Author's Note: Aww, no one got last chapter's non-BttF MJF reference? Well, Marty didn't notice it either, but it was when the car backed over the fence and ran over the lawn gnome. The person who drove the car is Frank Bannister, Michael J. Fox's character in the The Frighteners.
- - - - - - - -
Chapter Three – Missing
Tuesday, April 2nd, 1985
Unknown location, California
12:16 PM
"Wake up, little dog-boy."
The back of his head ached as he was rudely dragged to consciousness by a rough hand slapping his face. Marty tried to open his eyes, but a blindfold was tightly tied across his face. His arms and shoulders were prickling uncomfortably, and he realized that they were handcuffed behind his back, chaining him against some sort of pole.
"What…?" he gasped out in confusion.
"Ah, the dog-boy awakens," the voice said, sounding rather sadistically pleased. It had a strange accent to it that Marty couldn't quite place, but all thoughts of the accent fled his mind as something lashed out and kicked him in the stomach. He cried out involuntarily at the suddenness of the pain, and drew his legs up closer to his chest in a pathetic effort to protect himself. "American scum. They're so weak," the voice snarled.
"Have you retrieved the dear Doktour's telephone number?" another voice said. Marty heard the first man turn away, giving him a chance to think. What's going on? he thought in alarm, pulling subtly at his restraints. The last thing I remember was taking Einstein to the park… He desperately tried to remember what happened next, but it was like banging his head on a brick wall – he was getting nowhere fast.
"Let's let them worry a bit longer," First Man answered in dark amusement. "He may not have noticed his little friend missing yet." Marty could hear First Man getting closer, and flinched away as the man nudged him with his boot. "Besides," First Man continued in a slightly lecherous tone, "we do not know what this dog-boy means to the Doktour, yes?"
Marty gasped in abrupt understanding. I've been kidnapped! But why would anyone kidnap me? Man, this is heavy. Then he realized what First Man was insinuating. "Hey!" he protested indignantly. "I'm–" He was interrupted by First Man kicking him again, this time in the face. He felt something in his jaw crack painfully, and warm coppery blood welled up in his mouth.
"Silence, little dog-boy," First Man snarled as Marty whimpered in pain. "It will be much better for you if you cooperate!"
"You're such an asshole," Marty choked out, ignoring the suggestion.
First Man snarled and shoved something cold and metal into Marty's neck. "I am an asshole…with an Uzi!" he growled.
Marty froze in fear and didn't answer. First Man stayed for a moment longer, then pulled away and walked away to converse with Second Man in an unfamiliar language. Marty pulled at the handcuffs again, but the latches were secure over his wrists tight enough that he had no chance of slipping his hands out of them. Damn…this is not good… He shook his head slightly. Stop worrying, McFly. Doc will find you. He has to.
-----
Tuesday, April 2nd, 1985
Hill Valley, California
3:19 PM
The McFlys had split up to search for Marty, enlisting a few neighbors to help find clues of their missing son's location. Lorraine and George had taken to searching uptown Hill Valley, while Doc and Einstein went through downtown as thoroughly as they could. Marty's brother, Dave, made a methodical sweep of Marty's usual hangout spots while his sister, Linda, remained at home in case Marty called on the telephone.
Doc and Einstein wearily trudged home after conducting an extremely thorough search that had turned up absolutely no clues to where Marty had gone. Doc unlocked the garage door and went to go sit down on the couch to think, but was interrupted by the sound of the phone ringing. Hoping it was Marty, he lunged for the receiver. "Hello?" he asked hopefully.
There was silence on the other end for a moment, and then an unfamiliar male voice spoke, its accent distinctly Arabic. "Missing something, Doktour Brown?"
Doc froze in horrified realization. "Who is this? Where's Marty?!"
"Your little friend is safe for now," the voice chuckled darkly. "We have taken him to ensure your…cooperation…in a certain business opportunity of ours."
Doc was simultaneously elated and appalled when he distantly heard Marty's voice in the background. "You son of a bi–" His friend's protest mutated into a pained cry.
"Don't hurt him!" Doc blurted, terrified at the thought of what they might be doing to Marty. "Please, just…don't hurt him!"
"Your friend will be less injured if you cooperate with us," the unfamiliar voice said almost pleasantly, but there was an undercurrent of sadistic joy to it. The sound of a sixteen-year old boy crying in agony continued, muted, in the background. The voice seemed to ignore it completely. "Any resistance from either you or your friend will result in…unpleasantries."
Doc swallowed hard. This is very, very bad… "What do you want from me?" he demanded quietly.
"We are told you have experience in the construction of explosive devices," the voice replied, almost triumphantly. "My organization has come into possession of a reasonable quantity of the element known as plutonium, and we wish for you to create a bomb for us."
My God…they want to trade Marty's life for a nuclear warhead! Doc gasped at the very thought of it. Great Scott…
The voice at the other end of the line continued after a long moment of silence. "We do not, of course, expect you to make this decision at once," it continued in a mock-conversational tone. "You have until nine o'clock Friday night to make your decision, and we will call you once more. Do not tell your police of our potential deal, or we shall know and your friend will find himself receiving a very painful death somewhat prematurely. Are we understood, Doktour Brown?"
Doc's hands were shaking. "You…are understood."
The voice laughed. "See you on Friday, Doktour."
Click.
- - - - - - - -
A/N: You know the drill…there's a non-BttF MJF reference somewhere in this chapter.