Chapter 3
Saturday, December 14th
5:53 A. M.
Doc didn't understand the ache in his skull. He was supposed to be dead. Confused, he opened his eyes to find himself looking upon a rosy sky. By his side sat a very sad-looking Mystie. "Mystie? Are you dead too?" he asked, surprised.
"No. You're very much alive," Mysteria corrected him. "Is being a vampire that horrible to you? To justify suicide? You scared me."
"I'm sorry, Mysteria," Doc said sincerely, feeling very sleepy. Despite the fact he'd been unconscious for 75 hours, his body was telling him it needed rest. "I shouldn't have done that in front of you. But why am I still-yawn-alive?"
"Only fire or decapitation can kill us. And only if the right measures are taken. So don't bother smashing your skull open on anything else."
"Great Scott, it...healed?" Sleepily Doc felt his head. It felt perfectly whole, not even sticky. Normally this would have caused a flood of speculation from Doc, but right now he was too tired to really care. His eyelids briefly closed, but he forced them open. "You'd think-yawn-I'd...have insom...nia," he joked.
"The two comas you were in don't provide the right rest for us," Mystie explained, feeling the need for sleep start to overcome her too. "There's no use in fighting it. I'm afraid I'll have to leave you, Emmett. Otherwise whoever finds you will find me passed out nearby, and that could raise some nasty questions. I'll come looking for you as soon as I can."
"Okay." Doc felt the first rays of the sun touch his skin, making him even sleepier. "Bye. I love you."
"I love you too." They shared a brief kiss, then Mysteria flew off to rest. Overcome with exhaustion, Doc flopped down on his grave, one arm extended. He passed out the second his head hit the ground.
Saturday, December 14th
7:06 A. M.
"McFly, you gotta snap outa this funk," Needles said to Marty as they entered Oak Park Cemetery. Ever since Doc's death, Marty had been severely depressed. He had made a trek to the grave every day, and today was no exception.
"If you'd actually known him, you might be sad," Marty snapped back, wishing Needles wasn't there.
"Yeah, you wouldn't be saying that if it had been a friend of yours who had died," Jennifer added, also with Marty. She, too, had been going around in a blue mood ever since Doc's death, although her funk hadn't reached the depths Marty's had.
"Hey, the only reason I'm with ya is because my gang said I was too chicken to go near Lunatic Brown's grave. I wanna prove to them Needles ain't scared of nothin'."
"What exactly are you going to do?' Marty asked sharply. It was well known in school that he had slugged someone for jokingly saying he (the someone) was going to urinate on Doc's grave. Which, if you think about it, wasn't an unqualified response.
"Relax, McFly. I'm just gonna put my initials in the dirt," Needles assured him. "Hell, the nutcase was old enough to be your grandpa. Why did you like him so much?"
Marty looked at the ground. "I don't know," he admitted. "We just clicked. Doc always made me feel like I could do anything. And he was the best tutor anyone could ask for." He sighed deeply. "He was just a great guy."
Jennifer put a comforting arm around his shoulders. "He was a great guy. At least he didn't suffer when he died. And, if there's a heaven, I'm sure he's in it."
"Has that girlfriend of his visited yet?" asked Needles.
Jennifer glared at him. "Mysteria has a skin disease, so she can only go out in low light. I'm sure she's been coming at night to pay her respects."
"Sheez, it was just a question," complained Needles. "You and that freaky woman are as close as McFly and Brown were."
"Something else Doc did for us," Marty agreed, fighting tears badly. Thinking about his dearly departed friend made him that more depressed. His fingers tightened on the flowers he had brought to place on the grave.
As they were nearing the fresh grave, Needles saw someone laying on it. "McFly, I didn't do that, I swear," he said, pointing it out.
Jennifer sighed. "More couples? Why on earth do people dare each other to do that kind of stuff? I wouldn't make out on a grave for anything, would you Marty?"
Marty was looking at the person strangely. "No," he answered her absently. "But look. That's only one person. And why is he laying down so funny?" Puzzled, he walked a few feet closer.
Suddenly, his heart froze. That person was no teenager. "DOC!" he screamed, racing towards the grave. The flowers dropped unnoticed from his hand and were crushed underfoot. "Holy shit, we buried him alive!"
"What?" gasped Jennifer and Needles, running after him to see.
Sure enough, it was Doc, unconscious in a position that suggested he had tried to crawl away from his grave. Marty fell to his knees beside him, horrified. "Doc! Doc, answer me!" he cried, shaking Doc's shoulder frantically. "Wake up, please wake up...."
Doc stirred from his sleep. The sun's rays were a strong sedative, but Marty's voice was an even stronger wake-up call. He managed to force open his heavy eyelids. Marty knelt beside him, studying his face. "Mar...ty?" he mumbled, his mouth cottony.
Marty smiled for the first time since Doc's 'death'. "Yeah, Doc, it's me."
Doc smiled back, fighting off the intense sleepiness that claimed his body. With immense effort he pushed himself up and put his arms around his friend. Unabashedly weeping from joy, Marty hugged back. "Man, it's so good to see you, Doc."
"Good to...yawn...see you," Doc mumbled, unable to remain awake. He fell asleep against Marty, almost knocking him to the ground with his weight. But Marty didn't care. As long as Doc was alive, everything was all right again.
"Hey Jennifer, Needles, help me get him back to the truck," Marty called to his friends. Jennifer immediately came over to help, but Needles hung back. He seemed rooted to the spot. "Needles?"
"I'm not coming over there." Fear was readily apparent in his eyes and voice.
"Jesus Christ, Needles, its not like he's a zombie. He won't bite."
"Maybe not you. Not goin' over there."
"Then get the watchman," Jennifer snapped, struggling to help Marty lift Doc. "Oof! You'd think a guy so skinny wouldn't weight that much."
"On 3," Marty said, getting on Doc's other side. "1-2-3!" With a grunt, they lifted Doc's head and shoulders. They managed to drag him off his grave and onto the path before his weight got the better of them. Happily, the watchman showed up at that point, and together they got Doc into Marty's pickup.
Saturday, December 14th
4:30 P. M.
Dr. John Conner and Dr. Gypsy Sol Robinson finished their examination of the sleeping Doc. "Well, he seems to be resting quite comfortably," Dr. Conner said, puzzled. "Pulse is normal, breathing rate is normal. His reactions to light and sound seem a bit hypersensitive, for the short time we managed to wake him. I'd say that's a normal reaction to stress. He appears to be perfectly healthy."
"He's definitely in good shape for someone who was dead on the 11th," Marty snapped fiercely. Lorraine, at his side, squeezed his shoulder in a warning way.
"That's what puzzles me, Marty. Because on the 11th, I was certain he was dead. He had no pulse, he didn't breathe, and he didn't react to light and sound. Logically, he had no life. Yet now-" the doctor stopped, at a loss. "I didn't mean to pronounce him dead before his time."
"I know. Sorry for snapping at you," Marty apologized. "I'm pretty keyed up."
"Well, having your best friend return from the grave should be a traumatic experience for anyone," Dr. Robinson, a psychologist, commented. "I'd say you're doing quite well. As for Dr. Brown, I figure he'll be very disoriented when he finally comes to, and probably slightly paranoiac for a couple of days. With friends like you though, he should be back to himself in no time."
"If whatever made him comatose doesn't come back," Dr. Conner qualified. "I'd like to take a blood sample with your permission, Mr. McFly."
"Go right ahead," George said. "I'm sure all of us want to know what happened to him." Marty and Jennifer nodded vigorously in agreement.
Dr. Conner smiled and drew a small sample from Doc's arm. "I'll be off now," he said, after tucking the sample away. "I'll call in a few days with the test results."
"I should be leaving too," Dr. Robinson said, straightening her skirt. "I've got clients back at the office. Call me if he seems to be having a nervous breakdown or anything like that. Oh, and congrats on his miraculous resurrection."
"Thanks," Marty said, smiling. "Believe me, this is a real miracle."