Chapter Two
Sunday, December 31st, 1941
12:00 PM
HOOOONNNNNKKKK! Marty swerved to the right as a truck blared its horn. But thankfully, it wasn't Needles' red Ford. The Delorean dodged to the right while the truck driver tried to keep himself and his vehicle under control. The time machine bounced and jolted over what was now a dirt road. Marty cranked the wheel left and guided the Delorean into a field of tall grass and came to a stop under a thick oak tree.
As he opened the door, Marty could see the damage he caused; the truck was a US Postal Service truck. Actually, it was just a Ford Delivery truck with a red white and blue logo that signified its allegiance. The truck had also bounced and jolted along the dirt road and several cartons of mail were strewn across the road. At the moment, the very angry driver was quickly gathering the letters and postcards and trying to place them back in the correct order.
Marty ran over to help, aware that he was the cause for the mix-up.
"I'm sorry, pal. I didn't see you."
"Sorry? Sorry doesn't fix this mess. Where in tarnation were you headed in such a hurry? I ain't never seen such a gussied-up contraption as the one yer driving in all my life as post master for the Hill Valley Post Office."
"It's a long story," Marty stammered, "Here, let me help you."
"Well, alright." The driver calmed down, "I've never turned down free help." He chuckled. Marty felt a bit awkward. It seemed he was already making an astounding impression on 1940's Hill Valley. He had a knack for that.
Within a few minutes, the post master gathered his wits and the mail truck was off once more down the dirt road that would someday be called Riverside Drive. Marty glanced down at the ground. Several letters were still strewn about, but the bewildered post master had obviously deemed them unworthy of being drawn out from the mud and dirt.
"Hey!" Marty shouted, hoping to catch the mail truck's attention again. But the post master didn't seem to notice. Or didn't care. Regardless of his intentions, the truck was not stopping for a few letters.
Better find Doc. Marty got back into the Delorean and removed the keys from the ignition. He then made sure the doors were locked; giving a firm tug at the handles to be sure it was secure. He looked around; nothing but tall grass and a large oak tree.
Confident that the Delorean was well-hidden, Marty walked down the dirt road and towards the town of Hill Valley, California.
- - - - -
To describe 1940's Hill Valley in a word would be… different. Of course, Hill Valley had evolved as a town since its earliest stages in 1885 to the futuristic style Marty had seen in 2015. He realized he shouldn't be surprised at all; he had seen more eras of his home town than other human being alive. Except for the Doc, of course.
Upon reaching the town square, Marty couldn't help but be bewildered that the Clock Tower was still surrounded by scaffolding and ropes. Countless wooden beams and other hardware lay about, waiting to be added to the structure.
They still haven't finished this thing? Marty wondered aloud. What's the hold up? He didn't have to wonder for long. A group of pedestrians were marching down the sidewalk carrying large posters, most of which featured good old Uncle Sam pointing his finger and stating "I want you to join the U.S. Army". As they got nearer, the crowd could be heard chanting their dislike of President Roosevelt's decision to enter the war. Or something.
"How about you, newcomer?" a man in a suit pointed at Marty, "You don't look like you're from Hill Valley. What's your take on this war?"
"War?" Marty croaked. He secretly wished he had done better in Mrs. Field's high school history class.
"Yes, man. The war."
"Um, exactly what war is that?" Marty could feel the protestor's eyes boring into him as his ears turned red.
"The second World War, man! What do think of the President's decision to enter war?"
"I think it's, uh, good. I mean, we should fight for our freedoms. You know; truth, justice, and the American way."
"That's what I keep saying, Don." Another man said, "He may be young, but that boy's got some sense in his head." This guy seemed familiar. Almost too familiar. Like a face from a photograph.
"But what about our clock tower, Ronald?" the first man said, "If we don't send enough letters to the government, they'll use it make tanks or machine guns or the like!"
"The government cuts funding sometimes, Don. Don't bore this newcomer with your ideas about where the clock tower's money should go." The crowd dispersed slightly as Don and few others continued their march about. It took Marty about three seconds to figure it out.
"You're Ronald McFly!" Marty exclaimed, a little too loud. This man was his grandfather! The man turned and faced Marty.
"That's right," Ronald said, "And that's Lt. McFly to you, son."
"Oh, I'm sorry,"
"You seem a bit familiar to me," Lt. McFly said, looking Marty over. He was obviously a little taken by the new comer's strange choice of dress. A life preserver and some strange white shoes.
"Me. Oh, um, probably not." Marty stammered. He was having trouble coming up with words. He was actually talking to his grandfather. Marty had never known his grandfather Ronald as a child. He had died long before he was born on the beaches of Normandy during World War II. Marty remembered the black and white photo from the one above the fireplace. Not even Marty's father, George had known Ronald for very long. George was six when his mother got the letter from the government.
It was strange; like talking to a ghost.
"So, um. Are you in the army?"
"Can't you see the uniform, son?" Marty winced, knowing it would be more accurately "grandson".
"Oh,"
"I'll be headed for active duty in two weeks," Ronald said, "I'll see you around in the future." With a wave, the man walked off. Marty stared at the soldier as he left, getting the feeling it was the only time he would ever see his grandfather again.
The future. Oh yeah, he was in the past again; he'd almost forgot. Time to find Doc.
- - - - -
Marty made his way to Eastwood Ravine. Funny; he remembered it as Clayton Ravine, but he remembered that Doc had saved Clara from plummeting to her death in 1885, thus renaming it. For some reason, the folks of Hill Valley liked to name stuff after people who died horrible deaths. Or at least they thought.
The trip down was a bit steep. The few sticks and shrubs that stuck out from the cliff's rocky walls provided only less than ideal surfaces for transit. After almost losing his balance a few times, Marty finally approached the bottom. He could see from where he was standing that a camp fire had been lit off in the distance.
Tripping and wading through the thick underbrush, Marty slowly made it closer and closer to the flickering light.
"Who's there!" Marty's heart jumped out of his chest. That voice scarred him half to death.
"Augh!" was all the teenager managed to get out as he raised his hands in surrender.
"Marty?" The voice called out again. This time Marty recognized it!
"Doc?"
"Marty, how many times do I have to tell you? Dress for the times!" the tall figure of Doctor Emmett Brown came into full view from behind a bush. Doc was wearing period-correct business suit and his wild, white hair glowed orange from the camp fire's light. "Don't tell me you walked around Hill Valley 1941 in that outfit."
"Good to know you're still on top of things, Doc. What's with scaring me half to death?"
"I couldn't risk letting anyone else see the time machine!" Doc said, still excited. Doc was always excited; like a kid. No off switch, just Doc's eccentric personality. "Speaking of which, where's the Delorean?"
"Hey, don't worry; it's safe. I hid it on Riverside Drive and there's nothing out there but trees and tall grass. And besides…" Marty dangled a key ring in Doc's face, "…You can't go anywhere without the keys."
Doc smiled in approval of Marty's quick thinking. "Good job, Marty. I knew I could count on you. You brought the flight circuits?"
"Yeah, they're…oh crap! I left them back at the Delorean!"
"Well, no harm done, we'll go right know and retrieve them. When we get the to the Delorean, we'll take it back here and start fixing the train."
"Hold up Doc," Marty said as his friend turned to leave, "What about Clara? Aren't you going to tell her you're going to be gone?"
"Marty…" Doc said in that voice that sounded like that of a teacher, "We have a time machine; she'll never know we were gone."
Marty resigned his argument.
"You're the Doc, Doc."
- - - - -
Doc and Marty waded through the tall grass and crept up to the still Delorean. It was still silent and apparently hadn't been touched. Doc opened up the car's door and peered inside.
I can't see a thing, He thought. Putting the key in the ignition and turning it lit up the interior like a Christmas tree.
"So I'm guessing you made it here without a scratch?" Doc asked Marty, who was keeping watch for any nosy passer-bys. "The Delorean seems okay."
"Yeah, Doc," Marty said, "Listen; about where you put the Delorean. I, uh…"
"You liked the attic? It was Clara's idea. Actually, she suggested hiding it beneath the floor boards like in that Poe novel, but I figured you wouldn't know how to get it out. That's why I built the elevator to hoist it up in the attic."
"What?" Marty stammered, "There's an elevator?"
"Well yes, there's an elevator." Doc said, giving Marty a confused look, "How else did you get it out of the attic?" Marty paused, wondering how he should answer Doc's question.
"Uh, well, we'll worry about that later, Doc." Marty said. He decided he would tell Doc about the roof when they got back. Better yet, he could fix it and go back to the future so Doc would never know. Naw, he should just tell him.
"Hey Doc?"
"Yes, Marty…Oh, wait. Uh oh."
"What's wrong, Doc?" Marty asked, fearing the worst. He didn't want to be stuck back in time again.
"These are flight circuits for the Delorean, not the train!"
"Sorry, Doc. It was kinda dark and they were the only ones I saw…"
"No harm done," Doc reassured him, "We'll just take a trip back, or should I say forward, to 1985 and retrieve them."
"Okay, Doc. You're driving." The Delorean backed out from the tall grass and onto the dark, moon-lit dirt road. Doc reached over and punched in their destination.
Destination: October 25th, 1985, 11:20 PM
Current Time: December 31st, 1941, 12:00 AM
Last Time Traveled: December 31st, 1941, 12:00 PM
Doc paused and fished around his coat pockets for something. At last he smiled and held up a pair of futuristic glasses. Sliding the glasses on, he looked over at Marty.
"Hold on…"
"Doc, you didn't!"
"Yes, Marty. I did."
The Delorean shook and rattled as it hovered a few inches off the ground. The four wheels folded out and tucked under the chassis in a 90 degree angle so they faced downward. Marty felt that familiar uneasy feeling he always got on airplanes as the Delorean jolted up and forward into the night sky of Hill Valley 1941.
BANG! BANG! BANG! They were back to the future.
Again.