life!"

"Never?"

Marty and Emma exchanged a look. "No. Why? What's the matter?"

Emmett's mind began to wander before the scent of rain redirected his focus. Earlier concerns of a paradox alleviated, he erased the conversation and ensuing trains of thought from his mind, handed Marty back the photograph, and gave his hand a firm squeeze.

Job well done, kid. Now let's move.

"Alright, let's set your destination time!"

Emma pressed her back against the side of the DeLorean as Doc and Marty passed. Her father opened the driver's side hatch, its hydraulics whining in greeting as he fell into the seat. Marty leaned in from over Doc's shoulder, and Emma came around in front of Marty, crouching next to the doorjamb and looking up into the small cab. She rose up slightly to follow Doc's finger under the yellow TIME DEPARTED display.

"This is the exact time you left!"

OCT 26 1985 1:35

There was a yellow indicator light lit up under the "AM" right before the time. Emma swallowed as Doc dialed up the same date on the keypad, sending it to the red DESTINATION TIME display of the console.

"Let's send you back at the exact same time! It'll be like you never left!"

Emma's stomach soured as Marty helped her up. She felt the fresh sear of the bullet wound all over again; Marty pulling her to the DeLorean under the barrage of gunfire and the uncomfortable throes of their escape. She wondered if Marty could see her reliving their last moments in 1985 as Doc rushed past them into the middle of the street, then curious if he was doing a bit of reliving himself.

"Now," Doc said, "I've painted a white line on the street waaayover there! That's where you'll start from." He dug into his coat for a small alarm clock as he came back to them, the whistling of the wind continuing to intensify and bury his voice. "I've calculated the precise distance, taking into account the acceleration speed and wind resistance retroactive from the moment the lightning strikes, which will be," – he compared the time on the alarm clock to that of his wristwatch waiting for them to align perfectly – "in exactly seven minutes and twenty-two seconds.

"When this alarm goes off, you hit the gas!"

"Right!"

Emma cleared her throat, watching her not-yet father drop into the driver's seat once more to carefully place the alarm clock next to the speedometer above the steering wheel. She ran through the plan again silently in an effort to clear her mind of all the big, distracting emotions trying to tear at her composure.

Truth was, she understood and studied every bit of the science all week in addition to traipsing around with Marty so she didn't have to think about the endgame. Her body was on the verge of physically rebelling whenever she thought about it, and she couldn't pretend it was just the pain from her shoulder or nausea from the medication anymore.

It was time to go home to 1985.

And the aftermath of the Libyans.

"Well, I guess that's everything!"

Emmett did one last take of the area, following the sound of the thunder. He beamed back down at Marty and Emma, but they did not reflect the exuberance of their achievement as he had expected. Instead, their eyes were apprehensive to meet his, their frowns were troubled, and their shoulders were hunched. Taking full stock of their body language, he could only assume some last-minute reservations about actually going through with all this had reared their ugly heads. He narrowed his eyes at them wistfully and smiled.

Finally, Marty gathered his courage to make eye contact with him. "Thanks."

A laugh leapt from Emmett. They were thanking him? While getting them home was the whole point of this operation, it was somehow the least he could do given all they had done for him.

"Thank you!"

Emma watched Marty try several times to find the words to further express their gratitude, and just before she spoke up, Marty pulled Doc into a tight hug. Like father, like daughter, her eyes went as wide as his, a thin smile warming her lips. Doc's astonishment melted away into an affection Emma hadn't seen since before they arrived in 1955, and she released a choppy sigh seeing him slowly return Marty's embrace.

Emmett was suddenly back at his bedroom window on Thursday night, remembering the inklings of a bond he felt with Marty and Emma as they played Scrabble on his lawn; the musings of how he could come to care for anyone in such a way as they had him.

He patted Marty's back, resting his chin on the orange vest.

For these two kids, he was all in.

And it hit him then just what it would truly mean to miss them when they were gone.

He swallowed. "In about thirty years?"

"I hope so."

Emmett pulled Marty back and threw up a reassuring grin. "Don't worry!"

Marty shrugged. "We are depending on a bolt of lightning to get us home."

Emma stepped forward, nudging Marty as the winds tore the remainder of her curls free. "And his calculations." She shared a smile with her not-yet father. "I'd say we're as good as home, but we knew that when we came looking for him."

Emmett regarded her with the fond respect she'd involuntarily earned from him during their time together. He shut his eyes as she swung her arms around his neck, holding her close.

"And I am so glad you did."

Emma suddenly felt whole, like everything would finally be okay. The warmth and reassurance of his embrace rejuvenated her weary mind, and it was all she had longed for in this unending week.

She kissed his cheek. "I'm proud of you, old timer."

Emmett let her fall back down from her tiptoes, his smile sincere. "It has been and will be an honor to work with you."

She nodded, inhaling sharply. "No matter how this turns out-"

"Don't even think about it!" Doc said immediately. He parted them, pointing up at the cable taught between the lampposts. "As long as you hit that wire with the connecting hook at precisely eighty-eight miles per hour the instant the lightning strikes that tower," – he wet his lips and pocketed his hands – "everything will be fine."

Emma made herself nod again. Marty reentered her peripheral vision, and she nearly jumped at his hand on her hip urging her to get in the DeLorean, half-forgetting their curbside confessions just hours ago. Hurrying to the other side of the car, Emma lifted the door. She looked back up at Doc hoping to share one last smile with him, but her heart sank to see him squinting at the premature discovery of the letter in his coat pocket.

"What's the meaning of this?" Doc shouted over the wind, thrusting it at them.

"You'll find out in thirty years!"

"It's about the future, isn't it?!" Emmett whirled away from the street and shoved his fists in his hair. "It's information about the future!" he wailed, twisting and squeezing all of his frustration, disappointment, and curiosity into the envelope as Marty and Emma raced to his side.

All week, he had withstood the temptations to ask and to wonder about so many things, and now, for all he knew, the answer to every question he had was in the palm of his hand, waiting to be read.

How could they?

"I warned you about this!" Emmett yelled, holding up the offending letter between them. "The consequences could be disastrous!"

"That's a risk you're gonna have to take!" Marty said, grasping the letter over Doc's hands. "Your life depends on it!"

Before her father even drew the breath to shout over Marty, Emma lunged for the letter in his hand, desperately trying to snatch it from him. Doc was quick to turn and block her, however.

"Just give it to me!" Emma begged, trying to fight her way over his shoulder.

"No!" Doc shook her off his back as he marched away.

And then came the sound Emma didn't even realize she had been dreading until it happened: the sound of their letter being torn to pieces. By her own father.

Emma felt herself diving toward him again, but Marty's arm caught hers, tugging her back until he had her behind him.

"What are you doing?!" she shrieked at Doc.

"I refuse to accept the responsibility!"

Marty spun Doc to face him. They were out of options.

"In that case, I'll tell you straight out!"

Emma wasn't sure if her father was covering her ears from the enormous crack or the prospect of Marty telling him all about the future, but she, too, hunched as a massive limb from one of the overhead oaks crashed behind her, shaking the ground beneath them. As unexpected as it was to come within four feet of being crushed by a giant tree branch, it was more so that it had fallen on the cable strung between the clock tower and lamppost, leaving an empty paddle plug socket swinging freely in the face of the clock.

"Great Scott!"

Doc immediately picked up a coil of rope from beside his toolbox and ladder, instructing Marty and Emma to ready the cable for when he threw the rope down to them. He took off into the courthouse like the madman everyone believed him to be.

Oblivious to the twigs and rough bark tearing at her skin and snagging her dress, Emma dug through the pile of debris with Marty, ultimately spotting the sheen of the cable in a flash of lighting.

"Here!"

She maneuvered her hands down to it, Marty snapping away some of the smaller sticks to grant her better access. She guided the cable over and under the thicker branches until she met Marty and the plug at the end. While the heavy limb still rested on a portion of it, they made a break for the courthouse steps, certain they had freed up enough for it to be reconnected to the lightning rod. Marty had it tied to the rope quickly, and it was being hoisted up just as he had secured it.

During its ascension, Marty gave it one last go, praying he would somehow be heard enough that Doc would get the message. He cupped his hands and starting yelling about the future, and while Emma wanted to join in, she didn't want to be something else he was shouting over. To their surprise, Doc was leaning out with a hand to his ear, feeding them the slightest bit of hope when the bells chimed loudly within the clocktower, sending his legs swinging over the ledge.

Emma started running up the steps directly beneath him as if she were going to successfully catch him and cushion his fall.

"No!"

Thankfully, he regained his footing, waving fiercely for them to go despite their pleas.

"You've got less than four minutes! Hurry!"

Emma felt a sharp jolt of fear stab her in the chest as Marty pulled her off the stairs. This was it; it was time to leave him. This was the last moment she would get to spend with her not-yet father: lightning flourishing about his panicked gesticulations as he stood an inch from certain death five stories below.

For them. All for them to get home.

Swallowing the emotion building in her throat, she finally dropped her eyes, trying to make her mind transition back into the impenetrable Mission Mode she had embodied before the dance as they bolted for the DeLorean, Marty sliding over the hood to the driver's side. Before he pulled away from the curb, she tried to catch one last glimpse of her father, but he was not much more than a small silhouette against the glowing face of the clock at this distance.

Emma took several deep breaths as Marty made for their mark next to a sign advertising the Bluebird Motel, attempting to comfort herself with the knowledge that the math was there, and this would work. All her dad had to do was reconnect the plug, and they had to floor it when the alarm clock rang, and then they would be back in 1985. She knew they absolutely had to, would, and must return, but seeing her father destroy the letter again in her mind's eye, Emma didn't want to go back. She was never going to be ready for the other side of this lightning strike, but she found she had little say in the matter, if any at all.

When they reached the "starting line", they leapt from the DeLorean to put the hook in as Doc had instructed, Emma mutely checking that the connections were secure and properly aligned. She fell back into the passenger seat with a sound exhale and closed her door, berating herself back into reality.

Get a grip, Emma. We're not done yet.

Marty slammed the gull wing shut, panting. Emma fastened her seatbelt and stared into the space beyond the dash; he feared she had finally retreated entirely within herself. But seeing Doc tear up their letter hadn't just torn Emma up. The torrent of anger and hopelessness crested painfully in the bottom of his throat, and he beat the heel of his hand off the steering wheel, causing Emma to start.

"Damn it, Doc! Why did you have to destroy that letter?"

Emma glanced over at his outburst and let her eyes drop to the time circuits as he glowered desperately, "If only we had more time!"

Emma blinked at the multicolored display. She huffed, pushing her fingertips into her temples.

How stupid are we?

Before Marty even had to ask, his face brightened with hope when the same realization befell him. Like Emma, he couldn't believe it had taken them this long to see what was literally right in front of their faces.

Emma dropped her hands in her lap soundly, her laughter hollow as she motioned to the time circuits.

"How much more do we need?"

Marty and Emma were completely ignorant of the mini side adventure Emmett was having. Between dangling from one cable while saving the other from his pantleg and ziplining to the ground to fight with a tree, Emmett was frazzled beyond reason. He couldn't tell that if he were next faced with the devil himself if he would beg for mercy for this madness to end or strike him down without hesitation because nothing was stopping Emmett from seeing this through.

The whining pitch of the DeLorean soon broke through the winds and thunder, fast approaching the pinnacle of this asinine experience. No sooner had he wished them Godspeed and reconnected the cable than the energy of the lightning strike channeled down the cable, throwing him backward. Miraculously, he remained conscious, immediately sitting up as a unique rush of air washed over him in the wake of the disappearance of the DeLorean.

Holy shit, I disintegrated them.

Mentally shoving aside his kneejerk reaction, Emmett staggered to his feet to assess the burning cables, the flaming trails, the absence of the DeLorean. Images from the video tape he had studied over the week flashed over the scene perfectly. The heat from the dissipating flames licked at his ankles as he walked between the tire tracks, grounding him in the reality of the moment.

They were gone. They were gone.

He smiled, a cry of elation breaking over the silenced street.

The scientist in him would have to wait thirty years to know for certain if the experiment had worked, but in his heart, he would not be convinced otherwise that Marty and Emma were safely home.

Now came the fun part: spending the next thirty years bringing this moment into existence.