Chapter 4

12:01 pm
Nov 16 1985
Hill Valley, California

"I'll fly it first."

"No, I will."

"C'mon Jules. I wanna fly it."

"Maybe Dad should fly it, to make sure it's safe," Jules said diplomatically.

"Maybe Jindor should fly it. But he would get blown away by the wind, and then the kite would get struck by lightning, so he would get sent on another adventure through time."

"Who is this Jindor, Verne? I am not familiar with his name."

"Oh, he's just an alien. He has bad luck, usually. But he always pro-boils."

Jules looked lost. Then he corrected, "I think you mean prevails. But there aren't any aliens, at least not around here."

"There are now. I'm writing a new comic, called 'The Adventures of Jindor the Unlucky'. He has red skin, and antennum-things."

"Antennae."

"Yeah. When's Marty going to get here?"

"As he arrives."

"When?"

"Any time."

"Not quite any time," Verne suggested. "He hasn't arrived now, or now, or..."

"Don't worry, he'll get here. He just isn't always punctual."

"Does that mean a flat tire? Wagons never had flat tires."

"No, it means he's often late. What you are thinking of is a puncture."

"Oh. Thanks. Hey, here's Marty! Do you think I can get his autograph?"

"What? Marty isn't a celebrity."

"Yeah, but he has a great band, and he was the first person to travel back in time."

"That depends on your definition of first. Dad had travelled back in time before Marty ever did."

"Whatever. Let's go out and say hi."

Both boys dashed out the front door to greet Marty, taking care to tread only on the half of the stairway that had been repaired. Marty got out of his truck and waved hello, walking over. "Hi Jules, hi Verne. What have you two been up to today?"

"I helped Dad paint some of the rooms this morning," answered Jules in a moderate tone. "May I ask what you have accomplished?"

"Sure. I managed to stay in bed until ten, and worked on a song I'm writing. I also thought about today's trip, and what I need to remember about staying out of the way of history while I do what I need to do. What have you done, Verne?"

"I tried to help paint too, but painting with just one colour is boring, so I helped Mom tidy the garden a bit, and did some washing with her. I also worked on my new comic. It's about an unlucky alien named..."

"We'd better go in and prepare to leave," interrupted Jules before his brother could launch into his ridiculous comic. "Dad will be waiting. Oh, he says Marty can put his truck in the garage. He calculated that it would be best to avoid leaving it out in the cold for a few hours."

"Okay, I won't hold him up any longer. Back in a moment." Marty drove his van into the Browns' garage and returned to the waiting boys. "Do you have your kite ready?"

Verne was more that happy to answer. "Yup, it's all packed. That was the first thing I did today, actually. Mom has a picnic lunch all ready," he added, bouncing to a new topic.

"I've never eaten anything she cooked, so it will be a new experience for me," Marty said with a smile. "It's kinda funny how she's been your mom for so long, yet I'd never heard of her a month ago. Tell me more about this alien, Verne."

Jules stifled a groan and vanished down a hall to change his clothes. Verne started spieling about Jindor and his lavender coloured friend, Nilintar, who liked to eat pine needles in her food for some reason. Marty laughed at the boy's humourous attempts until the pair reached the barn. Here, Marty found the time train making various odd noises as the electronics warmed. (Emmet was yet to replace the main wiring with a computer system, as he had intended.)

"Ah, there you are," Emmet greeted him with a warm smile. "Do you know what the best time to arrive would be?"

"Hmm. That depends on where we plan to go. If you want to fly the kite in the nature reserve out of town, we can go at a normal lunch time, eat, fly the kite while I buy the tape, and leave, without anyone finding us. Does that sound okay to you?"

"Yes, that plan is satisfactory. Are you sure your purchase will not cause any difference to the history of Kataclyzm?"

"Yes, I am. They did not sell many copies, but they sold enough that a single extra would make no big difference."

"Good to see you thinking. All we need now is the food. And Clara and Jules, of course."

The aforementioned family members walked into the barn just then, carrying a large wicker basket between them. Emmet motioned them to place it in the back of the train, and closed the hatch. Then he climbed into the cab to slowly drive the cumbersome vehicle out of the barn in a low hover. Marty shut the barn and climbed into the cab along with the other Browns. After Emmet had made certain everyone was present, and had given all the dials another check, he gave the thrusters a boost, sending the train flying over the treetops. He quickly passed over the nature preserve and sped up towards the required eighty-eight miles per hour.

Prepare yourselves for impending temporal displacement," Emmet warned. The passengers braced their bodies and nerves. Light and sound washed over the whole train as it passed through the fourth dimension, disappearing from 1985 and appearing just as quickly in 1980.

12:42 pm
April 4 1980
Hill Valley, California

If anyone had seen the small group picnicking in the woods, they would not have been at all surprised. Even if they had looked closely at their clothes, there was no cause for alarm or suspicion. A sample of their conversation might have raised some eyebrows, revealing that the old man was the father of the two young boys, and the teenager was his best friend.

But a quick peek in the trees behind them would have totally freaked out anyone. For the people stuffing themselves with sandwiches were of course the Brown family, plus Marty McFly, and the time-travelling train hidden in the trees was enough to knock the socks of any unsuspecting person, had they not already been blown off by the fierce wind.

Marty couldn't have been any more correct in his memory of weather on that day. The wind positively howled, and the time-travellers were glad they had heeded his warning to wear warm clothes. Marty was enjoying the change in the weather, it going from late Fall to early Spring.

"Thanks for the food Clara," Marty said when he had eaten his fill. "You don't often find sandwiches this tasty in any time period."

"Why, thank-you Marty. That is very kind of you to say. Are you going on your expedition into town now?"

"Yeah, buying the tape. I may as well do it right away. It'll be a bit of a journey, walking all the way into town, but it's the best way."

"Alright Marty," said Emmet, who was reaching for the kite. "Be careful. I'll see you in the future."

"You mean the past, Doc. We're in the past."

"Right."

Marty started his trek into the middle of Hill Valley, 1980.

12:53 pm
April 4 1980
Hill Valley, California

"Dingaling!" The small bell jingled, announcing the arrival of Marty McFly, aged 17 years. The teen looked around the music store, noting the changes that had accumulated over the past five years. The store still looked about the same, the main difference being the carpet, which had been replaced, the lighting, which had received a major overhaul, and the musical content.

Times and tastes had changed, even over the short period of five years. Marty looked over the racks with a grin, remembering the songs he had enjoyed in those past years.

"Excuse me, may I help you?" asked the clerk.

Marty turned, recognising Henry Phillips, who had run the store for years. "Ahh no, not right now. I'm just taking a look around for the moment. I'll call if I need anything."

"Uh, uh, yeah. Do that." Henry walked back behind the counter, a little shocked. The teen had taken the words right out of his mouth.

Marty browsed around the racks for another minute before looking for the Dizarsta album. His search came up empty. "Hey, Mr. Phillips," he called.

"Yeah?" Henry drawled.

"I was looking for this new album by someone called 'Dizarsta'. Would you know where it is?"

"Oh, that. They're in a box here on the counter."

"Oh, I forgot. I'll take one." Marty pulled a bill out of his wallet He had already checked whether the bill would be legal tender in 1980.

"Righto. Say, would you be related to the McFlys?"

"The who?" Marty said in a tone of mock ignorance.

"You don't know them?"

"I don't live around here."

"Oh, you looked a little familiar to me. Never mind, I'm just a lonely clerk. Now, your change should be... err..."

"Dingaling!" The small bell jingled, announcing the arrival of Marty McFly, aged 12 years. "Hi Mr. Phillips."

"Hi Marty," the clerk answered.

The older Marty gulped. He knew his younger self had come into the store this day, but he hadn't really expected to see himself. "No problem. I can just leave and my younger self won't know any better. Hang on..." A sneaky thought came into his mind.

"Anything new, Mr. Phillips?" the younger Marty asked.

"There should be a couple of things on the new rack, and I've got this on the counter." he answered, pointing to the box he had shown the older Marty just a minute before.

Young Marty took a quick look at Dizarsta album and shrugged. "I'll take a look on that new rack."

The longhaired clerk tried to figure out the change. Marty followed his younger self around the corner. The younger Marty noticed that he was being followed.

"Hey, do I know you?"

"Um, not really," Marty told himself. "I think I know your mother though."

"Oh." The younger Marty didn't know what to say next. There was an awkward pause, and he finally asked, "How do you know her?"

"Never mind that now. I need to tell you something."

"Yes?"

"You know Needles, right?"

"Needles?"

"I mean Doug Needles."

"Oh, him."

"He's gonna dare you to ride you skateboard while holding onto a car later today."

"What? How do you..."

"He's a bully. Bullies are predictable."

"Oh. I didn't know that."

"You'll learn. Anyway, you need to do it."

"Why?"

"Otherwise, he'll tease you every day of your life, and be a real pain. If you do this, just this once, he should leave you alone."

"Okay..." the twelve-year-old said slowly. "But I can't do that."

"Sure you can. You'll be good at it. If you put your mind to it, you can accomplish anything."

"That's what my dad says."

"Yeah, I know." Marty turned back around and asked in a loud voice, "Have you figured out my change yet, Mr. Phillips?"

"Almost... Hang on, I think I've got it."

Marty went to collect his change, observing that Mr. Phillips had only kept his job due to his knowledge of music and his likable personality, not his math. "Get a calculator," he said on his way out. The younger Marty giggled a little at that crack, and picked out the tape he was looking for.

Outside, the temporally-displaced Marty felt quite pleased with himself. He had acquired a new tape, and possibly rid his past of the bullying of Needles. "Talk about killing two birds with one stone! I just hope I didn't actually kill anything."

With these thoughts, the teen wandered back through the streets, comparing the present state of Hill Valley to the other time periods he had visited recently. He also attacked the question of which time he liked best of all. A few minutes of careful consideration left him with the conclusion that each time had its own benefits, as well as several downsides. He finally decided that his own present was the most familiar time to be in, and the safest, as far as the safety of the universe went.

His journey brought him back to the nature preserve. He continued through the pine forest, expecting to hear the sounds of his friends flying their kite. He was not disappointed: he soon heard excited voices coming from the clearing ahead of him.

"... which allowed Verne to paint it," Emmet was just explaining. "In fact, I look on the blue and silver pattern as quite styling. Besides, the balsa wood construction makes the lift coefficients... Look out!"

Marty was close enough to detect the urgency in the scientist's voice. He also heard another sound: a rippling, rushing sound that was heading toward him from above. He realised the situation he was in and dove sideways, rolling in the pine needles and narrowly clearing a tree trunk.

"Thunk!" The kite hit the ground, naturally landing where Marty had stood moments before. The teen stood shakily, his head spinning due to the shock of his narrow escape and also due to the strange feeling of deja vu caused by the recent conversation.

"Phew, that was a close one," he declared after finding his balance.

"Is the kite okay?" asked Verne immediately.

"Uh, I'll check for you," Marty offered. He bent down for a close inspection. "Yes, it's fine. Ready?" He threw the kite back up into the air and ran over to the safety of the picnic rug.

Clara watched Verne for a moment, making sure he had control of the kite. Then she turned to Marty and asked, "Did you find what you wanted?"

"Yeah I did." Marty pulled the cassette out of his pocket and waved it around. "I can hardly wait to listen to it. How's the kite flying been going?"

Clara laughed. "It's a good thing Jules is an accomplished tree climber."

"Oh. How many times?"

"Approximately once every 4.7 minutes," Emmet replied.

"That bad?"

"Unfortunately, yes." Emmet checked one of his watches and called out, "Verne, time to hand the kite over to your brother. Jules, two more minutes until we want to start preparing to leave."

Verne deftly did as instructed, and Jules began performing fancy loops.

Emmet lowered his voice to a conversational tone and asked, "Marty, would you like to have a turn at piloting?"

"No thanks. Not today. Maybe I'll have a go in five years or so." He ended with a joking tone.

"It is good to see you are thinking fourth dimensionally, even if it is solely for the purpose of fun. I remember..."

"CraAAAak!" A nearby pine branch broke, interrupting the conversation.

"Jules, did ya hafta crash the kite just when we're 'bout to leave?" Verne whined.

"It wasn't me, it was this accursed gale."

"Jules, don't speak like that," reprimanded his mother sternly. "There is nothing wrong with the wind. Now go and get the kite down. Verne, stop gawking and help us pack away the picnic things."

"I'll help too," offered Marty. Verne and the trio sitting on the rug began to tidy away all traces of their visit to 1980.

Jules deftly scurried up the tree-trunk and carefully edged along the necessary branch. He reached out and grasped the corner of the kite. He pulled it toward himself, but it stuck fast. He gave it a yank and it moved down and sprang back up. "Hey everyone, it's stuck," he called down.

Receiving no immediate response, he started pulling the kite back and forth, rocking the branch that the string had caught around as the kite fell through the tree. As the limb began to swing wildly, the string began to pull loose. It was mostly off when... "Snap!"

"Jules!" everyone below yelled.

"Don't worry, " he called down to calm them. "Another branch broke and it missed me. Yeowww!"

The branch had sprung away from the tree, taking the tangled string with it. The string finally pulled tight and yanked Jules off his perch. He let go of the kite and grabbed onto the next branch down. He gingerly returned to the trunk and climbed down to the ground, a pained look on his face.

"Are you hurt?" asked his father, concerned.

Jules carefully raised his right arm. The skin had been scraped raw and blood had begun to drip from the wound.

"Great Scott! It looks terribly deep. We had better take you to a doctor immediately."

"Doc, how can we take him to a doctor? We're five years in the past for crying out loud. Don't you think people will ask awkward questions?" Marty protested.

"Don't worry, I plan to take him to a doctor in 1985. We can say he scraped himself climbing a pine tree, which is true, and understandable because there are plenty of pine trees at our house. In fact, we aren't far from the old Shinglehill Estate, as it was known until recently. Recently before the present, that is."

All this time, Emmet had been gradually walking toward the train. Now that he had snapped out of his explanation, he remembered what he had been about to say. "Clara, there is a box of first aid supplies in the back of the tender. Here's the key." He tossed her the key, continuing to hold Jules' wound shut with his other hand.

Clara worked the complicated lock open and located the items needed. Within a minute, Jules' scrape had been cleaned and was covered with a temporary bandage, awaiting stitches. Emmet ducked into the cab for a moment to let the circuits begin their warm up.

Marty and Verne made sure everything had been packed away, and waited in the cab for liftoff. Everyone else soon joined them, Clara holding her injured son in her lap. Jules managed to stay fairly calm despite the strong pains.

Emmet wordlessly flew the train into the air and accelerated through the time barrier. Jules bit his lip to stop himself from shrieking from the pain caused by the jarring. Clara comforted him by ruffling his hair and speaking to him in a soft, soothing voice.

The train paused outside the barn and Emmet let Marty out to open the doors. The train hovered gently in and came to a rest. Marty closed the huge double doors, thinking that Doc should get an automatically opening door.

"You wait here and I shall get the van," Emmet directed.

"What about me?" Marty asked.

"You should be getting home. I'll ring this evening to update you."

"Alright," Marty agreed. "Bye Jules. You'll be okay, I've done this sorta thing myself a number of times. C'ya Verne. Try to keep out of trouble. Clara?"

"Yes Marty?"

"Sorry this turned out so bad. I should really thank you again for the lunch."

"I'm glad you liked it. See you around, as they say in this time period."

Marty jogged back to the garage to retrieve his truck. On the way, he waved to Doc, who was driving his work van up from the garage to the barn. He started her up and drove back home, popping the Dizarsta tape into the player. He pulled into his driveway, after an uneventful and enjoyable drive. He ejected his new tape and dropped it into his jeans pocket.

As he walked up to the front door, he had the strangest feeling. He gave the garden a funny look. It seemed that Linda had been doing an awful lot of gardening. He shrugged and walked in the front door. Even stranger: some of the furniture seemed to be different to the way he remembered it being that morning.

"Who's there?" a girl's voice called from somewhere within the house.

Marty didn't recognise the voice, which also bothered him. Before he had much time to think, a girl about his age and height stepped around the corner out of the hallway.

"Marty! You're back! You're alive! Where have you been?" she exclaimed.

Marty didn't really know what to say. He had no idea who this girl was, despite the strange feeling of familiarity he felt. "Uh, been? I had lunch at Doc's place."

She gave him the funniest look. "What kind of story is that? You don't expect anyone to believe you, do you?"

"I don't understand. Why are you acting like I've been away for a month?" Marty responded, feeling muddled. He added mentally, "And who are you anyway?"

"But you have been away for... well, three weeks."

"WhAAT?" Marty fainted dead away.