Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters or names. I've only borrowed them for the time being, but I promise to return them, however hard that may be ;-)

Chapter 9

August 4th 1989
8:12 a.m.
Brown family home, Hill Valley, California

Verne shifted in his bed into a more comfortable position. He felt more relaxed now he knew he was safe at home, away from the nightmares at the cemetery.

Saturday, he thought, the best day of the week. I can have a lie in, play some on my computer, watch some TV…

"Verne," a voice called above him, interrupting his pleasant thoughts. He slowly opened his eyes to peer at the source of the voice…only to find his mother standing above him shaking him awake.

"Aw, mom. It's Saturday! Can't I lie in?" Verne mumbled, turning his head back towards his pillow.

"Normally I would let you, but today is a very special day, or have you forgotten?"

What special d…dad's birthday! Oh no, I forgot!

"No, I haven't forgotten. It's dad's birthday, isn't it?" Verne groggily sat up while trying to rub the sleep from his eyes. Clara nodded to him.

"Come on, go and get dressed then we'll go and wake your father up and give him his presents."

Clara turned to head for the door, no less heading to Jules' bedroom to wake him up. Verne moaned softly to himself, then decided not to push the subject away any more. Resigning himself from the warm comfortable bed Verne gathered his clothes together and headed over to the bathroom next to his room. He could hear Clara's futile attempts to wake up Jules, but he knew that the second her back was turned he'd be right back to sleep.

August 4th 1989
8:12 a.m.
Outside the clock tower, Hill Valley town centre

Twelve minutes past eight.

The digital clock flickered on and off from across the street. Marty squinted to read the digital display from the bench he occupied. The only indication of time he had. Had he really been there so long?

For now he sat alone, his arms wrapped around his knees in insecurity. He had done little since discovering the gravestone with his name on, apart from make a hasty retreat out of the cemetery. He had run straight from the cemetery without looking back, until he had come across the first signs of life near to a parking lot he had crossed called Lone Pine Mall. There he must have seen some of the 'lowlifes' of the town – junkies, drunks, prostitutes; you name it, gathered by the empty parking lot doing business. They had given him funny looks as he'd run on by them. Maybe they knew him, maybe they didn't. Whoever they were, they weren't concerned as to who he was.

Eventually exhaustion had caught up with Marty from the fear and longing to find someone who knew him. He had spotted a nearby bench where he could kip for the remainder of the night, but once settled his mind wouldn't allow him the chance to sleep.

He was too alert with questions that needed answers from someone. Sure, the town looked familiar (especially the clock tower he was sat in front of), but he couldn't remember any of the smaller details, like the name of the town for starters, or even the date.

The date – that was funny. He was going to ask one of the people he passed near to the parking lot what the date was, but then reconsidered. They didn't care what date it was, and probably didn't have a clue due to the effects of the drugs or alcohol they'd consumed.

So here he was now; lost, alone, and suffering from a major headache. He didn't recognise anybody who passed him as they stared down at the clothes he wore. He was still covered in dirt from digging his way out of his prison in the earth, and his shirt especially looked the worst for wear as it lay in tatters. He looked worn out too; bags had begun to develop under his eyes from the despair he felt inside, and the cuts on his hands had only just stopped bleeding. What was he even to do?

The answer came to him almost two hours later. A young woman in a brown station wagon rode up to the street light near to where Marty was sat. He studied her carefully, her features seeming very familiar to him. Her wavy blond hair crept past her shoulders in length, partly placed behind her ears out of her face. She was very attractive, and the loose shirt and jacket did no justice to her figure. Marty was sure he recognised her, and searched frantically through his memory traces to find the one that led to her name…

The lights turned to green, and the station wagon began to pull away. "Hey, wait!" he called, realising this could be his lead towards finding the answers he so desperately sought. Grabbing the jacket sat beside him, he leapt to his feet and began to race after the station wagon.

He jogged behind for as long as he could keep the vehicle within sight, but then lost it as he approached one of the many streets on the outskirts of town.

"Damn it!" he cursed as he searched hard for any signs of where the vehicle had gone. He threw his jacket to the ground in frustration. He took in several deep breaths to calm his taught nerves, taking in the scenery around him. The houses here looked old for the town, and way bigger than some of the others he had passed whilst chasing the car a few minutes ago.

The street felt vaguely familiar, but not as much as he'd expected. Feeling even more lost than ever, Marty decided to trek straight along the road past the houses to see if anything at all would trigger even the smallest memory in his brain as to where he was at all.

August 4th 1989
12:31 p.m.
Somewhere on the outskirts of town, Hill Valley

The sun had risen higher in the sky, making the temperature unbearably hot. Marty brushed away the tiny beads of sweat on his forehead with the back of his hand, as he gazed hard along the street before him. He had been wandering the streets for the past couple of hours or so (unbeknown to him) and had found nothing that resembled a house he recognised at all.

Eventually the exhaustion and the heat of the day were finally catching up to him, and he began to feel the aches in his muscles increase. The shock of it all had taken most of his energy, not to mention the heat and the hunger from not having anything to eat for over twelve hours.

Marty had slowed his walk almost to a crawl, and had resorted to carrying his jacket over his shoulder. He decided the more sensible option was to get some well-earned rest before continuing on his 'quest', and so was now searching for somewhere to stay for a few hours.

He soon came across an old-looking house on its own near the main street. It was dishevelled and in bad need of repair. No one had occupied the house in years by the looks of the exterior, and so Marty gambled his chances that no one was indeed living there now.

Cautiously he made his way to the front door through the overgrown trees and grass covering the garden path. The paint on the woodwork was peeling away, and the windows were covered with dust. The house looked dark and lifeless as Marty peered through the letterbox, which was rusty and stiff.

"Hello?" he called through the opening. The only reply was a faint echo throughout the hall. Assuming it was safe to enter, Marty forced open the door as carefully as he could so as not to draw unwanted attention to himself.

The inside of the house was even darker, with thin slices of sunlight entering through tiny cracks, highlighting the dust that floated from where the door had opened. Marty coughed as he inhaled some of the dust, placing his hand to his mouth in doing so. "Man, I guess someone gave up on the housework in here!" he commented sarcastically.

Entering the first room to the left of him Marty found what he presumed to be the living room. Some of the furniture was still present, including the sofa, which had seen better days. The padding was spilling out from the fabric, while the cushions looked flea-bitten. Marty smiled at the sofa however, thinking how lucky he was to have something other than a hard wooden floor to sleep on.

Draping his jacket over the back, Marty jumped onto the comfortable cushions. The dust floated high into the air, causing Marty to lean forward in a fit of coughing. He didn't mind so much now though – he'd found somewhere to sleep out of the burning heat outside.

Twisting onto his side, he reached out for his jacket to place under his head for a pillow. Settling down at last, Marty allowed the fatigue that had been plaguing him to at last take over his body and mind. He closed his eyes, and fell back into unconsciousness.

Sorry for taking so long, but I'm slowly catching up with the many things I've to do. Thanks to everyone who has reviewed. Enjoy your Halloween!

"Head of the Class" – Sorry Flaming Trails, I've never seen that!