"Honey, how about we drive on up to the lake tonight? The stars would be quite a sight up there," came her voice.

"Umm . . . I'm not feeling that well. I thought we could just stay home and watch T.veeeerradio," Marty noticed the absence of a screen on the radio again.

"Ok baby, but no more of those 'Suspense' shows, they give me the willies."

"Ok, no problem," Marty smiled from the small victory.

The two had listened to a radio comedy called 'My Favorite Husband'. The woman had a voice just like Lucille Ball, Marty thought.

Just as it finished and Mrs. Wilson made some scary remarks about wanting them to go to bed, the telephone rang. It became obvious that Goldie was the one who normally answered the phone when Mrs. Wilson sighed, "I'll get it then."

Marty turned off the radio and then couldn't help but over hear the phone conversation.

"Well that's strange," she said, "he had a gun?"

Marty swung around, wondering who had a gun; he sensed danger in Goldie's young wives' voice.

"Ok, I'll tell Goldie, ok, bye dear." She hung up the phone and sat back down next to Marty.

"Wrong number?" Marty's joke seemed to come out of nowhere.

"It was Berle Stapleton. You know how she lives out near the lake?"

"Yeaaah! Of course?" Marty lied.

"She said she saw that crazy Doc Brown walking up the road towards the lake. Goldie, he was carrying a riffle!"

Marty froze, was Doc the killer? Or was he trying to catch the killer?
What if by showing him the article in the paper, Marty inadvertently gave Doc the idea to try and shoot the killer? If Doc was to encounter the killer up at the lake, Doc might come off second best and alter history in a huge way.

There was only one thing Marty could think of doing.

He waited for Mrs. Wilson to fall asleep, and then he was up, out the front door and into the dark night. He didn't take the car incase the engine woke her up. So he took the hike out to the lake.

Marty found himself standing in the exact same spot his truck would be parked in 29 years. This then caused him to glance into the woods where Goldie's bones would be found. A shiver rippled down his skin.

He wanted so much to walk the opposite way to the misty, cold direction of the woods, but he knew he had to find the Doc.

Marty slowly walked towards the dense trees. He soon came across foot prints; he bent down for a closer look to find they were walking out of the woods. He heard the click of a riffle behind him and a, hopefully, familiar voice,

"Hold it right there! Stand up slowly and turn around."

Marty did as instructed and added raising his hands in the air as a precaution. The Doc's torch light glared in his face.

"Doc!" Marty said, slightly annoyed, slightly glad that he had found him.

"Goldie. What are you doing out here?"

"What are you doing out here with a riffle? Anyone would think you are the killer!" Marty lowered his arms, not wanting to allow Doc to keep the upper hand.

"I asked you first," the Doc stood his ground, not taking any chances.
Suddenly Marty saw a shadow moving behind the Doc. At first he thought it was the Doc's shadow, but then saw that that was in front of him. This shadow was darker and moving very quickly. Towards them.

"Doc, look behind you," Marty warned.

The Doc gave a suspicious stare and then rotated his head and shone the flash light behind him.

There was nothing.

Doc turned back with a grin, "Nice try."

The shadow then reappeared, jumped up into the air and when it was exposed to the moonlight, Marty saw it was a man.

The man jumped onto Doc, pulling him onto the ground. The two lost their footing and stumbled over to the edge of the pathway and rolled down a hill and splashed into the misty lake.

Marty hurried over to the edge, and spotted one of them climbing out of the water. He prayed it was the Doc. His prayers came tumbling down from heaven when the moonlight captured the man's distinctive face. Marty wanted to run, but he had come 29 years into the past because of this man.

"Who are you?!" he shouted.
The man continued climbing up the bushy hill, "You're a friend of Emmett's aren't you?"

"You have no idea who I am," Marty was glad, he held the upper hand with his perfect disguise.

"I'll find out," the man neared the hill's summit.

"Who are you?!" Marty shouted again.

The man reached the top and stood, "since you are going to die, I see no reason not to introduce myself. Brown's the name. Verne Brown."