"Doc! Doc, I need your help!" A loud voice preceded by loud banging woke Doctor Emmett Brown from his slumber.
"What's going on?" Clara asked, rubbing her eyes. The Doc pushed off the covers and tenderly touched his wife's arm.
"Go back to bed, I'll handle it," he answered, putting on his bathrobe and hurrying down the hall of his Victorian style home. He stumbled down the steps, flicked on the living room light and opened the front door to where the banging was originating. Marty was standing there, shivering, his eyes bloodshot.
"Doc," Marty mumbled, looking ghastly.
"Marty, my God, come in," Doc said, startled to see his old friend, and in such a condition. He guided Marty into the living room.
"Doc, I need your help. I didn't know where else to go," Marty rambled, plopping down on one of the couches. The Doc grabbed a large blanket and wrapped it around Marty's shoulders. Marty looked around. The pictures of Thomas Jefferson and other great minds were still hanging there and Doc's hair was as mangled as ever, but everything else looked different. There were toys, science-based magazines and medical journals, designer furniture, old-fashioned rocking chairs. The most different of all, there were so silly inventions or gadgets around.
"Now just stay calm and tell me what happened," Doc said smoothly. Marty struggled with the words, blinking back tears.
"Something bad happened," he managed to say. Doc looked at him sympathetically.
"I..." Marty stopped as Doc's shaggy dog Einstein ran into the living room and jumped up on the couch next to Marty.
"Hey, Einy." Marty rubbed Einstein's hair, who proceeded to lick Marty's face. Marty looked up at the Doc, who stared at him intently.
"My brother was stabbed," Marty said softly. Doc let out a quiet gasp. "He's dead, Doc." Doc touched Marty's knee.
"I'm sorry, son." Marty shook his head and stood up, pacing back and forth.
"We need to do something!"
"What can we do?" Doc said confused.
"We need to go back in time and change it. Do something to stop this from happening!" Marty exclaimed. Doc stood up slowly.
"Marty, the DeLorean was destroyed. You know that. We can't go back."
"What about the train? The train you and Clara came back on! We can use that!" Marty said hopefully. Doc shook his head sadly.
"Marty, it's gone. I destroyed it shortly after I moved here."
"What!" Marty yelled, upset. "Why would you do that!"
"I told you, Marty," Doc said calmly, placing his hands on Marty's shoulders. "For the good of the world, I needed to destroy it. I should have never built it in the first place. It was too dangerous to tamper with time. You saw that." Marty backed up from Doc's reach, shaking his head in disbelief.
"No, it wasn't! I need it now. You need to build another one!" Marty screamed, pain blaring in his eyes.
"Marty, I can't…" Doc whispered.
"Yes, you can!" Marty yelled loudly. "You did it before. You can do it again." Marty ran up to Doc and grabbed his shoulders as if he was going to shake him. "I need you to do this for me. Just this one time. Please…" Doc shook his head. Marty looked him straight in the eyes, tears falling down his cheeks. "Please, Doc. I need to change this. I need you to do this for me. Please, Doc. Please…Please…" Marty pleaded. Doc looked to be at a loss for words, conflicted beyond all reason of what to do. They stared at each other for a long time. Finally, the Doc took a deep breath and looked straight into Marty's watery eyes.
"O.K., I'll help you."
To be continued…