Chapter 5
Wednesday, November 27th, 1985
Hill Valley
12: 02 A. M.
Consciousness slowly came back to Doc. He let out a soft, weak moan. He was freezing! What had happened? Where was Josie? Where were the attendants?
Where was he, for that matter?
It came to Doc it was awfully dark, where-ever he was. Then he realized his eyes were still closed. He opened them, but it didn't help much. He tried to move around, but his movements were limited. It was like being in a rather large box in a cold place.
Wait a moment. Box?
Doc nearly started hyperventilating. He had been buried alive! He shut his eyes and tried to calm down. "Don't panic now. Josie told you this would happen. You need to escape before you run out of air down here." Hoping Josephine was near, he banged on the lid of his coffin.
To his surprise, his hand smashed right through the cheap wood. Dirt and grubs rained down on him. Suppressing the urge to vomit and thoughts of decomposition, he clawed his way free off the coffin. His grave was cheaply dug, making this not quite as arduous as it should have been. Within a minute, he had unearthed himself and lay panting on his grave.
He relaxed and checked for grubs. Thankfully none had found him in his short interment and he was still completely whole. Reassured that he hadn't been eaten up any, he looked around.
That proved to be a big mistake. Information flooded his already stressed brain. A whole world of sights, sounds, smells, tastes, and touches presented itself to him in all its glory.
And it terrified him.
He shut his eyes tight and tried to focus his mind, to block out all the intruding sensations. "Josie. . . . Where's Josie? I need her most now. . . . Please let her be okay. I love her so much. Josephine? Can you hear me? Where are you?"
There was no response. Doc got worried. "Something's happened to her. She wouldn't abandon me like this."
That reminded him - the letter! He pulled it from his thankfully untouched shirt. Forcing himself to ignore all the other sensations, he started reading:
Dear Emmett,
It appears I was not able to get to your graveside at time. I'm extremely sorry I was unable to be with you. Know that I love you and would never willingly abandon you. Hopefully this letter will suffice until I am able to reach you.
I'm sure you're feeling quite a lot of new sensations now. It's scary at first, I know, but you'll get used to it. Relax and let it wash over you. You'll find you will be better off if you leave most of it to instinct. Eventually the sensations will lessen until you're able to handle them efficiently.
First things first, my love - you're going to have to feed soon. No doubt you're already feeling thirsty.
Doc found himself nodding yes to the letter. He was thirsty. His throat felt abnormally dry, like he'd been denied water for a long time. "Which I have," he figured, licking his lips. A few of the smells seemed much more inviting now. There was blood nearby. A lot of it.
He glanced down at the letter for instruction:
Just follow your nose and ears to the nearest source of blood you can find. You'll know what to do when you find it. It comes naturally to all of us.
Doc nodded again, running his tongue over his lips again. He tucked the letter back in his shirt for the moment and stood up. For a moment, he stood in awe of his new senses, which had become manageable as he read the letter. The dark toxic clouds obscuring the sky no longer hindered his vision. Everything alive glowed with a beautiful warm light. His hearing had improved to at least canine level, and most probably beyond. The slightest and softest noise was loud to his sensitive ears. He could hear heartbeats in the distance, along with noises of motorcycles and gunshots. Closer to the grave were the tiny 'heartbeats' of insects and grubs. The ground beneath him had a fascinating texture. It was like he could feel each separate grain of dirt under his feet. He knelt down for a moment and sifted the dirt through his fingers, amazed at his sensitivity to touch.
But it was his sense of smell that was commanding his attention. It kept telling him, "Blood is near, blood is near, blood is near. . . .", making his growing thirst simply unbearable. He began his search for the blood, moving in an almost ghostly manner over the ground. He tracked the warm, delicious smell to the morgue. He could see, hear, and smell two guards inside, as well as the coroner and a still full vat of blood from recently embalmed people. Sniffing the air and listening closely, he could also detect a gang of young men coming to deface headstones. Which to choose for his first vampire meal?
He decided for the morgue. The gang members were a tempting choice, but he didn't want to risk injury in his first night as a vampire. He searched the building carefully, finding a window near the vat of blood. He carefully slipped it open, hearing the lock crack as the sash pulled up. He climbed in and sniffed the air. The blood was in a back room, just waiting for him to dip his fangs in and drink it. He snuck close to the doorway and looked into the room. There was the beckoning blood vat - but also the coroner. He'd have to lure him away somehow.
As he thought, he heard one of the guards coming into the room. His flashlight beam preceded him, sweeping the dark room for intruders. Doc ducked deeper into the shadows, one hand clinging to the wall. His abnormally long nails dug into the wood.
The flashlight beam drew nearer. Instinctively Doc climbed up the wall, his nails helping him grip. It took him a minute to realize what he was doing. Unthinking, he gasped in surprise.
Luckily, the guard coughed just then. With a final quick sweep, he seemed satisfied. "Come on, Larry! That's a job that can wait until morning. Nobody's gonna touch that."
Larry the embalmer left the vat of blood he had been draining and followed the guard. Doc considered taking his blood, but one look at his mummified countenance convinced him not to. He stole into the room and dipped his hands into the blood vat. His eyes glowing cinnamon brown, he gulped down the blood. Even though he was drinking from a pool, his fangs extended anyway, drawing up blood along grooves on the back. He leaned over the side and started drinking it from the vat, covering himself with blood.
After about 5 minutes, he was finally satisfied. He looked down at himself and chuckled at the complete mess he was. He was almost perversely good Josie wasn't here to see him. He needed a bath, a shave, a haircut, a nail trim, and a change of clothes immediately. But where could he go to get one?
"Wait. . . . My old home might still be standing. I could hide there until I find Josie. Nobody will notice. How will I get there without being seen, though?"
He pulled out his letter. Maybe it had the answers he needed.
If you want to get around quickly and invisibly (which I'm sure you do) just stretch your back muscles.
Doc blinked. Stretch his back muscles? Of what use would they be? Still, Josie had to know what she was talking about. And he did have a few kinks in his back. He stretched.
He heard and felt his shirt shred in the back. Confused, he looked behind him - and gasped.
Protruding from his back were 2 beautiful jet black bat wings, just the right size to support his weight. He looked at the letter:
Surprise! All you have to do is fly above the smog. I'm shocked you never noticed mine. They fold up onto the back when you don't need them.
"So those are what those mysterious ridges were," Doc said aloud. "I always thought they were a deformity. Was I ever wrong!" He gave his wings a test flap. They worked perfectly. Excited, he raced back to the window and took off into the air.
Flying was everything he'd imagined it to be in his youth. It was exhilarating to be able to cleave the sky and leave the rest of the mortals behind. Hill Valley looked much different from the air, Doc observed as he flew. Faint glows emanated from the houses, showing where the people were inside. All-too-familiar sounds and smells, new in intensity, assaulted his ears and nose. Smog and gunpowder, screams of pain and terror and police siren's wailing - all the same as they were 2 years ago. Doc shuddered as he recalled what had happened to his hometown. It had probably gotten worse in the 2 years he had been removed from it.
Flying over the Town Square confirmed that. The combination of bright neon and and life glows hurt Doc's eyes. There were more smells and sounds than he could count. He could hear bikers, prostitutes, and other lowlifes offering themselves for sex and torturing the unfortunate homeless. Drunks staggered all over the place. Drugs and alcohol were the dominant smells, but there was also urine, semen, and a host of other disgusting scents. And towering above it all was the horrific facade of the Pleasure Paradise. Doc flipped it off as he flew past.
He located his abandoned house/garage/lab a few blocks away. Both the Burger King and the porn shop near it seemed to be vacated. Feeling he was safe, he landed and sighed at the graffiti decorating the outside of his home. Ignoring the death threats and various slurs toward him, he proceeded in.
And promptly stepped on a piece of glass.
"OW! Son of a b*tch," Doc grumbled, lifting his foot. To his surprise, the wound healed almost instantly. He set his foot down carefully and looked around. The entire place had been trashed. Most of his experiments had been torn to pieces. Broken lab equipment littered the floor, sharing space with old newspapers and used hypodermics. Every window had been smashed, and he could smell urine soaked into the floor. He felt like vomiting.
His keen sense of smell led him to a small fresh corpse in the corner. Tears filled his eyes as he realized it was his beloved dog Einstein. With no one to take care of him, the sheepdog/bearded collie mix had had to fight for himself. The other occupants of the house must have abused him so much, he had perished. Tears streaming down his face, Doc picked his way toward him and tenderly lifted the dog's body to his chest. "I'm sorry, boy," he whispered, cuddling it. "I'm so sorry."
He spotted a weakly glowing life form near a bunch of other corpses. Setting Einstein down gently, he went over to investigate. It turned out to be a month-old puppy, crying and nudging his mother. Beside him were the bodies of his littermates and mother, a Jack Russell terrier. He was the only survivor of whatever had killed his parents and siblings.
Doc carefully picked up the puppy, who whined piteously. Doc knew he had to take care of him for Einstein's sake. 'Don't worry - Edison," he whispered into the puppy's ear. "I'll take care of you. Nobody's going to hurt you anymore."
Edison whined and tried to suckle his fingers. Doc cradled the puppy and flew to a nearby drugstore. It was closed for repairs, but Doc easily broke in. He grabbed some dog food, milk, baby formula, and heavy cream to make some puppy food. He also found an eyedropper with which to feed him, then beat it out of there. His conscience bothered him about stealing, but he knew he had no other choice.
He returned home and made up a formula for his new puppy to eat. Edison took to the stuff immediately and drank a whole bowlful through the eyedropper. Doc got an old coat and Einstein's old bed and created a nest for Edison to sleep in. He tucked the puppy in safe and waited for him to fall asleep. Then he took the other dogs, flew them to the cemetery and gave them a solemn burial by George McFly's grave.
He returned home, checked on Edison, then settled down nearby to read the rest of Josie's letter. It described in exacting detail his condition. He could fly, read minds, and hypnotize people with his stare. His strength was much increased and he could never get sick. Normal food and drink was out of the question now ("It'll make 'shopping' much easier, at least."). He'd have to feed the next night, and every other night he woke up after that. There was a warning against soulless vampires - evil creatures who tortured others for fun. Then some tips on how to live the night life, and a final "I love you" and goodbye.
But these were only her words. What had happened to Josephine herself?
Doc was wondering if he should go back to the cemetery and look for her when he spotted a paper by his foot. It was the Hill Valley Telegraph, dated yesterday. The headline read:
SOUTHDALE ASYLUM UNSAFE FOR PATIENTS
Doc snorted. He could have told them that. He picked up the paper and began reading the article. It detailed first his own death from an unknown disease. Doc smiled as he read Dr. Adams's comments on him 'making real progress at the time of his death'. Then it went on to describe Josephine's 'death' by the electro-convulsive therapy equipment. "A healing coma," Doc realized. "Maybe she's buried in a grave herself. I'd better get-"
His eyes found the next line:
At the order of her sister, Miss Lacy Grey, Miss Josephine Grey was cremated this afternoon.
Horror flooded Doc's mind. Cremated. They had murdered his Josephine. His Josie. His friend. His lover.
The scientist sunk into despair. He was free, but he had lost his one true love. The one person he had wanted to be free for. The one person he had expected to share eternity with. Sobbing like a baby, he slumped to the floor, his will to live gone. He couldn't go on without Josephine. He just couldn't. "Josie. . . . Oh, god, Josie. . . ."
For a minute, he considered ending it all. It would be so easy to just set this place ablaze and let the flames consume him. Then he heard a soft whine from Edison's nest. He looked over at the puppy, who was awake and hungry. No. He couldn't die. Josie wouldn't have wanted him to commit suicide. And he was still needed - still loved by someone. He would find a way to live.
He fed Edison, then looked back at the paper. "At the order of her sister, Miss Lacy Grey," he read, a growl rising in his throat. "I may not have been able to save you, Josie, but I'll get you revenge. I swear on your ashes I'll get you revenge."
Wednesday, November 27th
7: 04 P. M.
Lacy Grey was packing her things when she heard the knock at the door. She answered it, thinking it was a newspaper reporter. "I already gave my-"
She abruptly found herself pinned to the wall by an enraged old-looking vampire, eyes glowing like hot coals. Her surprise faded quickly into anger. "Who the f**k are you?" she hissed, vamping.
"Your sister's lover," Doc hissed back. "She was my cellmate in Southdale. She transformed me to get me out of that hell-hole. I loved her. And then you had to go and burn her to death." His grip tightened, digging his claws into her shoulders. "We had a whole life planned out, and you took it away from us. Now, I'm going to take your life from you." Without further ado, he tore into her neck, sucking her blood with an animal ferocity.
Lacy shoved him off and tried to attack him with her nails. Doc avoided her and leapt on her back, clawing her viciously. She gave as good as she got, hissing and biting whatever was in range.
For a few minutes, they struggled, trading superficial injuries that healed quickly. Then Lacy grabbed from her shelves an emergency stake she kept for her vampire attackers. She grabbed Doc by the back of the neck to hold him still and aimed for his heart. But before she could thrust it in, Doc grabbed the stake and slammed down on it. With a shriek of pain, Lacy went still, impaled on the wrong end.
Doc grinned in victory - then realized what he had let himself become in the fight. He had taken so much pleasure in trying to murder Lacy he had completely forgotten his humanity. He could see Josie's disappointed frown in his mind.
He slowly stood up and looked at the she-vampire. "Consider that notice served," he told her. "Get out of here before sunrise or I take you to the crematorium." His conscience slightly soothed, he flew back home, vowing never to let his emotions get the better of him again. He had to stay sane for Edison and Josie's memory. He just had to.
