Chapter 3

Friday, September 2nd

3:32 P.M.

Marty blinked a few times, letting the world right itself again. Visions of 1955 and pushing George out of the way of Grandpa Sam's car swam in his head. Jesus. It seems like every time I time travel, I end up falling and hitting my head.

Well, at least this time he hadn't landed on hard concrete. He sat up slowly, rubbing his forehead. "Ouch. . . ."

"Great Scott! I'm so sorry," a shockingly familiar voice said. Marty's head snapped up to see another teenage boy -- just about his age, really, but about a foot taller -- hurriedly picking up a bunch of scattered books. "I wasn't looking where I was going," the teen added, looking up at Marty. "Are you all right?"

Marty couldn't respond for a moment. All he could do was stare at the teen's messy, curly blond hair. . .the wristwatches strapped to both wrists. . .the white shirt covered in various colorful stains. . .and those extremely familiar liquid chocolate brown eyes. "You're D-D-- you're D-Doc?"

"Doc" frowned. "Doc? I don't have a doctorate yet. Do you need a doctor?"

"Ah -- no. I--"

"Oh, look," a deep, smooth voice interrupted, "the all-mighty Emmett Brown tripped."

"Doc" -- Emmett -- sighed as he picked up the last of his books. "I'm only human, Henry," he said, getting back to his feet. "Your insistence on chasing me around led to me running into someone."

A trio of very muscular boys swaggered up, about as tall as Emmett and looking to be roughly the same age, perhaps a year or two older. The one in the lead -- Henry -- smirked at Marty, who was still goggling. "Who, that shrimp?"

Shrimp? Marty felt his face heat as his temper rose. He forced himself to take a deep breath and calm down. It's not worth it. Remember that future where you lost your temper and ended up in a dead-end job in a dead-end neighborhood. NOT WORTH IT.

"Yes, him," Emmett said."He was running in the opposite direction on the same pathway."

Henry looked at Marty curiously. "What were you running from, shrimp?"

"Some guy was chasing me with a gun," Marty said, finally remembering to get up. "I guess I was trespassing on his property or something." He looked around nervously. The ox had vanished, apparently satisfied with his work. Marty began to breathe easier. "I wasn't looking where I was going either."

"Oh. Well, if I were you, I'd go home and wash up. You've got Brown germs all over you now." The trio laughed coldly.

Emmett sighed. "Is that the best you could come up with, Henry?"

"Hey, it's true. You're like the victim of some freakish disease." Henry abruptly shoved Emmett, causing him to stumble and nearly fall. Emmett looked annoyed, but took the blow. "All you ever do is sit in your garage doing who knows what. And blowing stuff up, of course."

"I'm still practicing," Emmett grumbled, hugging his books to his body. "Learning the ins and outs of chemistry is an on-going process. I'm just not taking to it as quickly as I did to physics and mechanics."

"Hah. Name one invention of yours that's worked," Henry challenged.

"How about the automatic blackboard wiper? My science teacher loved it."

Henry looked a bit put out. "Well, I guess even freaks have to get lucky sometimes." He turned back to Marty. "I suggest you keep on running, kid. This guy's unstable. Too smart for his own good too."

"I can't help my intelligence!"

"Whatever, Brown. Come on, guys." The trio swaggered away, one of the boys pausing to stomp on the grass for some reason.

Emmett sighed and looked back at Marty. "Well, now you know who I am," he said quietly. "Emmett Brown, local freak. I'll be on my way." He turned and began walking, head held low.

Marty felt a pang of sympathy for Emmett. Even when he was a teenager, he got nothing but crap. "Hey, wait a minute," he called on impulse, wanting to cheer the younger Doc up.

Emmett paused and looked back with a frown. "Yes?"

Marty realized he wasn't sure what to say. He couldn't talk to Emmett like he could to Doc, at any rate. "Uh -- you missed one," he finally said, noticing a book still on the ground. He picked it up, wiped it off, and handed it to Emmett. "Here."

Emmett blinked. "Thank you," he said, sounding stunned. "Most people wouldn't even -- Great Scott, it's my new Jules Verne book! I certainly can't leave this behind. If those other boys had found it, they'd have destroyed it on the spot, just to spite me. Thank you for bringing it to my attention."

"No problem. I'm glad they didn't see it then," Marty said, thinking of his own encounters with bullies. "I'm sorry for running into you like that. Guns just freak me out."

Emmett smiled a little. "It's understandable. We were both being chased. You don't need to apologize."

"Yeah, but I want to. Seems like you got enough crap from those other jerks," Marty smiled back. "I'm Mar-ty Jackson. Well, Michael Jackson really, but everybody calls me Marty."

"Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Jackson," Emmett said, shifting his books so he could shake Marty's hand. "You already know my name."

Marty smirked. "Marty, please. Do they always chase you like that?"

Emmett sighed and rolled his eyes. "Incessantly. It's a game to them. I'm just lucky they weren't in a violent mood today. Otherwise I'd be heading home with a few bruises."

Marty suddenly realized something. In all the excitement, he had somehow lost his time talkie. "Shit," he hissed, looking around. "Uh, D-Emmett--" Man, that feels weird! "--did you happen to see this small black box thing anywhere? About yea big?" He attempted to demonstrate with his hands. "It's really important to me. I was carrying it when that guy with the gun was chasing me, but I guess it went flying or something when I smacked into you."

Emmett's small smile withered. "I did see something to that description. I didn't consider it important, though. Otherwise I would have said something."

"Said something? What happened to it?"

With an apologetic sigh, Emmett pointed to a spot a few paces off. "Remember how I said Henry and his gang like to destroy things?"

Marty's stomach lurched. He jogged over to the spot -- and groaned loudly. The set was there, all right.

Smashed to junk.

Sunday, April 6th, 1986

Hill Valley

3:07 P.M.

"Marty! Marty, come in!"

No response. Not even static. Doc worriedly paced his garage, fondling the walkie-talkie. Something's happened. Marty would never turn off his walkie-talkie like this. Especially if he happened to be in trouble. And judging from what I heard during his last transmission, he was definitely in trouble! He sounded pretty damned scared before he signed off so abruptly. Great Scott, he might even be seriously hurt! Damn, damn damn! Time to terminate the test run and make sure that he's all right!

Doc almost ran for the DeLorean and leapt in. "All right," he mused aloud as he started the engine. "Engine combusting. Time circuits functional -- and set. Mr. Fusion filled. Flux capacitor -- not fluxing?"

Baffled, Doc stared at the device. It actually was fluxing, but far too weakly for time travel. He tried flipping the on/off switch a few times. The fluxing weakened with each flip. What the hell? Doc thought, scowling. What in the name of Sir Isaac H. Newton is wrong with this --

Oh no.

Doc suddenly remembered that, while installing the wiring for the Time Tracker watch, he had been forced to mess with the flux capacitor. It looked like something he had done had managed to short it somewhere. Those time trips couldn't have helped either. "Damn it," Doc moaned. "And in my sleep-addled state, I never noticed. I should have listened to you, Marty."

Friday, September 2nd, 1938

Hill Valley

3:34 P.M.

Marty gently picked up the broken pieces of the walkie-talkie. "Perfect, just perfect," he muttered. "My one link home, and it gets crushed by one of the wonder-bozos."

Emmett looked over his shoulder with a frown. "I'm very sorry about this. I didn't realize its importance to you."

"This was my ticket home," Marty mumbled, ignoring Emmett. "Shit. . . ."

"What was it, anyway?"

Marty blinked as he remembered Emmett's presence. He didn't think they had walkie-talkies in the 1930s - at least, not the kind he was using. What should he say? "Uh -- well -- it's kinda like a two-way radio, you can use to talk to people over long distances," he stammered, trying to keep things as vague as possible. "I work for an inventor, see, and--"

And that was the most idiotic thing I could have possibly said to him, he thought as Emmett's eyes lit up. "An inventor? A local one? Is he looking for assistants? I love science, I want to be an inventor someday too, I've already started building things in our garage, did I tell you about the blackboard erasing machine?" he babbled excitedly.

"Whoa, hold up! Sorry, but he's not local and he's not hiring," Marty said hurriedly.

Emmett's face sank. "Oh. Sorry. I'd just really appreciate a chance to work in a proper lab. My home environment isn't the most conducive toward scientific experimentation."

"Too bad," Marty shrugged. Man, Doc is gonna be --

Doc! That's right, Doc's got the DeLorean! He's gotta come back for me soon, he'll be wondering why I'm not contacting him! I'm not stranded here after all! What a relief. Marty's back straightened. Of course, I gotta keep out of trouble until he shows up. . . . "Listen, Emmett, now that my radio's broken, my boss will come looking for me. I'd better go and try to catch him. Nice meeting you."

"Wait a minute!" Emmett caught Marty's arm and frowned at the pieces in his hand. "Would you like me to make an attempt at fixing that?"

"Huh?"

"I feel somewhat responsible for your device being broken in the first place. And I really am competent with anything mechanical. I managed to fix our phone when it broke, and that sounds like it works on similar principles. I think I could at least try and jerry-rig it so you can talk to your boss and reassure him you're all right."

Uh-oh. "I -- I really don't know," Marty said nervously, fiddling with the parts. "It's really advanced stuff. Plus, I don't know if my boss would like you fiddling with it. He's pretty protective about his inventions."

"Yes, but -- how will he know where to find you if he can't contact you?"

That made Marty pause. Emmett did bring up a good point. He and Doc could end up playing Cat and Mouse if they didn't know where each other was. "Doc's a pretty resourceful guy," Marty hedged. "I could go down to the Courthouse, and I'm sure he'd eventually find me."

"Yes, but after how long? Plus, something could happen to you while you waited. The Okie families have started getting restless. A couple of people have already been mugged."

"I've got a good left hook and a great right jab," Marty assured him -- although the thought of being robbed by desperate Okies wasn't exactly comforting. "I can take care of myself, really."

Emmett's eyes darted back to the pieces. "If you're sure. . . ."

A thought struck Marty, making him smirk. "You just want to play with this thing, don't you?"

"That's not true!" Emmett protested, turning pink. Marty's smirk grew wider. Typical Doc. "Okay, okay, maybe it is. But I really do feel guilty, Mr. Jackson -- Marty. Just give me a chance. Please."

Marty looked at Emmett's pleading face. He was abruptly reminded of Doc's expression when Doc had taken him home after they had first met. It was an expression that spoke of a lot of lonely days in the lab, with only his precious inventions to keep him company. Emmett didn't want to just fiddle around with the walkie-talkie. He wanted Marty's company as well. That's kind of weird though, he just met me. Then again, if everybody acts like those three goons did to him, I might be the first guy who hasn't immediately jumped down his throat in a while. A swell of pity rose in his chest. Damn it. . . . He reluctantly handed over the pieces of the set.

Emmett carefully studied them, looking like he was about to start drooling any second. "Wow. You were right, these do look like advanced electronics. Your friend must be a real genius. I wish I could meet him."

Marty just barely kept in his laughter. "He's a private person. More at home with machines than with people."

"I sympathize," Emmett said, rolling his eyes. "It's rather futuristic, but I think I can rig something up. At least, I can try." He grinned at Marty. "You must be pretty smart yourself to work for this inventor. Do you have any experience with electrical work?"

"Uh -- not really," Marty admitted, a bit embarrassed. "I'm really more of a go-for guy. I didn't have much of an interest in science at all until I met up with the Doc."

"Doc?"

"Yeah, I call him Doc. Doctor -- Ricky Ricardo." Oh yeah, good one, McFly.

"Ricky Ricardo?" Emmett snorted. "Well, really, I shouldn't say anything, it's no worse than Von Braun. Or even my own middle name."

"You mean Lathrop?" Marty sniggered.

"Yes! My mother must -- wait a minute, how did you know that!"

Marty was saved from answering by a feminine yell. "Emmett!"

Emmett spun around, his face lighting up. "Lucy!" He jogged up to the approaching girl and gave her a hug. "How are you, my dear?"

"Just fine," Lucy purred, running her fingers through his hair. "Were those nasty boys bothering you again?"

"Yes, unfortunately. Luckily I managed to run into someone much nicer." Emmett turned back around, the girl at his side. "Lucy, this is Mr. Michael 'Marty' Jackson. Marty, this is Miss Lucy Childs." With a silly grin, he added, "My girlfriend."

"Pleasure to meet you," Marty said, hiding his shock. That was another thing he had never imagined -- Doc with a girlfriend. He was so used to his best friend being a bachelor, it seemed weird for him to be with somebody.

Hell, McFly, he's only human, he scolded himself as he shook Lucy's hand. Of course he's going to have girlfriends! What about Jill Wooster? He frowned. Yeah, the woman who publically dumped Doc for his worst enemy. Bad example. But still, it's not like he's gonna be alone all his life.

"Likewise," Lucy said neutrally. She cocked her head at him, looking Marty up and down. She was an extremely pretty girl -- about Marty's height, with short blond hair and cool green eyes. She was dressed in a light yellow blouse and long blue skirt, both obviously expensive. Her only defect seemed to be a permanent scowl. Very casually, she asked, "What does your father do for a living, Mr. Jackson?"

"Uh -- Dad writes, and I'm an inventor's assistant. I'm actually here in Hill Valley to help test an invention."

"Unfortunately, Henry and his gang destroyed it after Marty bumped into me," Emmett said, showing Lucy the remains of the set. "I convinced Marty to let me try and get it running again." He grinned at the tangle of wires and plastic. "Doesn't it look exciting?"

Lucy gave him a condescending smile. "Oh I wouldn't know. I'm just your girlfriend. Mechanical things are beyond me."

Marty frowned. Something about Lucy's tone of voice was bugging him. It was -- it was the kind of tone you'd use when you were listening to someone's boring hobby. Marty studied her closer. Although she appeared to be clinging to Doc, there was very little actual contact between them. And the look on her face didn't suggest love at all -- it suggested tolerance. Marty felt a sinking in his stomach. Uh-oh. . . .

Emmett, however, was oblivious, too caught up in studying the walkie-talkie innards. "I know, I know, you don't care. You have other things to do. It's fine, sweetie."

"Yes, and that's what I wanted to talk to you about. I'm afraid I'm going to have to cancel our date for tonight. Mother wants me to give a piano recital for her friends. And you know how stubborn Mother can be once she sets her mind on something." Lucy sighed. "I'm sorry."

Doc frowned. "I'm sorry too. I was looking forward to tonight. Oh well." He perked up. "At least you can walk back home with me. That way we can spend a little time together."

"Sounds wonderful," Lucy smiled, looping her arm in his.

Marty felt a bit awkward, but also relieved. Maybe here was a chance to escape before he messed up the space-time continuum. "Listen, if you guys want some alone time, I'll just take my set and leave. Doc can fix it later."

"No, it's all right," Emmett said. "I promised to try and fix it for you. You won't disturb us, I'm sure."

"Emmett, if he wants to leave, you should let him," Lucy argued. "Besides--" she shot Marty a disdainful look "-- he's not our class anyway."

Marty felt his temper rise again. "What does that mean?" he snapped.

"Well, you're obviously not of our social class. That coat is a definite hand me down. And you're working, no less."

"Lucy, there's nothing wrong with working at our age," Emmett said patiently. "I'm actively seeking employment in his field, remember?"

"True, but you don't need to work. That makes all the difference." She gave him a sickeningly-sweet smile. "In fact, with the Von Braun fortune at your fingertips, and the Childs fortune at mine, neither of us need ever work. We're above all that."

Marty stomach sank even further. Oh boy. You can't interfere, McFly, Doc would kill you. But damn it, doesn't he see that all she's interested in is his money? Or does he just not care? Maybe he doesn't. Maybe he wants a girlfriend that badly. Jesus, I hope that's not the case. It would be way too depressing otherwise. Just please -- let him dump her

"You really shouldn't put so much emphasis on class, honey," Emmett counseled. Lucy merely shrugged. "And it was kind of my fault that the device got broken. I have a duty to set things right."

"But won't this mysterious employer of his be looking for him?" Lucy asked, giving Marty a cold look.

"Yeah, he probably is." In fact, he should be here already, Marty thought, annoyed. I mean, I told him I was on Riverside Drive before the accident. Where the hell is he?

"Well, it's possible his employer got tied up with another invention. It happens to me more often than I'd care to admit."

Marty was about to protest this when a thought struck him. The inventions for the DeLorean. . . . Doc stayed up all night working on them. Maybe something happened to the car, and he has to try and fix it before getting me. But we made it here okay, and Doc made it back, too. If something really was wrong, we'd both be stranded here and I wouldn't be in this mess. Unless --

Unless it happened after Doc dropped me off. What if -- what if Doc's just as lost as I am? What if something happened to him while he was trying to get me? I mean, I know Doc. He'd come as soon as I stopped responding -- otherwise, he'd be tearing his hair out in worry. Damn it! I hate not knowing what's happened to him! He'd better be okay. He'd just better.

Emmett frowned at Marty's strained expression. "Are you all right, Marty? Did I upset you somehow? I didn't mean to, I'm sorry."

"No, I'm okay," Marty said, waving a hand in what he hopped was a casual manner. "He should notice I'm missing soon enough. We're really pretty close. But you know, you're right. I probably should see if I can contact him over that."

Emmett nodded and grinned, vindicated. "Well, you can stay at my house until I fix the device. I don't think my family will mind. He won't bother us on our walk, Lucy," Emmett added as Lucy sniffed.

"I promise I won't," Marty added. "I'll walk far behind you." And I'll be concentrating too hard on a way to get out of this mess to bug you, too.

"Oh, all right," Lucy sighed, as if much put upon. She linked her arm with Emmett's and they started off down the street. Marty lagged behind, wondering how to make his stay at the Brown mansion as short as possible. Man, I really hope that Doc understands this was all an accident. I'd hate for him to think that he can't trust me. But I have to contact him. I have to know that he's okay.

He watched Emmett and Lucy for a few minutes. Emmett had put his arm around her now, and was whispering sweet nothings into her ear. Marty couldn't help but smile. The Doc in love. Who would've thought? Too bad he's in love with a gold digger. . . . He shook his head. This is turning out to be one hell of a day. What's next, some random person dropping out of the sky?

"BOO!"