Chapter Seven

Monday, December 31st, 1941

2:00 PM

Marty raced through Hill Valley like a mad man. Many people turned and stared at this strangely-dressed fellow bounding along at breakneck speed. Out-of-towners were so odd-mannered.

But Marty didn't really care. Once again, he was racing about his home town in a time period he didn't belong in, trying desperately to fix a problem in history that he had caused. He actually had to chuckle at himself. I'm getting pretty good at saving Hill Valley. But when he reached the edge of the ravine, his grin soon disappeared.

Same old ravine he had nearly fallen into in 1885, but it was different. For one, the sign that had once read "Eastwood Ravine" now had changed to "Clayton Ravine."

Marty had to sit down. He was really stuck this time. He was expecting his father to come out of nowhere and ground him for the rest of life. He knew he had messed things up bad.

"If the government doesn't get those letters, the clock tower will never be built. If the clock tower is never built, it can't be struck by lightning. If the clock tower is never struck by lightning, I never go back to the future. If I never go back to the future, Doc will still have been shot. If Doc dies, he'll never go back to 1885 and meet Clara. If Clara never meets Doc…" Marty let his thoughts trail off.

Someone had to know. And that was when it hit him.

His grandfather! He would know where they go! But was he already at the front line? No, he wouldn't go for another two weeks! Marty stood and decided to find his grandfather. Ronald McFly was right; he would see Marty in the future.

- - - - -

KNOCK! KNOCK! Marty rapped his hand against the wooden front door. He remembered this house very well. It was the same one his father George had lived in around 1955. It had changed that much, save for being a little newer-looking.

"Hello?" Marty turned back to face the front door.

"Oh, hi. Um, is Ronald, er, I mean is Lt. McFly home?"

"Why yes, of course," The woman turned to get her husband. It was kinda weird for Marty seeing his grandmother this young. It was like the time he met his mother as a teenager and, well, some things were best left forgotten.

Soon, Ronald McFly appeared at the door. "What can I help you with? Oh, wait a minute. You're that fellow Don was ratting on over by the Court House."

"Yeah, the name's Marty." The teen answered, putting his hand forward. Ronald took it.

"You got a last name, Marty?"

"Uh," Marty thought, "Brown. Marty Brown."

"Brown, eh? Any chance you're related to those new folks from Germany? Let's see, what was his name? Oh yes; Wilhelm. And he had a wife and kid named Emmett I think. Strange kid…" Ronald said quietly.

"Yeah, uh, listen Gramps, uh, Ronald. Can you do me a favor? I know back in town you said you were headed to the front lines and I was wondering…" Marty held up the bundle of letters, "…Could you get these letters to the right people?"

"What are they for?"

"Uh, the Court House. If the government doesn't get them, the Court House won't be built, uh, maybe. Like it might not get built, and I really like that place, even though I've never been there because it's not finished, but…" Marty realized he was going nowhere fast and only succeeding in making his grandfather think he was an idiot.

But Ronald just smiled. "You know, I never thought you were the history-loving type. I think that's real upright of you to take such an interest in this town." Ronald grabbed the letters, "I'll get these letters where they need to go. Don't you worry."

It was at that moment that a small boy came running through the front door, wielding a small tin rocket ship and producing the necessary sounds for spaceflight. He nearly tripped over Marty and ran headlong into Ronald.

"George!" Ronald scolded, "What did I tell you about that blasted toy rocket ship?"

"But, daddy," a six-year-old George protested, "I want to be a spaceman!" With all the attention span a six-year-old could have, George immediately lost interest in what his father was saying and promptly resumed his spaceman fantasy.

"That boy," Ronald said, shaking his head, "He's got more crazy notions than that Brown kid."

"Be easy on him," Marty consoled, "He's just creative." Both Ronald and Marty stood for a few second in an awkward silence. It was still strange to Marty to be talking to someone who he knew would be killed in a few years. It was like he wanted him to be careful, if only to be around when Marty himself was born so he could learn things from him.

"Be careful," Marty said without thinking, "Cause, um, you got a great life here and I would hate to see little George so lonely…"

"I will, son." Ronald said, "You bet I will." With that, they shook hands and the white door closed shut. Marty just stood there, wishing he could change his family's future.

But he already had.

- - - - -

Marty was running fast again. He was getting exhausted very fast. The only way to figure out if it worked was to go back to 1985 and pick up Doc from the roof of the library. Marty hoped he would be there.

- - - - -

It was like a light at the end of a tunnel. No, wait a minute. That couldn't be right. It was darker than tar outside. Doc picked himself up from the cold concrete he had been sleeping on.

Was he really sleeping? It was kind of like sleeping, but different. Then again, what he considered unconsciousness was not what other people considered unconsciousness. Yet again, Einstein's theory of relativity was working its wonders.

Then Doc's thoughts returned. He remembered something about a fellow named Fusion. Mr. Fusion? That sounded right.

No! Not a man! A machine! It was like the light bulb finally came on. Doc was up here because it was the last place he saw Marty. Before the future got twisted even more. Or was it twisted to begin with?

The Court House! There was another brief subject jumping into his head. They were like popcorn today; exploding left and right without rhyme or reason.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! Speaking of exploding…

- - - - -

The Delorean's windshield brought the Hill Valley Public Library into view. Marty was finding it hard to see through the darkness over the billions of lighted control panels and switches Doc had installed. He glanced one more time at the destination display to make sure he was in the right time. That was when he found the head lights.

Almost immediately the roofline of the library was illuminated in the bright white glow. If Marty wasn't mistaken, he could see a tall man with wild white hair waving madly from the roof.

The Doc! He was alive.

They were going to get out of this yet!

- - - - -

Doc shielded his eyes from the glare of the lit undercarriage. The hovering Delorean was never such a welcome sight in all his life. Not even that time when Marty came back after that incident with the Libyans. Well, maybe not.

The wheels folded up as the car touched down. Marty McFly's familiar frame burst out of the gull-wing doors.

"Doc!" He shouted, "It worked! I gave the letters to my grandfather and it worked! The old man came through for us!"

"I'm really proud of you, Marty!" Doc said, embracing Marty and then stepping back to make sure he was all right, "Great job! Now we have to get back to 1941 and fix that train!" Things were looking bright even among the dark night sky.

"I'm with you, Doc! Let's do it!"

The Delorean rose faithfully from its resting place on the library's roof. Like it had done a dozen times before, the stainless-steel flying car pierced through the night and disappeared once again.

The future was almost set. Almost.