Chapter Five

Sunday, October 26th, 1985

2:13 AM

Marty wiped the beads of cold sweat from his forehead as he clamped his hands around the Delorean's steering wheel. Now where was that darned hover mode switch? He ran his hands over the dashboard in search of it. Hmmm…. There was green switch on the steering wheel.

The Delorean jolted and shook Marty. Yep, that was it. Now he was hovering a few feet off the roof of the library. Now Marty assumed that the steering wheel was like the joystick; maybe it worked like the jet fighter game at the arcade. Marty gingerly pulled back on the wheel. The nose of the Delorean angled up towards the night sky. Unfortunately, Marty was still going nowhere fast.

"Maybe I need to give it some gas…" Marty thought as he jammed on the throttle.

ZOOOOOMMMMM! The Delorean took off like fighter from a carrier's flight deck. Soon, the library appeared as nothing more than a spec in the grand view of Hill Valley. It was quite a spectacle to behold and Marty wished he would have time to enjoy it some time when he wasn't trying to put history back together.

"Now I've got to go down," Marty thought, "I must be getting close to the police station." He edged the wheel forward ever so slightly and the Delorean faithfully nosed downwards to the silent town. Soon, the modern, angular building of the Hill Valley Police Station was in sight. Marty looked around for a parking, er, landing spot.

I didn't take him long. He looked down and saw the same alleyway that Doc had landed in when he took Marty and Jennifer on that wild trip to 2015. Dark and out of the way, Marty figured it was his best chance.

It was a little rough, but besides the few trashcans that got mutilated and the poor cat that almost got squashed, Marty managed a reasonably safe landing.

"Okay, Doc, what'd you leave me?" Marty said quietly as he searched the Delorean for anything that might be useful. After all, sneaking into a police station in the middle of the night was not something he felt cut out to do.

A small black electronic object fell into his lap. The sleep inducing alpha rhythm generator! Marty had no idea how to use it, but there was only one button and he thought he could figure out the rest. Anyone who got in his way would be in for the nap of their lives.

Marty sneaked up to the edge of the sidewalk, gripping the generator like it would save his life. Maybe it would. He took a moment to look around the area. This was his home town and he should know it well, but with this alternate universe going on, he had to be sure he knew what was real.

That's funny, Marty thought to himself, I could've sworn that Biff's shop was right here. But Biff's shop was not there.

Hmph, Marty resolved indignantly, Maybe he's a homeless bum. Serves him right. With that he crept behind some obviously overgrown hedges until he was crouched next to the steps to the station's entrance. He could here three police officers standing on them discussing the recent encounters their fellow officers had had with a flying Delorean. It was funny though. Their voices seemed very familiar to Marty.

Marty looked at the clock near the First Bank of America. It read "2:31 AM". He really needed to hurry up and get those guys out of the way. Maybe a little distraction was in order. He looked over at a nearby bench.

There, on the bench, was the poorly clothed and smelly Red: the neighborhood bum. Mart reached in his pocket and pulled out a fifty. The police were going to get one heck of a diversion.

- - - - -

"…So I says to the guy 'you saw a flying Delorean?' and he says 'yeah it flew right over our heads!'", Said the first officer. "I tell ya, what a bunch of malarkey."

"Rivers musta really flipped out. The Lieutenant is readin' him the rite act on it." Amongst the officers' jovial conversation, a short fellow in a dirty jacket that was two sizes too small approached them. The officers stared cockeyed at the strange homeless-looking guy.

"S'cuse me, officers," the old guy said. It was obvious from the way he slurred his speech that he had already had one too many beers. "But I just saw a man rip off an old lady's purse. You might want to catch that son of a gun."

"Who do we look like?" the third officer said, "Mother Teresa? Get lost, Red!" Red looked discouraged and his eyes brightened as he got another idea.

"Hey!" he said, "You fellers should really try some o' this!" He hurled a half-empty bottle of beer at the first officer. The sticky liquid splattered all over his blue uniform. Red chuckled and instantly turned around and ran.

"After that guy!" Said the first officer as they took off. Red just kept running, thumbing a fifty dollar bill in his pocket and wondering how he would spend it once he escaped these guys.

- - - - -

Marty watched from the bushes as Red led the officers on a wild goose chase through the city. Once he was confident that no one was looking, Marty leapt over the railing and bolted up the steps. He stopped at the door and peered inside. No one yet.

Opening the door as slowly as he could, Marty crept in. He had only been to the station once, and that was a field trip during 5th grade. He looked at the sign that was posted for visitors. It held a list of all the services offered and a list rooms that corresponded with it.

"'Evidence Collection'." Marty said to himself, "That looks like the right one." It was apparently upstairs in room 201. He would have to be stealthy.

As the teenager crept up the wooden stairs he thought to himself, Man this just like the time I tailed Strickland into his office. It felt like it was just yesterday, but in fact it was technically thirty years ago when Marty tried to obtain that sports almanac from a younger and meaner Biff Tannen.

As it turned out, the door to the evidence room was unlocked. Apparently security was pretty lax at night. Marty peered into the thick glass and instantly spotted that familiar yellow case. The side read "WARNING: Plutonium. Handle with care." Just for luck, he cracked it open and spotted ten vials still inside. That meant he had ten tries to get it right.

Marty suddenly remembered how volatile the substance was and gingerly closed the lid, making sure he secured all the latches. Now for the escape.

Marty knew he wasn't James Bond or anything, but he figured Red was still giving those idiot cops a run for their money so all he had to do was slip out quietly the same way he came in.

Marty was just on his way down the wooden stairs when he heard the sickening sound of pistol being cocked. He froze.

"Where the heck do you think you're going with that, butthead?" Marty turned to face the speaker with one hand raised in surrender.

It was Biff Tannen! "Hey! You're McFly's boy!"

"Uh," Marty stammered, "Yeah, uh, that's right Biff."

"That's Lieutenant Tannen to you, punk!" Biff growled, his face angry as a bulldog's. Marty finally noticed the blue uniform, along with a shiny police badge and a very shiny pistol.

Just then, the three cops who had chased after Red bumbled into the room. Marty finally made the connection: they were Biff's friends from 1955. Apparently they had become too good of friends. Good enough to get each of them a job in their corrupted police force.

If Marty thought he was in trouble before, he had another thing coming. He was stuck in an alternate universe with the only hope of getting things fixed in his very hands. Doc was erased from existence and now it looked like Marty was going to have a very unfriendly chat with "Lieutenant" Biff Tannen.