Disclaimer: I do not own Back To The Future or its characters. Characters
from the films are copyright Universal Studios and U-Drive Productions. All
other characters are my own creation and may not be used without
permission.
Stoko: You're sort of right. All will be revealed at some point soon.
Anakin McFly: Thanks for your review!
Jamie McFly: Thanks for your review. All I can say is keep reading to find out.
Blind Spot: It's the Eastwood Ravine 2045, I'll explain later, and yes but it's not the main reason.
~*~*~*~*~
Saturday October 29th 2045, Hill Valley, California
There was an excited look in Jules' eyes, like a five-year-old on Christmas morning. I guess he must have been pretty thrilled to be working on a project that his father had spent most of his life dealing with. He beckoned to me with a long bony finger and walked slowly towards the far corner of the garage. I followed him tentatively, wary of what I was about to encounter. All around me clocks kept a steady rhythm, marking time's eternal passage. I stopped to admire one with a little guy hanging from the minute hand.
The thing that Jules was gazing at with wonder was covered by a ragged and faded brown sheet. I could hear a faint whining noise coming from beneath it. Verne whistled and clicked his tongue. "Franklin!" he called. "Come on out, boy! Come say hello to Megan!" There was a snuffling and scrabbling, and then a round wet black nose poked out between the folds of the blanket. Slowly the scruffy brown mongrel emerged, inching forward in a sort of bow. He was wagging his feathery tail enthusiastically when he saw me. "I guess he likes you already," said Verne with a half-smile. I nodded and bent down to stroke the dog.
"Megan," said Jules in hushed, almost reverent tones, "I give you my father's DeLorean." He whipped back the sheet like a magician revealing that his assistant has disappeared from the box. My eyes travelled over the car, not believing what I was seeing. The thing was totally and utterly destroyed - no more than just fragments. It was going to need some serious fixing. I decided I'd better listen closely to what Jules and Verne told me to do, unless of course I wanted Grandpa Marty's fate to befall me. Poetic justice, as Jessica would say. Still, I had to admit, it was a pretty cool way to travel through time . . . if we could get it working again.
Ever since I was about three, I've been obsessed with figuring out how stuff works. I used to waste hours taking old things apart and trying to put them back together. As I got older, I'd add in different components to see if I could get the stuff to do extra things. I think I spent most of my junior high school career trashing every toaster I could get my hands on in the hope that I could finally figure out how to put a twenty second time delay between the slices popping. But it was when I was around five that I started getting into messing about with cars.
For the most part, my grandpa had taught me what to do. He'd help me work on each little bit at a time, giving me instructions and guiding me through the stages of unscrambling the electrics. But then that day came - that awful day. Ever since then I wake up every morning and wish I could turn back the clock . . .
~*~*~*~*~
Saturday October 27th 2035, Hill Valley, California
"Well done, Meg!" Marty gave his granddaughter the thumbs-up as the car juddered into life. Slowly the seven-year-old girl crawled out from beneath the vehicle and grinned back at him, wiping her grimy hands on her worn overalls. Her red T-shirt was smeared with blobs of oil and grease. She dragged the back of her hand across her face and stared silently at the streaky black dirt that covered it. For a moment he almost thought he could see her glowing inwardly with pride. He opened the black station wagon's driver door and reached out to ruffle her short brown hair. She gazed up at him with huge puppy-dog eyes. God, people were right when they said she was his spitting image. "We'll make a little mechanic out of you yet!" he said with a chuckle. She threw her arms around his waist and hung out like she would never let go, her head buried in his stomach.
Marty remembered the first day he'd introduced Megan to working on cars. It had been just after her fifth birthday and she'd dropped one of her new toys down the stairs. Of course it had broken and, after a telling-off from Marlene and several attempts by MJ, it had stayed stuck that way. A couple of hours later, he'd found her sitting in her bedroom taking it apart piece by piece. She was concentrating so hard, determined to fix it. He'd watched her for a few minutes, and then shown her how to figure out cars. They'd slowly progressed through the more major stuff, working together on each section. It had been fun spending time with her, listening to her eager chatter. He'd told her about what had happened with the DeLorean and Doc fifty years ago (was it really that long?), but she just thought he'd made it up. It was probably for the best . . . let her keep her innocence, she wouldn't let herself get it back soon.
"Ready for another project?" he asked. Meg nodded eagerly, her eyes shining. He crossed the garage and whipped a sheet off the family car. Megan looked at him with wide scared eyes, her breath catching in her throat. She was a little afraid of tampering with something so important, just in case there was a horrible setback. Marty crouched down and Meg copied him, tilting her head to one side as she listened intently.
"The carburettor's blown," he explained. "I think you're ready to have a go at doing something like this on your own now. Don't worry, all the parts are on the bench and I'll be here to help you if you need it - not that you will." He gave her a cheeky grin that made him look suddenly younger. Just as he stood up, the door swung back and hit the wall with a thud.
"Hey, Dad, I made you some . . ." Marlene stood in the doorway with a chipped white mug in one hand and the cordless videophone in the other. Her eyes rested on Meg for a moment and she tutted. "Will you look at that girl! She's completely and utterly filthy. Megan, go change your clothes this minute!" Marty glanced at Meg and she rolled her eyes, her mouth flapping in imitation. He stifled the urge to laugh. The kid was quite the little comedienne when she wanted to be. Would that laughter leave her after what was going to happen?
"Ah, leave her alone, Marlene." Marty waved a hand idly at his daughter. "She's just a kid, it's her prerogative to cover her clothes in dirt. Besides, you nag her too much. Let her have a little fun. She's only young once." Secretly he was a little glad that Marlene wasn't actually Megan's mother; he had the feeling she would have been unbearable. As it was, he had to admit she'd made sacrifices for the girl. Marlene's acting career had just been about to take off when Lucy died and she was under pressure to come back to Hill Valley. Sometimes he caught his daughter looking at the little seven-year-old with an expression of disgust. Sadness jolted through him as he wondered if Marlene would hate Meg even more after what was going to happen.
"Anyway," Marlene said, "there's a phone call for you." Marty turned to Megan and made an O out of his thumb and index finger. She crossed her eyes and stuck her tongue out, focussed on copying him perfectly. He'd missed out on this stuff when MJ and Marlene were little, what with his career as a musician and having to travel so much. It had been that which had led to his marriage almost breaking up . . . almost. Every day he was grateful that he'd had the sense to quit while he was ahead - grateful that he was still with Jennifer and had a second chance at being a decent parent. Marty stood up and walked towards Marlene to take the call. The garage door swung shut with a bang behind him, leaving Meg alone.
The little girl's heart was racing. She'd never done anything like this on her own before. Thoughts of what would happen if she messed up flashed into her head - horrible shouts and sobbing, the squeal of breaks, the sounds of metal colliding, tearing, crumpling like paper . . . "Stop it," she said in a loud clear voice, as if trying to curb her imagination. She giggled nervously and took a few deep breaths. Her grandpa had worked on cars hundreds of times, and she'd helped him out with a few. How hard could fixing one carburettor be? She reached out for the tools on the bench and thought about what to do. It came back to her instantly and she set about the work with gusto, soon completely lost, until she reached a certain point. She couldn't remember what she had to adjust to fit the new part. Just as the garage door creaked open she made a snap decision and slotted the part into place.
"Hey!" Marty laughed as Meg jumped up and backed away from the car. "Don't worry, you'll have done great. Let's see . . ." He crouched down and peered at the car's workings. "Yeah, she's ready to go. I told you that you'd be OK on your own!" He watched her face light up in that goofy little smile she had. For a brief moment he glanced at the battered digital watch he'd had since he was a kid. 11 AM . . . The time rang a bell. Of course - it was Meg's first karate class at 11 AM today! Without warning he grabbed her wrist and dragged her over to the car. He had completely forgotten about what was going to happen to them both. "Come on!" he said, not meaning to sound so over-urgent. "We're going to be late!" As he turned the ignition and drove out of the garage, neither of them noticed the tiny drops of brake fluid that were falling from beneath the vehicle.
~*~*~*~*~
Saturday October 29th 2045, Hill Valley, California
". . . and we've been working on this destination locator so we don't have to stay in Hill Valley when we travel through time. You just key in the latitude and longitude of where you want to go and . . ." Jules had become so wrapped up in talking about the time machine that he hadn't noticed my silence. I was gazing into space with a dreamy look, not focussed on what he was saying. He reached out and gently shook my shoulder. "Meg? Are you OK?" I blinked suddenly and my body snapped back into a state of concentration. Seemingly satisfied with my nod of acknowledgement, Jules carried on his explanation. I tried to pay attention but part of me knew it wasn't working. Somehow the events of ten years ago kept coming back to haunt me.
Over the next few weeks or so I got to know Jules and Verne pretty well. They told me about their early lives in the Old West, back in the 1880s, and about how a guy called Clint Eastwood defeated one of the Tannens in a gun fight to save their father, Emmett Brown. It sounded strangely familiar . . . and totally cool. I'd always loved history classes and that time period had always been a big fantasy of mine when I was little. Just listening to the brothers talk brought back thoughts of Jake and I dressing up in oversized ponchos and Stetsons that covered our eyes and having fake shoot-outs. I suddenly realised how much I missed being a kid. Maybe with the time machine I could rediscover my lost youth.
It was the Saturday after Thanksgiving when we finished the DeLorean. I'd been heading over to Kennedy Drive every day after school and staying well past dinner to have it ready. It seemed to fill the hole in my life that I hadn't healed since my grandpa died. I wondered why his death had hit me so hard. Maybe it was my guilt because I didn't fix the car up right; maybe it was because he was more of a dad to me than my real father ever was. After Mom died, my father threw himself into his dead-end job. I think he spent all hours at the office because that way he didn't have to come back to a house full of bad memories. He hardly ever went out on the weekends and he never had another romantic relationship that I knew about. It must have affected him pretty badly to lose someone who was obviously the love of his life.
I was so mixed up in my own thoughts that I barely noticed Verne making the finishing touches to the time machine. It hissed loudly as he slammed the car door shut, making me jump. I really had to stop letting myself get so easily distracted. Franklin barked loudly as the two brothers high-fived; even though they were well into their sixties, sometimes they still acted like little kids. Was I going to be that way when I was older? I let the thought go, knowing it didn't do much good to dwell on the future - or the past.
"OK, Meg," said Jules with a grin, "take her for a test spin!" I opened the door of the DeLorean and climbed in, switching the time circuits on. The display lit up almost instantly and I took in the Last Time Departed: September 7th 1885. So all the stories I'd heard from my grandpa about the old days in Hill Valley were true! A jolt of nervous energy shot through my veins, sending a delicious tingling down my spine. I swallowed in an attempt to quench my dry throat. Verne slammed the door shut, leaving me trapped inside the DeLorean. Now I knew how canned vegetables must feel: it was really claustrophobic.
From the corner of my eye I watched Jules and Verne opening the garage doors, my heart slamming against my ribs like a wild animal in a too-small cage. I tried to remember what Jake had told me about starting cars, but it was no use. "Aw, what the hell," I said under my breath and slammed my foot down on the accelerator. It was all I could do to stop myself screaming out loud as the car leapt forward. The brothers' shouts of encouragement were totally lost to me. I kept my face locked in a grimace, my eyes screwed up so I wouldn't have to see myself go through the time barrier.
The DeLorean tore down JFK Drive, which was mercifully deserted. I guessed a lot of people must have been spending the weekend with their families. As the car climbed into the sky, I glanced at the speedometer. In a flash the landscape changed to a busy road and three sonic booms rattled the car violently, causing me to almost jump out of my skin. I was breathing heavily, trying and failing not to panic. Where was I?
Stoko: You're sort of right. All will be revealed at some point soon.
Anakin McFly: Thanks for your review!
Jamie McFly: Thanks for your review. All I can say is keep reading to find out.
Blind Spot: It's the Eastwood Ravine 2045, I'll explain later, and yes but it's not the main reason.
~*~*~*~*~
Saturday October 29th 2045, Hill Valley, California
There was an excited look in Jules' eyes, like a five-year-old on Christmas morning. I guess he must have been pretty thrilled to be working on a project that his father had spent most of his life dealing with. He beckoned to me with a long bony finger and walked slowly towards the far corner of the garage. I followed him tentatively, wary of what I was about to encounter. All around me clocks kept a steady rhythm, marking time's eternal passage. I stopped to admire one with a little guy hanging from the minute hand.
The thing that Jules was gazing at with wonder was covered by a ragged and faded brown sheet. I could hear a faint whining noise coming from beneath it. Verne whistled and clicked his tongue. "Franklin!" he called. "Come on out, boy! Come say hello to Megan!" There was a snuffling and scrabbling, and then a round wet black nose poked out between the folds of the blanket. Slowly the scruffy brown mongrel emerged, inching forward in a sort of bow. He was wagging his feathery tail enthusiastically when he saw me. "I guess he likes you already," said Verne with a half-smile. I nodded and bent down to stroke the dog.
"Megan," said Jules in hushed, almost reverent tones, "I give you my father's DeLorean." He whipped back the sheet like a magician revealing that his assistant has disappeared from the box. My eyes travelled over the car, not believing what I was seeing. The thing was totally and utterly destroyed - no more than just fragments. It was going to need some serious fixing. I decided I'd better listen closely to what Jules and Verne told me to do, unless of course I wanted Grandpa Marty's fate to befall me. Poetic justice, as Jessica would say. Still, I had to admit, it was a pretty cool way to travel through time . . . if we could get it working again.
Ever since I was about three, I've been obsessed with figuring out how stuff works. I used to waste hours taking old things apart and trying to put them back together. As I got older, I'd add in different components to see if I could get the stuff to do extra things. I think I spent most of my junior high school career trashing every toaster I could get my hands on in the hope that I could finally figure out how to put a twenty second time delay between the slices popping. But it was when I was around five that I started getting into messing about with cars.
For the most part, my grandpa had taught me what to do. He'd help me work on each little bit at a time, giving me instructions and guiding me through the stages of unscrambling the electrics. But then that day came - that awful day. Ever since then I wake up every morning and wish I could turn back the clock . . .
~*~*~*~*~
Saturday October 27th 2035, Hill Valley, California
"Well done, Meg!" Marty gave his granddaughter the thumbs-up as the car juddered into life. Slowly the seven-year-old girl crawled out from beneath the vehicle and grinned back at him, wiping her grimy hands on her worn overalls. Her red T-shirt was smeared with blobs of oil and grease. She dragged the back of her hand across her face and stared silently at the streaky black dirt that covered it. For a moment he almost thought he could see her glowing inwardly with pride. He opened the black station wagon's driver door and reached out to ruffle her short brown hair. She gazed up at him with huge puppy-dog eyes. God, people were right when they said she was his spitting image. "We'll make a little mechanic out of you yet!" he said with a chuckle. She threw her arms around his waist and hung out like she would never let go, her head buried in his stomach.
Marty remembered the first day he'd introduced Megan to working on cars. It had been just after her fifth birthday and she'd dropped one of her new toys down the stairs. Of course it had broken and, after a telling-off from Marlene and several attempts by MJ, it had stayed stuck that way. A couple of hours later, he'd found her sitting in her bedroom taking it apart piece by piece. She was concentrating so hard, determined to fix it. He'd watched her for a few minutes, and then shown her how to figure out cars. They'd slowly progressed through the more major stuff, working together on each section. It had been fun spending time with her, listening to her eager chatter. He'd told her about what had happened with the DeLorean and Doc fifty years ago (was it really that long?), but she just thought he'd made it up. It was probably for the best . . . let her keep her innocence, she wouldn't let herself get it back soon.
"Ready for another project?" he asked. Meg nodded eagerly, her eyes shining. He crossed the garage and whipped a sheet off the family car. Megan looked at him with wide scared eyes, her breath catching in her throat. She was a little afraid of tampering with something so important, just in case there was a horrible setback. Marty crouched down and Meg copied him, tilting her head to one side as she listened intently.
"The carburettor's blown," he explained. "I think you're ready to have a go at doing something like this on your own now. Don't worry, all the parts are on the bench and I'll be here to help you if you need it - not that you will." He gave her a cheeky grin that made him look suddenly younger. Just as he stood up, the door swung back and hit the wall with a thud.
"Hey, Dad, I made you some . . ." Marlene stood in the doorway with a chipped white mug in one hand and the cordless videophone in the other. Her eyes rested on Meg for a moment and she tutted. "Will you look at that girl! She's completely and utterly filthy. Megan, go change your clothes this minute!" Marty glanced at Meg and she rolled her eyes, her mouth flapping in imitation. He stifled the urge to laugh. The kid was quite the little comedienne when she wanted to be. Would that laughter leave her after what was going to happen?
"Ah, leave her alone, Marlene." Marty waved a hand idly at his daughter. "She's just a kid, it's her prerogative to cover her clothes in dirt. Besides, you nag her too much. Let her have a little fun. She's only young once." Secretly he was a little glad that Marlene wasn't actually Megan's mother; he had the feeling she would have been unbearable. As it was, he had to admit she'd made sacrifices for the girl. Marlene's acting career had just been about to take off when Lucy died and she was under pressure to come back to Hill Valley. Sometimes he caught his daughter looking at the little seven-year-old with an expression of disgust. Sadness jolted through him as he wondered if Marlene would hate Meg even more after what was going to happen.
"Anyway," Marlene said, "there's a phone call for you." Marty turned to Megan and made an O out of his thumb and index finger. She crossed her eyes and stuck her tongue out, focussed on copying him perfectly. He'd missed out on this stuff when MJ and Marlene were little, what with his career as a musician and having to travel so much. It had been that which had led to his marriage almost breaking up . . . almost. Every day he was grateful that he'd had the sense to quit while he was ahead - grateful that he was still with Jennifer and had a second chance at being a decent parent. Marty stood up and walked towards Marlene to take the call. The garage door swung shut with a bang behind him, leaving Meg alone.
The little girl's heart was racing. She'd never done anything like this on her own before. Thoughts of what would happen if she messed up flashed into her head - horrible shouts and sobbing, the squeal of breaks, the sounds of metal colliding, tearing, crumpling like paper . . . "Stop it," she said in a loud clear voice, as if trying to curb her imagination. She giggled nervously and took a few deep breaths. Her grandpa had worked on cars hundreds of times, and she'd helped him out with a few. How hard could fixing one carburettor be? She reached out for the tools on the bench and thought about what to do. It came back to her instantly and she set about the work with gusto, soon completely lost, until she reached a certain point. She couldn't remember what she had to adjust to fit the new part. Just as the garage door creaked open she made a snap decision and slotted the part into place.
"Hey!" Marty laughed as Meg jumped up and backed away from the car. "Don't worry, you'll have done great. Let's see . . ." He crouched down and peered at the car's workings. "Yeah, she's ready to go. I told you that you'd be OK on your own!" He watched her face light up in that goofy little smile she had. For a brief moment he glanced at the battered digital watch he'd had since he was a kid. 11 AM . . . The time rang a bell. Of course - it was Meg's first karate class at 11 AM today! Without warning he grabbed her wrist and dragged her over to the car. He had completely forgotten about what was going to happen to them both. "Come on!" he said, not meaning to sound so over-urgent. "We're going to be late!" As he turned the ignition and drove out of the garage, neither of them noticed the tiny drops of brake fluid that were falling from beneath the vehicle.
~*~*~*~*~
Saturday October 29th 2045, Hill Valley, California
". . . and we've been working on this destination locator so we don't have to stay in Hill Valley when we travel through time. You just key in the latitude and longitude of where you want to go and . . ." Jules had become so wrapped up in talking about the time machine that he hadn't noticed my silence. I was gazing into space with a dreamy look, not focussed on what he was saying. He reached out and gently shook my shoulder. "Meg? Are you OK?" I blinked suddenly and my body snapped back into a state of concentration. Seemingly satisfied with my nod of acknowledgement, Jules carried on his explanation. I tried to pay attention but part of me knew it wasn't working. Somehow the events of ten years ago kept coming back to haunt me.
Over the next few weeks or so I got to know Jules and Verne pretty well. They told me about their early lives in the Old West, back in the 1880s, and about how a guy called Clint Eastwood defeated one of the Tannens in a gun fight to save their father, Emmett Brown. It sounded strangely familiar . . . and totally cool. I'd always loved history classes and that time period had always been a big fantasy of mine when I was little. Just listening to the brothers talk brought back thoughts of Jake and I dressing up in oversized ponchos and Stetsons that covered our eyes and having fake shoot-outs. I suddenly realised how much I missed being a kid. Maybe with the time machine I could rediscover my lost youth.
It was the Saturday after Thanksgiving when we finished the DeLorean. I'd been heading over to Kennedy Drive every day after school and staying well past dinner to have it ready. It seemed to fill the hole in my life that I hadn't healed since my grandpa died. I wondered why his death had hit me so hard. Maybe it was my guilt because I didn't fix the car up right; maybe it was because he was more of a dad to me than my real father ever was. After Mom died, my father threw himself into his dead-end job. I think he spent all hours at the office because that way he didn't have to come back to a house full of bad memories. He hardly ever went out on the weekends and he never had another romantic relationship that I knew about. It must have affected him pretty badly to lose someone who was obviously the love of his life.
I was so mixed up in my own thoughts that I barely noticed Verne making the finishing touches to the time machine. It hissed loudly as he slammed the car door shut, making me jump. I really had to stop letting myself get so easily distracted. Franklin barked loudly as the two brothers high-fived; even though they were well into their sixties, sometimes they still acted like little kids. Was I going to be that way when I was older? I let the thought go, knowing it didn't do much good to dwell on the future - or the past.
"OK, Meg," said Jules with a grin, "take her for a test spin!" I opened the door of the DeLorean and climbed in, switching the time circuits on. The display lit up almost instantly and I took in the Last Time Departed: September 7th 1885. So all the stories I'd heard from my grandpa about the old days in Hill Valley were true! A jolt of nervous energy shot through my veins, sending a delicious tingling down my spine. I swallowed in an attempt to quench my dry throat. Verne slammed the door shut, leaving me trapped inside the DeLorean. Now I knew how canned vegetables must feel: it was really claustrophobic.
From the corner of my eye I watched Jules and Verne opening the garage doors, my heart slamming against my ribs like a wild animal in a too-small cage. I tried to remember what Jake had told me about starting cars, but it was no use. "Aw, what the hell," I said under my breath and slammed my foot down on the accelerator. It was all I could do to stop myself screaming out loud as the car leapt forward. The brothers' shouts of encouragement were totally lost to me. I kept my face locked in a grimace, my eyes screwed up so I wouldn't have to see myself go through the time barrier.
The DeLorean tore down JFK Drive, which was mercifully deserted. I guessed a lot of people must have been spending the weekend with their families. As the car climbed into the sky, I glanced at the speedometer. In a flash the landscape changed to a busy road and three sonic booms rattled the car violently, causing me to almost jump out of my skin. I was breathing heavily, trying and failing not to panic. Where was I?