Back To The Past

Part Six: A Little B&E, A Little Surprise, Big Trouble

"This is Biff's garage?" admonished Marty, gaping at the rundown, two-door brick building that had to be a hold over from the sixties.

"Not much to look at, is it?" noted Doc Brown. "But then again, neither was my lab. Come on, Marty, we have to hurry."

Climbing out of the 4X4, the two made their way over to the ramshackle garage, Marty nervously scanning the area for any indication that someone was watching them. Doc Brown was focused solely on the task before them, studying the building as they approached, looking for any alarms.

"I don't get it, Doc," said Marty, still keeping watch as Doc Brown began examining the entrance door. "I thought Biff was doing pretty good with his business."

"He's good at what he does, Marty, but it's his personality. Eventually, Biff manages to upset just about everyone."

"Oh," was all Marty could think of saying, feeling a brief flash of pity for the man that had caused so much trouble in his, and his parents', lives.

"Well, it would seem that there's no alarm system in place," noted Doc, standing and looking to Marty. "Hand me one of those bricks from over there, would you?"

Marty trotted over to a pile of refuse by the corner of the garage, selected one of the many bricks laying about, and handed it over to the Doc.

"Wait a minute, Doc," exclaimed Marty, halting Doc Brown from throwing the brick through the glass of the door.

"What, Marty?"

"Did you check to see if it was open?"

Doc Brown looked at Marty with a quizzical expression of disbelief.

Sighing, Marty stepped over to the door, grabbed a hold of the knob, and turned. He tried it a couple of more times before he finally turned around and, smiling sheepishly, shrugged his shoulders.

"Marty, please," chastised the Doc. "Do you think that we're in some low budget comedy? Now, stand back."

To Marty, the sound of the breaking glass was like a clap of thunder, and he was sure that people would come rushing out to see what the noise had been. He glanced around at the nearest houses, all of them with their backs to the alley that the garage was at the end of, and saw not the least indication that anyone had noticed the noise.

"Come on, Marty," called the Doc, slipping into the darkness of the interior of the garage.

The door gave entrance to a small reception area, where Biff could wait on the occasional customer, filled only with a sales counter, a couple of cheap, plastic chairs, and coffee maker that looked like it churned out something resembling oil rather than coffee.

Another door was behind the sales counter, leading to the garage proper, and Doc Brown was already moving through it. Jogging around the counter, Marty chased after the Doc, coming to a sudden stop as light blossomed through out the garage.

"Close the door, Marty. Close the door," instructed Doc Brown to the squinting Marty. "The windows are painted over, so no one should suspect we're in here."

"Whoa," said Marty, turning around to take in the garage, after closing the door.

The garage was big enough to hold six cars, three deep and two side by side, and nearly all of that space was covered with the pieces of the smashed DeLorean. Biff had pushed all of his supplies and equipment up against the walls to make room for the pieces, laying them out as best he could to line up with each other in proper order.

It looked like a DeLorean jig-saw puzzle.

"No wonder it took him eighteen years to put it back together," said Marty, following the Doc as he began looking over the pieces.

"I don't imagine that it was the car that took him so long, Marty," said Doc Brown. "It was the flux capacitor that gave him all of the trouble. That, and the hover system."

Doc Brown squatted down and picked up ruined metal and glass box that was the flux capacitor, looking at it with pride and remorse. He had been tempted to travel through time to tell his younger self to never build it, but then where would that leave Clara and the boys?

"Do you want me to back the truck up to the door, Doc?" asked Marty.

"No, Marty, I don't think that'll be necessary."

"What do you mean, Doc?"

"In my haste to set things right, I over thought a few things. We don't need to recover the DeLorean, just the pieces of the flux capacitor, and the future modifications that I made to the car."

"That does make things easier," agreed Marty.

"Here," said Doc, handing Marty the flux capacitor. "You take this, and start gathering up the pieces of the Mister Fusion, since you know what they look like. I'll start retrieving the pieces of the hover-conversion system."

"The hover system got fried, Doc. Why bother with it?"

"Because the components are still there, and it's possible, however unlikely, that they could be reverse-engineered."

"Right, Doc," conceded Marty, turning to carry out his task.

Grabbing up a cardboard box and dumping out the rags that it contained, Marty began tossing pieces into it, snatching up anything that he thought might be a part of the Mister Fusion.

"What's truly amazing," said the Doc, speaking as they picked through the pieces of the DeLorean, "is that time can be so pliable, and yet so rigid. This time-line should have been changed, but since it's the focal point of the change, we are still able to travel here and rectify the changes that would be made."

"Yeah, it's pretty amazing, Doc," agreed Marty, though he really wasn't following what the Doc was saying. Thinking too much about time travel and causality tended to give him a headache.

"I wonder," said the Doc, suddenly standing and placing his fists on his hips, his face a mask of pondering. "If we left this time and returned…would it still be this time-line or would it change?"

"Do we really need to find out, Doc?" asked Marty. "Is it worth the risk?"

"No, of course not," dismissed the Doc, shaking his head. "Not with such grave consequences on the line. But a controlled experiment, with some minor change…"

"Later, Doc, later," said Marty, picking up his already full box. "I'm going to take this load out to the truck."

"Okay," said the Doc, returning to gathering up the futuristic pieces.

Marty stepped into the reception area and around the sales counter, cursing as lights suddenly lit up the front of the building. Darting to the front door, Marty swore again as he saw two vehicles rapidly approaching, the one in the lead definitely Biff's little yellow pick up.

"Doc, we've got company," yelled Marty, running back into the garage and locking the door behind him. "Biff, and he's got some friends!"

"Come on, Marty," instructed the Doc, heading for a door at the rear of the garage. "We've got enough of the pieces that he'll never be able to put together a working time machine."

Doc pulled open the door and screamed, their exit blocked by someone he had never expected to see.

Biff stood outside the rear entrance of the garage.

Young Biff.

1955 Biff.

To Be Continued…