Chapter 5
Wednesday, October 21st
7: 43 P. M.
Startled, Doc stepped back. The door remained open. Marty's daughter -- did that woman say her name was Marlene? -- must not have closed it properly, he realized. He waited for the door to shut by itself, but it remained stubbornly open. Maybe it's broken. I wouldn't be surprised.
It occurred to him that this was a perfect opportunity to sneak in and take a look around. For a moment, he chastised himself. He had a lot of nerve to think he could just invade someone's privacy like that! But the curious, concerned part of him argued that he had an obligation. Marty had asked him to check up on his future, and frankly he wanted to make sure all was well. Besides, just leaving the door open like that could be an invitation to less savory individuals. . . .
For someone with the noblest intentions for humanity, you're quite prone to criminal activity, Doc scolded himself as he slipped in silently. He pushed the door closed behind him, looking to the stairs to make sure no one was coming down. A slight click told him the door was now shut properly. After a quick double-check of the stairwell, he felt free to examine the room.
That room, as he saw it, was very shabby. The wallpaper was peeling in spots, and almost every piece of furniture was patched up or dented. Doc doubted any of it was post-2000. The windows were streaked and spotted, and the shades covering them were very worn out. Doc did a double take as he glanced at one. It appeared to be showing a spectacular view of a garden estate, with manicured lawns and a gazebo. On closer inspection, he could see static on the bottom. A voice informed him abruptly, "Showing beautiful views 24 hours a day, you're tuned to the Scenery Channel."
In the adjoining room, or more accurately the second half of the room, a large, flat screen -- a TV/phone, no doubt -- and a fax machine were built into the wall. Some cheap furnishings were scattered here and there, but what caught Doc's eye was the bookcase back in the better-lit section. He moved over and examined the shelves. They contained a number of small books, most by George McFly. Picking one up, he saw it was labeled "vidbook." He opened it to see a video screen and a pad of some sort. He pressed the pad experimentally, but it didn't do anything. "Play?" he suggested to it.
It immediately responded, the video screen displaying a movie while a narrator read out an introduction. Doc hastily turned it back off and replaced it with its fellows. As he examined the other shelves, he saw that one shelf seemed to be dedicated to personal vidbooks. I suppose those might work like video cameras back in 1985. He read off some of the labels:
50TH ANNIVERSARY, GEORGE AND LORRAINE
FAMILY VACATIONS, 2005-2010
FAMILY VACATIONS, 2000-2005
MARTY JR. AND MARLENE: VOL. 1
MARTY JR. AND MARLENE: VOL. 2
DOC AND MARTY: 1986 TRANSFER
Doc had to smile at that one.
He turned his attention to the pictures that lined the top. He quickly recognized the one of himself and Marty in front of the amplifier. There were also quite a few of the kids at different ages. But the one that attracted him the most was on the corner of the bookcase. He picked it up and looked at it. It was Marty and Jennifer's wedding photo, but it was as far from what Doc had expected as possible. Marty was wearing a black shirt with a tux front printed on it, and Jennifer had a veil but just a regular short dress. They were standing with two seedy-looking people in front of a church-like building. Stunned, Doc read the name. "The Chapel O'Love? That's in Las Vegas!" he exclaimed, for a moment forgetting caution. "They must have eloped. Great Scott, Marty, what possessed you to run off and get married in Vegas?!"
Just then, the doorbell rang, startling Doc out of his introspection. It unceremoniously dawned on him he was standing out in the open and had no exit out of the house! Dropping the picture, he started looking for a place to hide. Seeing a door with a handle in the darker section of the room, he yanked the door open to find a bathroom. Should he?
He could see Marlene's feet as she came downstairs. It appeared he had no choice. He ducked inside and prayed the visitors didn't have full bladders.
He cracked the door open a bit as the front door whooshed open. He could see an elderly woman just in his line of sight. "Grandma Lorraine!" Marlene exclaimed happily.
"Sweetheart!" Lorraine replied. They kissed each other on the cheek. Doc noted that Marty's mother looked pretty good for her age. She's probably had a few RevitaClinc visits.
Marlene stepped aside to let her grandmother in, then noticed someone else out of Doc's line of vision. "Grandpa! You threw your back out again?!"
"How's Granddad's little pumpkin?" George's raspy voice asked from the doorway,
"How you'd do that? How'd he do that?" Marlene asked both George and Lorraine as he floated in. Doc's eyes widened as he saw George strapped in upside-down to a hovering machine. How on earth that could help George's back is beyond me, but then I have no medical training. The doctors of the future must know what they're doing. Hopefully.
"Out on the golf course," George answered, pushing back his cowlick. He hovered down slightly and picked something up off the floor. Doc nearly panicked when he saw it was the dropped wedding photo, but the author just put it back on the shelf. The scientist noted with a smile that he put it back upside-down.
Lorraine, holding up a little silver bag, smiled sweetly at Marlene. Doc could just make out the words Pizza Hut on the side. "Are your folks home? I brought dinner for everyone!"
Doc blinked. Dinner? That doesn't contain enough for one person, let alone six people. Unless the food has had its volume reduced somehow. Marlene further confused him by saying, "Oh, who's going to eat all that?"
"Oh, I will!" volunteered George eagerly.
Lorraine noticed the static-filled shade. "Oh, don't tell me this thing is still broken." She retrieved a remote control from the coffee table and clicked it a few times. The scene changed to a tropical isle, then to the skyline of New York, then to a forest. Every location had some sort of problem, mostly with the static and the vertical hold. Disgusted, Lorraine finally shut it off. "We really should buy you a new one."
Marlene shrugged. "You know Dad, he'd get pissquanced. He's always complaining about how little money he makes."
"Didn't he say recently he was going to get it fixed?" George wondered.
"The repairman was a real jerk," Marlene muttered. "After he said--" she paused, as if considering whether or not to repeat what he had said. "Well, it was the usual about him and them. Dad got furious and kicked him out. Now we can't get anybody to fix it."
Lorraine rolled up the shade/screen. "Look how worn out this is." The real view outside was much less pleasant, revealing a paint-chipped house and a ton of trash. "But I can't blame your father for getting mad at that. If the repairman had called him 'chicken,' though. . . ."
Marlene gave an exaggerated sigh. "Grandma, I've heard the story a million times! Give it a rest already!"
Ignore her, Lorraine. Tell it again. Doc thought, suddenly very interested. He knew that Marty's Achilles heel was being called "chicken." No matter what the dare or demand, he'd do it if you called him "chicken." He had explained to Doc once that it was a matter of pride. Being called that name made him feel like a coward, like someone totally opposite from his confident father. Doc had tried to tell him that his self-esteem shouldn't depend on what others thought of him, but the teen didn't understand. At least he didn't go crazy when someone called him the name. But now, in the future, had his reaction gotten worse?
"I'm sorry, Marlene. I just don't want you to end up in the same mess. After all, getting all upset whenever he was called 'chicken' sent his whole life down the tubes. He has no common sense."
"Grandma, he's your son," Marlene protested. "You shouldn't be virusing him."
"I'm not, I feel bad for him. I don't want his children to suffer his fate." She shook her head as Marlene rolled her eyes. "Never let yourself be goaded into doing something. When your father tried to prove he wasn't chicken--"
"He met his best friend?" Marlene grinned.
"Marlie, honey, that was different. Marty used at least the slightest bit of common sense there. But in the car accident, he didn't use any. He didn't even think before he decided to drag race that car. And that's how he crashed into the Rolls Royce."
"You're garbed on that, Grandma. Dad always told me the Rolls Royce crashed into him," Marlene said defensively.
"The woman in the Rolls wasn't so good a driver, but it was Marty who pulled in front of him and who was illegally street racing," George pointed out.
Lorraine shook her head again. "That accident changed your father's entire life. He broke his hand, Jennifer broke her leg, the driver sued him and pressed charges. . . . Marty's life was completely ruined. He got too self-pityish. He just gave up on life." She wagged her finger in Marlene's face. "The real reason your mother married him was because she felt sorry for him. Jennifer deserved better."
"Mom really loves Dad," Marlene snapped.
"Lorraine, that is mean," George agreed, floating over.
"I guess it is," Lorraine conceded. "But she gets tranqued every night. Poor girl. October 27th, 1985 turned their lives 180°. And then, 2 years later. . . ." Her face grew very sad.
"Grandma, don't," Marlene said, frowning. "That story always makes me cry."
"All right. It makes me cry too, to tell the truth." There was a brief silence, then Lorraine broached a new subject. "Where's your brother?"
"Still upstairs, doin' homework. He told me he went to the Cafe 80s for lunch 'cause one of his classes after was free, and Griff got on his case again."
"Dear me, is he still bullying you two?"
"Mostly Marty J right now. It's Spike who really digs into me. Just 'cause she has a boyfriend and I don't." Marlene seemed depressed at that admission. Lorraine patted her on the shoulder in a comforting way.
"You'll find one soon enough, honey." Smiling at George, she added, "Who knows, you may make an adventure out of it. Like we did."
Footsteps from above alerted Doc to the fact that Marty Junior was on his way down. "Finally finished that junk. Hey Grandma, hey Grandpa."
"How are you, Junior?" George asked with a grin.
"I really gotta go," Marty Junior admitted. Doc felt his heart skip a beat as the teen turned toward the bathroom. Oh, shit, he thought, starting to panic. Where could he go now!?
He spotted a second door behind him and darted through. It led to the kitchen -- where the other three were heading! Terrified, he looked for a place to hide. Spotting a small closet just a few steps away, he yanked it open to find it occupied by a small robotic vacuum cleaner. Doc just managed to squeeze himself in and closed the door as far as it would go.
No one noticed him, to his great relief. Lorraine and George chatted about seemingly unimportant things while Marlene began setting the table. Marty Junior joined them after five excruciating minutes, allowing Doc to slip unnoticed back into the bathroom. Whew, that was close.
He heard the front door unlock. "Welcome home, Jennifer," the mechanical voice announced. Doc opened the door a crack and peeked out. It was Jennifer, all right, but she was so much older and grayer. Her once curly and bright hair had turned dull and limp. She had dark circles under her eyes and many deep wrinkles. Doc noted she walked with a slight limp. Right now, she was also weaving her way in the door.
Marty Junior and Lorraine came out to greet her. "Oh, honey, let me take those," Lorraine said, taking the two grocery bags Jennifer clutched.
"You don't have to do that, Lorraine," Jennifer replied, her words very slurred.
"It's okay, dear. I brought dinner anyway."
"How are ya, Ma?" Marty Junior asked calmly, standing by her side.
"Oh, I'm fine, Junior," Jennifer said, giving her son an exaggerated smile. Doc could hardly believe this was the same girl who, in 1985, eschewed alcohol because her mother had been killed by a drunk driver. Things had certainly changed. "How wash schoool?"
"Good, good." Lorraine brought the groceries into the kitchen while Jennifer and Marty Junior sat down in front of the TV. "Art off," Marty Junior commanded, spinning his chair from side to side. The rather garish painting on the screen vanished. "Okay, I want channels 18, 24, 109, 63, 87 and the Weather Channel." The screen lit up in six rectangular sections, each broadcasting a different show. Jennifer sobered up enough to see tomorrow's forecast. "More rain tomorrow," she reported to no one in particular.
The front door unlocked again, this time with the greeting, "Welcome home, Marty, lord of the manor, king of the castle." Doc shifted his attention as Marty came in with a loud, "Hey, I'm home, Dad's home!" His best friend looked just as bad as Jennifer. His face was a mass of wrinkles, and his hair was thinning fast. He was wearing a worn business suit with a pair of ties, each printed with one half of a sunburst design. What happened to his music career? Whenever he asked me about it, my probability rates based on his talent and ambition gave him a good chance of getting into the business. It's possible he works at a studio, but I doubt it.
He drew back as Marty stopped perilously close to the door. "What the hell is this?" Marty muttered, adjusting something on the wall. "Lithium mode on," it announced to him. "That's better. Damn kids." He shook his head, then noticed Jennifer and Marty Junior. "Hey son," he greeted his boy, who was engrossed in his TV-watching. Doc wasn't sure how, as he was having trouble keeping track of what was on which station. "Watching a little TV for a change?"
Marty Junior didn't give his dad the time of day. Marty turned his attention to Jennifer. "Hey, sweetheart," he said, his raspy voice warm.
Jennifer gave him a drunken smile. "Hi, Marty," she replied just as warmly, leaning up to kiss him. She nearly overcompensated, but Marty held her up and kissed her gently. Doc was glad to see that, despite all that seemed to have happened to them, they still loved each other.
Marty smiled at Jennifer, then went to the kitchen. "Is that my Mom? Is that my Mom?" he asked, seeing Lorraine. He gave his mother a peck on the cheek.
"Hello, dear," Lorraine said cheerfully. I brought dinner."
"Mom, you shouldn't have," Marty smiled. "Hey, princess," he called to Marlene, back to setting the table. She smiled at him. He turned to George. "Hey Dad, what did you do to your back? Are you okay?"
"Oh, I was on the golf course," George began.
"Dad, I told you to watch that back swing."
Lorraine shook her head with a frown. "No, a car hit him. It just fell out of the sky. He could've been killed!"
"And I was two under par!" George complained. Doc somehow repressed the urge to roll his eyes.
Lorraine smiled at her husband and then looked at Marty with motherly concern. "How was work, Marty?"
"Mom, I'm telling you, that big promotion is just around the corner. But right now, I'm starved! Let's eat!" He walked back out to retrieve Junior. "Time to eat."
Junior, his cap discarded and slumped in his chair, spun to look at his father. "Dad, I'm watching these programs," he whined.
"Young man, we eat at the table when your grandparents are here," Marty said sternly. He picked up a pair of blue glasses much like the ones Doc had used for driving and tossed them into Marty Junior's lap. "Take your damn glasses."
Junior got up and put the glasses on with an annoyed look on his face. "Dad, I can only watch two shows at once with these things."
Marty shook his head. "Yeah, you kids have it rough. When I was your age, if I wanted to watch two shows at once, I had to put two sets next to each other." Junior just shrugged and headed for the kitchen, leaving Marty to straighten the screen. "Art on," he said, restoring the painting, then turned to help Jennifer out of her seat. "How much did you have tonight, honey?"
"Only two bottles," Jennifer slurred.
"Of what?" Marty probed.
"Scotch. I brought home some too, for you tomorr--" Suddenly, she seemed to sober up the slightest bit. "Oh, Marty, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to mention it."
"It's all right, Jennifer," Marty said, looking a little hurt. "What happened shouldn't be completely forbidden to talk about around this household. And besides, I think I will need a belt tomorrow." He walked her into the kitchen.
Doc frowned as he watched them go. Should I take this chance and make my escape? I've really seen all I needed to see. And besides, there seems to be some hushed discussion of my own fate in this household. No man should know too much about his future, after all.
But I don't want to go just yet. I've already seen so much of Marty's life. Is it possible that it is completely ruined in this form of the time-line? And besides, my disappearance is apparently a sore point with my best friend. As I suppose it would be with any sane person who lost a friend. Damn curiosity. Good thing I'm not a cat. Giving in to his urge, he moved over to the kitchen door.
Most of the family was seated around the table. Lorraine was bustling around, getting things ready. She tore open the tiny bag and removed an equally tiny pizza. "Hey, pizza! When it's done, can you just shove it in my mouth?" Marty Junior asked, following his statement with a very geeky laugh.
"Now don't you be a smart-@$$," Marty said sternly.
"Oh, great, the Atrocity Channel," Marty Junior replied. He had a little Marty in him at least.
Lorraine set the baby pizza on a tray and slid it into a strange-looking device. Doc pulled out his binoculars to get a better look. Black and Decker Hydrator? Ah, the food must be freeze-dried to reduce volume!
His hypothesis was confirmed a moment later as Lorraine instructed, "Hydrate level 4, please." The hydrator gurgled for a moment, then dinged. Lorraine pulled free a full-sized pizza. The sight of it made Doc's mouth water. When had he last eaten, anyway? Hours ago it must have been.
"Is it ready?" Marty Junior asked loudly. This time around Doc couldn't help but roll his eyes. The teen had waited a minute, tops.
"Here you go," Lorraine said, setting it on the table. Everybody promptly dug in.
"Boy oh boy, Mom, you sure can hydrate a pizza," Marty gently ribbed as he ate. "I'm sorry I missed that whole thing."
"Whoo-hoo! Yeah!" Marty Junior yelled, off in his own little world. Doc could see "54" displayed on one side of his blue video-glasses, "39" on the other. I wonder what on earth he's watching. Probably two channels at once again.
Jennifer thoughtfully chewed her slice. She seemed to be slowly sobering. "How was work, Marty?"
"Same old, same old. But performance reviews are coming up, and I think I've got a good chance of climbing up the ladder," Marty said brightly.
Marty Junior noticed he had no drink. "Hey, can I have some tea? Please?"
"Pass the kelp tea," Marty told his daughter.
Marlene paused in her mysterious non-stop chatter. "Dad, I'm on the phone."
"You still have arms," Marty pointed out. Marlene sighed dramatically but pushed the kelp tea closer to her brother. "Yeah, family interrupting as usual," she told whomever she was talking to. "Now, what do you think of that kid in biology?"
Lorraine brought a slice of pizza over to George. "George, rotate your axis. Eating while you're inverted isn't good for your digestion."
"Okay, dear." George pressed a button on a remote he held and started turning. "Fore," he joked, laughing. His laugh was geeky too, a comforting reminder of 1985. Lorraine laughed along and kissed him.
"Oh, Marty, I forgot to ask. Whatever happened with your application to help out at R & D?" Lorraine wondered as she came back over.
Marty scowled at his plate. "They rejected it. I didn't have the right qualifications," he said bitterly. Jennifer patted his arm in a comforting way.
"Ah, pitcher's got a bionic arm," Marty Junior said, oblivious to what was around him.
"Yeah, he's cute. Think he's interested in me too," Marlene giggled, similarly so. Her smile abruptly disappeared as both kids' glasses began to ring, flashing the word "PHONE" in red on each pair. "Dad, telephone," Marty Junior said in a bored voice.
"Yeah, Dad, it's for you," Marlene agreed, looking a little annoyed that she had been interrupted so many times.
Marty cleared his throat. Doc could sense he was nervous about something. "I'll take it in the den," he said, going back into the TV room. Doc returned to his previous spot to see the art channel still on, only with "INCOMING CALL" superimposed over the painting. "I'm here."
The art was shunted to one corner as a person's face appeared. Doc didn't need to read the identification code at the bottom; the man was Needles! There's something I thought wasn't statistically possible. Marty and Needles working together.
Needles smiled at Marty, not looking all too different from their schooldays together. You think he would have bothered with corrective dental surgery by now.
"Hey, the big M! How's it hangin', McFly?"
"Hey Needles," Marty greeted him, the nervousness still apparent in his manner.
Needles either didn't notice or didn't care. "So, McFly, you been thinking about our little opportunity?" he asked easily. "Everybody else is getting in on it."
"I don't know, Needles," Marty said, sounding exactly like his son had hours earlier. Doc's stomach twisted itself into a nervous knot.
"What are you so worried about? If this works, it'll solve all your financial problems!"
"And if it doesn't, I could get fired! It's illegal, Needles!" Marty burst out suddenly. "I mean--," his voice dropped, "--what if the Jitz is monitoring?"
"The Jitz will never find out!" Needles shoved Marty's concern aside. "This plan is foolproof."
"I still might make it into R & D," Marty muttered, still reluctant. Doc observed the scene closely, now understanding how Marty Junior had ended up the way he had. Hopefully, in this instance at least, the father would be smarter than the son. "I do have some experience. I want to make sure everything's all set before I go along with this."
"They'll never accept you, McFly. Come on, just stick your card in the scanner." Marty turned away, thinking hard. "Unless you want everyone in the department to think you're -- chicken?"
It was fascinating, watching Marty's new reaction to the word. Back in 1985, Marty simply had the tendency to tense and show some temper. Now his entire body went stiff and his eyes filled with rage. He spun to face the screen. "Nobody calls me chicken, Needles, NOBODY!" he yelled. Doc was surprised nobody came out of the kitchen to see what was happening.
"Fine. Prove it," Needles grinned.
Marty hesitated for just an instant more. Then he walked over to the closet and retrieved his briefcase. Setting the briefcase on an ottoman, he hit a button on it. A scanner rose out of the top of the briefcase as he pulled a card from his pocket. "Here's my card, Needles." He swiped it through the scanner. "Scan it! I'm in!"
Doc slapped his hand over his eyes. Oh, no. . . Marty, why did you let him get to you? Why did you commit an illegal act? Who am I to talk, though, really. But Marty, I thought you would have had more sense than that.
Needles kept smiling. His grin almost seemed -- wicked. "Thanks, McFly. See you at the plant tomorrow." He hung up. Marty closed up his briefcase with a sigh as the AT&T logo came on the TV.
Then it happened. A new man, this time Japanese, appeared on the screen, looking throughly pissed. "MCFLY!"
Both Doc and Marty jumped. Marty spun again, a terrified look on his face. "Fujitsu-san! Koneechewa!" he blurted, bowing. Doc realized that this had to be Marty's boss, the aforementioned "Jitz". His heart sank.
"McFly, I was monitoring that scan you just interfaced. YOU ARE TERMINATED!"
"Terminated? No! No, I can explain!" Marty begged. "It was Needles! He told me to do it!"
"And you cooperated!" Fujitsu seethed.
"No, I was setting him up, it was a sting," Marty babbled, desperate to save his job.
Fujitsu cut in quickly. "McFly, read my fax!" He pressed a button, and 2 large boldface words flashed on the screen:
YOU'RE FIRED!!!
"No, I can't be fired, I'm fired," Marty moaned. Fax machines all over the house sprang into action, printing out the words of doom. Even in the bathroom, a paper came out. Doc pulled it free and looked at it. It was basically just a repeat of the words on company paper - Cusco Industries, whatever that was.
Marty pulled his copy out of his briefcase, looked at it a second, then crumpled it against his forehead. "This is heavy. How am I going to tell Jennifer and the kids?"
"I suspect they already know," Fujitsu said none too gently. "Due to your out of date systems."
"Well, I can't afford to remove the faxes and covert to strict e-mail," Marty snapped. Then his tone became pleading. "Listen, at least fire Needles too. As a favor to me."
"I owe you no favors!" Fujitsu snarled. "You were just a cog in my machine! An easily replaceable part. And while we're on the subject, why on earth did you try to get into Research and Development?" His tone was vaguely provoking. Doc suspected he was doing this for his own amusement.
"It sounded like fun," Marty mumbled, turning away again.
"But you had no qualifications! Only some experience with that crackpot Dr. Brown!"
Marty's body snapped stiff for the second time that night. His eyes narrowed, turning icy. "What did you say about Doc?" he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
"He was a crackpot! A lunatic! A poor excuse for a scientist if there ever was one!" Doc winced a little as the comments came. No matter how many variations of them he heard, they still hurt to a degree.
Marty turned to face the screen, obviously enraged. "Never -- speak -- that -- way -- about -- Doc," he growled, his voice deadly. "He was a genius. The smartest man ever to have lived. The man who supported me no matter what. And I won't have anyone bad-mouthing him. Least of all you."
"He was insane," Fujitsu argued, looking a little less sure of himself.
"He was NOT INSANE!" Marty exploded. "Who are you to judge him?! You never knew him! Nobody knew him except me! You were all a bunch of animals, rejecting him just because he was different. But I knew him, and he was a genius! The best guy I ever was friends with! You know what? Take your job and shove it up yours."
Fujitsu just stared at him for a moment, then cut the connection. Marty glared at the screen of art, seething over the insults dealt to his best friend. Then his shoulders slumped, and Doc sensed that his mood had swung from extreme anger to extreme sadness. He looked at Marty worriedly. It was nice to know Marty was loyal to his memory, but there was a fine line between loyalty and obsession, one that Marty seemed straddling. It was like whatever had happened to him had had a profound effect on his friend. But could his disappearance or eventual death really affect him like this?
Marty turned from the screen and picked up an old blue guitar. He sat down with it and started playing, stretching the fingers of his right hand. What came out of the instrument was a very lousy rendition of the song "Power of Love". Doc sighed. All that talent wasted.
Suddenly Marty put the guitar aside and got up. He headed to the bookcase and pulled out a vidbook. Retrieving a coil sitting on a shelf nearby, he connected the large screen to the video book with the coil and opened the book up. "Play Chapter 1," Marty instructed it, then sat down as the images appeared on the screen.
Doc watched the movie with interest. AUG. 2, 1986 was clearly printed in the lower left corner, meaning this would be filmed not too far in his own future. The first few minutes only showed the McFly yard and house. Then the George of 1986 yelled, "I got it working again, Lorraine!" Lorraine's off-camera voice yelled back, "Now don't drop the camera again! I don't care how confident you are that it won't break!" Doc barely suppressed his giggles.
The scene changed to his own house, filmed through the fence. George narrated as he opened the fence and went inside. "We're on the hunt today for one of the stranger creatures of suburbia -- the elusive Docis Brownus."
Oh, brother, Doc thought, smiling. He told himself he should really try to ignore the video and look for a means of escape, but he couldn't take his eyes away. He was too caught up in what was happening. Or, more accurately from his standpoint, what would happen. You really are a hypocrite, aren't you?
Shut up, he told his conscience as the tape continued, now inside his house. It was a mess as usual, with experiments and fast food wrappers everywhere. "This is the nest of the local Docis Brownus. As you can see, the animal has strong packrat instincts, using all manner of objects to furnish its territory. It is also an inventive creature, using liquids and metals it finds in strange and unusual ways. Some scientists have contended that the acts by this creature could be deemed AHHH!"
The camera abruptly showed a very nice view of his floor. "Very funny, Doc!" George'86's voice came, sounding very upset. "Lorraine's going to kill me for dropping it again!"
"Don't worry, George, I think it's okay." The version of him circa 1986 picked up the recorder and looked at it. "It's still functioning. You're safe." He turned the camera to show a sopping wet George McFly. "Give a smile for the video recording unit!"
George'86 gave him a look. "Give me that!" he snapped, yanking the camera out of Doc'86's hands. He turned it to show Doc'86, smiling mischievously, attired in a t-shirt and a pair of cutoffs. "What was that for?"
"Doc and I were having a water fight," Marty'86's voice said behind him. George'86 turned to see his son in cutoffs and a t-shirt, too, and holding a water balloon. "We heard you come in and he decided to use his bucket on you instead of me. Thanks, Dad."
"Do me a favor and get him with the balloon." Marty'86 gladly did so, drenching Doc'86's shirt. The scientist yanked a water gun from his waistband and started squirting the teen. "I swear, every time you two get together, you act like little kids."
"It's summer, and I've never been too fond of acting mature in this season," Doc'86 smiled.
"That's what you said about winter too. You're not mature in any season."
"I've never known you to act decidedly mature in summer yourself," Doc'86 said.
"I'm mature!" George'86 protested, sounding decidedly immature.
"What do you call that documentary you were just making, Dad?" Marty'86 asked, grinning.
"Well . . . More mature than you." The camera panned around the house. "Do you ever clean up this place, Doc?"
"Nah. It's my own special system of organization. One you 'normal people' wouldn't understand."
"Bet Marty would understand, considering he's over here practically every day."
Marty'86 gave Doc'86 a very quick friendly squeeze. "Hey, we're best buddies. What do you expect me to do, stay away from him?"
Doc became distracted from the film by a noise, one that was firmly mired in the present. He looked to see Marty with his face in his hands, weeping. "Doc. . . I'm so sorry. . . ."
Before Doc could wonder about the cryptic meaning of that statement, Lorraine came in, holding one of the faxes. "Marty, what's the meaning--"
She stopped as she saw the movie playing on the screen. "Marty," she said softly, disturbed. "Honey, you shouldn't be watching this. You know how these movies depress you."
"I can't help it. I miss him so much." Marty looked up at the Movie Doc again. "And it was all my fault he left. All my fault."
"Don't talk like that. It was never your fault."
"It was so! I wasn't there for him when he needed me most. And he knew it. Mom, his last words to me were 'I hate you.' And I don't blame him in the least for hating me."
Lorraine took Marty's arm. "He didn't hate you. He was just angry and confused." She turned off the vidbook and gently brought him to his feet. "Come on, finish your pizza and then we'll deal with this fax." She led Marty out of the room.
The scientist stared, all his thoughts about not knowing his own fate flying out the window. It was rare to see Marty crying. When he did, it usually meant he was hurting deeply. And the way Marty had been sobbing right then had touched Doc in a way nothing else could. Something horrible must have happened to us to make him react like that at the sight of me, he realized. Especially if my last words to him were "I hate you." Why on earth would I say that to Marty? What possibly could have happened to make me hate my best friend? The kid who saved my life, no less. I have to find out.
He thrust the fax he had grabbed from the machine into his pocket and started looking for an escape route before anyone else needed to go. He nearly laughed when he found it -- a window right behind his back. How could I have missed that? Hopefully it doesn't have an alarm on it. He cautiously pushed it up. Nothing happened, so he opened it all the way and crawled out. After closing it to the best of his ability from the outside, he started walking back to the DeLorean, pondering all of his newly-gained information. Next stop -- the library. I need answers, and I need them now.