Marty held the camera steady as Doc carefully loaded a glass canister containing one beaker of plutonium into a chamber. Doc held the canister in place for a few seconds before the red liquid was sucked into the machine's insides faster than anything Elle had ever seen before. This movement made Marty jerk so bad he nearly elbowed her in the face.
"It's safe now," Doc announced, removing his face mask. "Everything's lead-lined. Don't you lose those tapes now, I need that as a record," he added to Marty. He started off for the driver's seat before doubling back again. "I almost forgot my luggage!" he picked up a steel suitcase and loaded it, weirdly, into the car's front hood. "Who knows if they've got cotton underwear in the future, I'm allergic to all synthetics."
"The future?" Elle said. "That's where you're going?"
"That's right. 25 years into the future," Doc affirmed, a faraway gleam in his eccentric eyes. "I've always dreamed of seeing the future, looking beyond my years, seeing the progress of mankind... I'll also be able to see who wins the next 25 World Series!"
Marty smiled wanly. "Hey, Doc. Look me- look us up," he said, glancing at Elle. "When you get there."
Doc returned his smile. "Indeed I will. Roll 'em." Marty shouldered the camera once more and gave Doc a thumbs up.
Doc opened the door, its characteristic hiss escaping into the night. "I, Dr. Emmett Brown, am about to embark on an historic journey." Then he began laughing. "What am I thinking of? I almost forgot to bring extra plutonium. How did I ever expect to get back? One pellet, one trip. I must be out of my mind." He leaned on the car door, clearly shocked at this lapse of concentration.
Einstein, who was in the trailer, started to bark. Doc looked at him. "What is it, Einie?" Einstein jerked his head to the right. Doc followed it and his face grew pale. He took a few steps forward, as though in a trance. "Oh, my God. They found me. I don't know how, but they found me. Run for it, kids!" Doc dived to the tralier.
Marty swiveled around, still holding the camera. "Who?!"
Doc pointed at the road, eyes frantic. "Who do you think?! The Libyans!"
Marty followed his gaze and found a blue, beaten up van coming their way, headlights blaring in the distance. A man emerged through the sun roof toting a machine gun- and it was pointed straight at them. "Holy shit!" Marty yanked Elle's arm down and brought her to the ground behind the DeLorean. The Libyans had started firing; bullets ricocheted off of the trailer and the DeLorean alike, pinging through the night air.
"I'll draw their fire!" Doc declared, removing a small pistol from his trunk. He aimed at the van and pulled the trigger: he was recieved only with an empty click.
Click... click... click...
Doc looked at his pistol in horror before retreating to the other end of the trailer. The van swerved around and cornered Doc, the sun-roof man cocking his gun threateningly. Doc stood there, eyes wide, his hands up. He even tossed his pistol off to the side, landing with a small clatter.
For a moment, no one moved a muscle. The seconds dragged on as Marty and Elle clung to each other, their ragged breathing becoming the only thing that filled the silence. Elle was too afraid to blink, too afraid that she would miss something-
The sunroof man pulled the trigger and opened fire on Doc, the bullets cascading down upon his chest like some kind of demented waterfall. They watched in terrified silence as Doc fell, as everything they had ever known fell to pieces at their feet...
Elle unfroze herself and disentangled herself from Marty. "NO! YOU BASTARDS!"
The gunman heard her- and pointed his gun right at Elle.
"Elle-!"
Marty leapt up from his hiding place and yanked her behind the trailer right as the gunman began firing again. "Elle, what were you thinking, you could've died-" Marty's voice went up three octaves on the words.
"They shot Doc, Marty! They shot Doc!" She shouted back, tears oozing out of the corners of her eyes. "The Doc's gone, Marty, he's gone!..."
"Oh, come on, Elle, don't cry, don't cry," Marty said, hurriedly wiping away her tears with his thumb. "Come on, now, let's try to get out of here-" They barely made it two steps before, with a screech from the tires, the blue van confronted them again. Elle shut her eyes, ready for the blow-
Click... click... click...
Elle opened her eyes a fraction of an inch. The Libyan was slapping his gun repeatedly, trying in vain to make it shoot. Elle risked a glance at Marty, whose eyes were still shut tight. She yanked his arm and pulled him to the DeLorean, diving through the open door. Marty, disoriented, was stuck with the driver's seat.
"Go, go!" The gunman shouted angrily. Marty pulled the door shut, started the ignition and floored it, the tires skidding across the wet pavement. They swerved dangerously close to the van before Marty yanked the steering wheel in the opposite direction. When he changed gears to make the car run faster, Elle noticed the time circuits switch on...
By this stage the Libyans had reloaded and resumed shooting. Marty drove like a maniac, zigzagging and swerving everywhere to try and confuse them. "Come on, move, damn it!" Elle screeched.
"I'm trying, I'm trying!" Marty retorted, pressing his foot even harder on the pedal. The odometer leapt to 75 miles per hour but dropped again as he drove a hairpin turn around a curb and back into the open space of the vacant parking lot.
Marty checked on the Libyans in the rearview mirror: a man was resurfacing not with a machine gun, but with a huge, military-grade missile. Marty's eyes widened. "Holy shit!"
"What?" Elle demanded.
"Look at that sucker!"
Elle checked her own rearview mirror and almost lost it. "Oh my God!"
"Alright, let's see if those bastards can do ninety," Marty said before switching gears again. The DeLorean accelerated, flattening Elle to her seat. Elle glanced at the odometer and as she watched the needle pass eighty-five Doc's words rang through her mind. "If my calculations are correct, when this baby hits eighty-eight miles an hour, you are going to see some serious shit."
Eighty-eight miles an hour.
Eighty-eight...
"Marty, watch the odometer!" Elle finally blurted frantically.
"What?!"
"Watch the odometer!" Her words were drowned out by the overpowering mechanical hum of the engine. The neon blue sparks were flying out of the hood, the lightning was engulfing them with blue light-
And suddenly they were rolling down a vacant field, accidentally running into a scarecrow in the process. It landed face down on the windshield, smiling eerily at them. They both screamed at the sight, Elle's so high she was sure she would have cracked the windows. Some low hanging tree branches brushed the scarecrow away, but their relief was short-lived when they saw that they were headed straight for a barn. They crashed through the doors, scattering hay and dust into the air.
Elle sat there, too petrified to move. She looked over at Marty, whose mask had fallen over his head in the commotion. He looked at her. "Okay?"
"Okay," she replied. "But what... just... happened."
"I don't know."
"We appear to be in a barn."
"Yes, we do."
"Why is there a barn in the middle of the Twin Pines Mall parking lot?"
"I don't know."
The barn door creaked open and there stood a family of four in their nightgowns, staring at the DeLorean as though they had never seen one before.
"What is it, pa, what is it?" a woman asked her husband fearfully.
"Looks like an airplane with no wings," the husband replied.
"That ain't no airplane, pa!" a little boy responded. "Look!" He handed his father a comic book. The man's gaze cut from the cover to the real thing repeatedly. Oh, great, Elle thought. Now they're gonna think we're aliens.
She had no sooner finished the sentence in her mind before Marty accidentally tripped his door, causing it to open. He stumbled out still wearing his bright yellow suit and mask, and the family's piercing screams ripped through the air. They slammed the barn door shut again and their footsteps faded away back to the house.
"Wait, listen-!" Marty yelled as he tripped over a bale of hay. He flipped his mask on top of his head and propped himself on his elbows. A couple cows mooed from a corner of the barn.
Elle buried her face in her hands. "What am I going to do with that boy?.." she murmured to herself.
Marty carefully opened the barn door and peered out into the night. "Hello?" he called. "Uh, excuse me? I'm sorry about your barn," he said, jerking a thumb to the wooden panels behind him. Suddenly, a brilliant crack was heard and a bullet ripped past him and through the wood. Marty stumbled backwards, surprised by this new development, and fell over the doorframe.
"It's already mutated back into human form, pa! Shoot it, shoot it!" the little boy was screaming.
"Take that, ya mutatin' son of a bitch!" the man screeched. Bam! Bam! Two more holes in the barn.
Marty was scrambling around like a chicken with its head cut off. "Marty! Get your ass in here!" Elle demanded. Marty dove into the driver's seat and slammed his door shut before flooring the gas once more.
They burst through the barn again, leaving the family to scream and dive for cover as the DeLorean rampaged through the farmland. It even ripped down a pine tree in its path, causing the man great distress... although distress may have been a bit of an understatement.
"My pine!" He wailed. "Why, you-!" He was still shooting; Elle caught a glimpse of the name Peabody painted onto the mailbox before the man blew it off with a bullet.
"I remember when this was all farmland as far as the eye could see! Old man Peabody had owned this land. I remember he had a crazy idea about breeding pine trees."
"Alright, alright. Okay, Mcfly, get a grip on yourself. It's all a dream. A very... intense... dream," Marty babbled to himself as they flew down the highway, Elle hanging on for dear life as he sped past miles and miles of trees and farmland. The only thing that stood out from it was a sign for a new subdivision in the distance-
Elle's eyes widened. "Marty, stop the car!"
"What?"
"Stop the goddamned car!"
Marty switched pedals and floored the brakes, bringing them to a screeching halt in front of the colorful sign. "Jesus Christ," Marty said quietly, stepping out into the sun. Elle got out in a daze, entranced by the sight before her.
It was their neighborhood.
But it wasn't their neighborhood. Only the two lions perched on the stone signs that flanked the entrance were there. The rest of the land was still green farmland; Elle could even see the barest hint of mountains in the distance. "Live in the home of tomorrow... today!" the sign proclaimed. "Lyon Estates: ground-breaking this winter." Pictured was a retro-style family standing in front of a house that eerily represented Marty's.
A low engine hum reached their ears. They turned and discovered a scarlet vintage Ford heading for them. It wasn't going very fast, just ambling along the dirt road. Marty walked up to the driver's side. "Listen, you gotta help us-"
An old woman in the passenger seat clutched the driver's arm. "Don't stop, Wilbur, don't stop!" she cried. The car sped off again, blowing dust into their faces. Marty stared after it.
"Marty, d'you- d'you think we've gone back in time?" Elle said, a quaver of fear in her voice .
"God, I hope not..."
"Remember- remember when Doc was showing us how to work it? He programmed it to November 5, 1955. And you were going 88 when the Libyans were chasing us..."
"It can't be," Marty said, plopping back in the DeLorean to check. The time circuits blinked once, and then went out. "This is nuts." He twisted the key in the ignition, planning to drive downtown and find out what was going on, but all he recieved was a quiet, whiny whir from the engine. Marty felt his blood turn to ice as he tried, in vain, to get the engine going again.
"What's wrong?" Elle said, walking over.
"Out of gas," Marty said, hitting the steering wheel angrily.
An annoying beeping noise came on; a light beside the fuel meter was blinking.
"And plutonium," Elle sighed.
"Mr. Saaaandmaan... Mr. Saandmaaaann..." A catchy jingle began playing outside a drugstore. Marty and Elle cautiously edged their way around a corner as though they were storming King George's fortress and not walking into town. A placard stood outside a movie theater advertising for the latest motion picture. Though a sold-out sticker had been slapped across it, Elle could still make out the title: Cattle Queen of Montana, starring Barbara Stanwyck and Ronald Reagan.
Ronald Reagan?
Marty was walking backwards, trying to absorb everything he was seeing. Elle followed, her head twisting and turning at everything that moved. A car honked at them and Elle jumped; she didn't remember walking out onto the street. Furthermore, she didn't know of any car shops that sold brand-new vintage cars.
Four young men in matching uniforms and caps stood to attention at a Texaco gas station. Another one of those vintage cars pulled up and they sprang into action, each one with a specified job: one filled the tires, one checked the engine, one washed the winshield, one pumped the gas... Elle stared, dumbfounded. That kind of service hadn't been available since the late 1950s. Marty gently tugged at her arm and pulled her into the clock tower square, where a few kids were tossing a Frisbee around. A man hoisted the American flag onto a flagpole.
A series of deep, majestic bongs rang out into the misty morning air. Elle swiveled around and faced the clock tower. Instead of the hands being permanently placed on 10:04, as it had always been, the time now read 8:30. Elle glanced at Marty. The clock tower hadn't worked since it had been struck by lightning thirty years ago...
"Remember, fellow citizens, the future is in your hands," a voice boomed. A black car decorated in red, white, and blue banners was driving by, two huge, old-fashioned speakers screwed onto its rooftop. A black-and-white photo of a smiling, balding man was depicted on the doors. "If you believe in progress, re-elect Mayor Red Thomas. Progress is his middle name. Mayor Red Thomas' progress platform means more jobs, better education, bigger civic improvements and lower taxes. On election day, cast your vote for a proven leader."
A man in a grey suit and hat dropped his newspaper in a metal wastebasket. Elle dove for it and flattened out the front page.
Saturday, November 5, 1955.
"Marty!" Elle whacked his arm to get his attention. "Look- look at the date. Right there."
His green eyes threatened to pop out of their sockets. "Holy shit. This has got to be a dream."
Elle skimmed the articles on the page in disbelief. The photos printed showed men dressed in retro suits, women wearing poodle skirts and collared dresses, ads featuring discounts on Ford cars...
"Hey, look." Elle looked up. Marty was pointing at a cafe across the street. Public telephone, a sign read inside. "If this really is 1955, we can call Doc."
"Are you sure he's even alive?" Elle asked, tossing the newspaper into the trash once again. Marty led her across the street.
"Sure he is. Remember, he said he came up with the flux thing in the 50's, so he'd have to be at least twenty or thirty right now. Come on." He pushed open the cafe doors. Elle took in the sight, wanting to remember everything. Our 5 cent coffee 'urns' high praise!' a sign declared. Two boys sat at the bar, carrying on a quiet conversation.A song from the jukebox played softly in the background.
"What'd you do, kid, jump ship?" the man behind the counter barked at Marty.
"What? No."
"Well, what's with the life preserver?" the man gestured to Marty's orange sleeveless jacket. It did kind of look like a life preserver, Elle reasoned with herself.
Marty fingered the edges of his jacket, suddenly self-concious. He felt out of place. Who was he kidding, he was out of place. "We just want to use the phone."
"Yeah, it's in the back."
"Thanks." Marty pulled Elle to the little booth. "You look, I'll dial," Marty said as they crowded inside.
"Okay. Okay." Elle flipped open the phone book to the B's and ran her finger down the page. "Brown, Brown... found him. 5-4385." Marty worked the rotating dial and waited. The man from the counter walked by. A high-pitched beeping emitted from Marty's watch and the man doubled back and looked at them. Marty muffled the sound against the wall and the man walked away again, shaking his head.
Doc never answered, and Marty set the phone down with a crash. Elle quietly tore out Doc's page from the phone book before following Marty back out to the cafe.
"Hey, do you know where 1640 Riverside-" she began to the man, but he cut her off.
"Are you gonna order something, miss?"
Rude, she thought. "Uh, alright. Okay." She sat on the stool in front of him, with Marty to her left. "Give me a, uh, give me a Tab."
"A tab? I can't give you a tab unless you order something," the man chuckled.
Marty held a hand up on the table, signaling to her: Let me do this. "Give me a Pepsi Free," he said with a smug smile.
"You want a Pepsi, pal, you gotta pay for it," the man retorted. Marty's smile slid off and Elle giggled.
"Look, just give us something without any sugar in it, okay?"
"Something without sugar," the man repeated. He bent under the counter and produced two cups of coffee before leaving them. Elle propped her head in her hand; Marty stroked the back of his head, a habit he had when he was under stress. They were unaware, however, that they were copying the postures of two customers right next to them.
"Hey, Mcfly! Phelan!"
Marty and Elle turned around at the sound of their surnames. So did the two boys next to them. A tall, muscular boy stood in the doorway, his blond hair gelled in the distinct 50's style. The top two buttons of his red shirt were unbuttoned, revealing the top portion of this white undershirt.
Marty knew instinctively who it was. So did Elle. The arrogant grin, the beady little eyes.
"Biff," they whispered. Biff, a mutual 'family friend' was notorious for bribing and bossing around their fathers, who both worked under him.
"Hey, Mcfly, Phelan, I'm talking to you, you Irish scum," Biff said, walking right past Marty and Elle and to the two boys. "You guys get our homework finished?" Biff asked, gesturing to his little posse that was tailing him.
"Uh, well, actually, since we figured it wasn't due till Monday-" Mcfly began, but Biff grabbed his head.
"Hello? Hello? Anybody home?" he shouted, knocking on Mcfly's head. "Think, Mcfly, think!"
Though Biff looked angry, Mcfly kept laughing along with his cronies. "Okay, okay," he laughed, clearly wanting to come off as friendly.
"Well, it's true," Phelan piped up. "I mean, it's due Monday, we still have a full day-"
"I got to have time to recopy it," Biff said. "Do you realize what would happen if we turned in our homework in your handwriting? We'll get kicked out of school. You wouldn't want that to happen, would ya?"
Both boys remained silent.
"Would ya?!" Biff said, grabbing both of their collars.
"No, no, of course not, I wouldn't want that to happen..."
"Of course not, Biff..."
Biff noticed that both Marty and Elle were staring, openmouthed. "What are you looking at, buttheads?"
"Hey, get a load of this guy's life preserver," a boy said, grabbing Marty's jacket. "Dork thinks he's gonna drown."
"Look at that girl's pants!" Another said. "Hey, chick, are you wearing your father's pants or what?"
Elle remembered that girls weren't supposed to wear jeans in the 50's. She blushed and looked down at the tiled floor.
Biff returned to the two boys. "So how about our homework?"
"Okay, Biff. We'll finish that tonight and we'll bring it first thing tomorrow morning, okay," Phelan replied, using the same dorky laugh Mcfly had.
"Not too early, I sleep in Sundays. Oh, Phelan, your shoe's untied!" When Phelan looked down Biff smacked his jaw. "Don't be so gullible, Phelan."
"Okay," He laughed again.
"Remember, I don't want to see you buttheads in here again." Biff turned to leave, bringing his cronies with him.
"Okay. Alright. Bye bye," Mcfly said before turning back to his breakfast. Marty and Elle stared at their fathers, wide-eyed. They edged closer and closer to the real thing, each hardly daring to believe it-
Mcfly slammed his spoon down into his bowl, clearly uncomfortable. "What?"
Marty blinked. "You're George Mcfly," he croaked.
"And you- you're Daniel Phelan," Elle said to Phelan.
"Yeah. That's us. Who are you?" Daniel replied. Elle was about to answer before a tall African-American boy stuck his head in the conversation.
"Say, why do you let those boys push you guys around like that for?" he drawled. He was wearing a white shirt, white apron, and a white cap was balanced on his head.
"Well, they're bigger than us," Daniel answered, pulling out his wallet.
"Yeah, if we fight back, they'll hurt us," George agreed.
"Stand tall, boy. Have some respect for yourself. Don't you know, if you let people walk over you now, they'll be walking over you for the rest of your life. Look at me. You think I'm gonna spend the rest of my life in this slop house?"
"Watch it Goldie," the man behind the counter said.
Goldie?
"No sir! I'm gonna make something of myself. I'm going to night school, and one day, I'm gonna be somebody."
"That's right!" Marty blurted out. "He's gonna be mayor!"
Goldie grinned in a dreamy sort of way at Marty, revealing a gold front tooth. "Mayor!" Clearly the idea had never occurred to him. "Now that's a good idea! I could run for mayor!"
"A colored mayor, that'll be the day," the old man said as he walked by, toting a broom.
"You wait and see, Mr. Curuthers, I will be mayor. I'll be the most powerful man in Hill Valley, and I'm gonna clean up this town."
"Good. You can start by sweeping the floor." The man, Mr. Caruthers, handed Goldie the broom. Goldie just stood there and smiled.
"Mayor Goldie Wilson. I like the sound of that." He picked up the empty dishes left by Daniel and George as he walked by. Marty was about to take a sip from his coffee before he realized that the two boys were gone. He slammed down his cup, slopping coffee everywhere. Elle heard little ring-ring from outside; they turned, and there their parents were, cycling away.
Elle threw a couple of nickels down before banging out the door after her father. "Hey, dad! Er, Daniel! You guys on the bikes!" They ran after them.
So there you have it. I added Elle's father because I wanted the story to be different, but not too different. Believe me, the classic's great, but I didn't want to bore you guys with the same storyline. Her father won't be a big player in the story, he'll just appear from time to time just to liven things up a little. So there's that. Thanks for reading! :)