Marty opened his eyes. The sky above was clear and blue. It looked like it was going to be a beautiful morning. He sat up and stretched. "Man, I slept like a rock," he called out. "What time is it, Doc?"
There was no answer.
"Doc?"
Marty looked around. Doc was nowhere to be seen. And what was worse. Doc's bedroll didn't even look like it had been slept in. Marty stood up. There was no sign of Doc anywhere, and one of the horses was gone. "No," Marty said aloud, "Not again!"
"Marty?" Cherry asked with a yawn. "What's going on?"
"Doc's not at camp, I'm worried something must've happened to him." Marty replied.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa, let's settle down now," Atticus advised. "I'm sure everything is all right, now let's just check the photograph before we assume the worst." he then added as he seemed to know just what Marty was thinking.
"Oh, yeah. Good idea." Marty replied as he soon did just that. He pulled the photograph out of his pocket. No, the picture was the same, or at least it hadn't changed any more, "HERE LIES" and the date of death were still there, with no name in between.
"See? Dr. Brown is still okay..." Thor replied. "At least for the moment."
"But for how long?" Marty wondered. "What if Mad Dog runs into Doc before we find him?"
"I see this is going to be an early morning for us." Cherry said before yawning.
"We better go into town and see Doc otherwise he won't have much of a future." Sabrina suggested.
Doc didn't know how long he'd been talking. He didn't even know, really, why he was talking in the first place. At least, if he talked, he didn't have to think about how he had lost Zelda and mined his life, but it was more talking and less thinking. He looked back and forth at the crowd that had gathered at either end of the bar. "We don't need horses because we have motorized carriages called automobiles." he informed them all as he looked down at his whiskey glass.
But Jeb, one of the old-time locals, scratched at his drooping black mustache as he asked a question. "Well, if everybody's got all these automo-what's its, don't anybody walk or run anymore?"
"Of course we run," Doc answered, deciding he could leave the whiskey for another second. "But for recreation. For fun."
"Run for fun?" Jeb asked incredulously. "Now, where's the fun in that? What's wrong, don't they have women anymore? Or gambling?"
"Or gambling?" Jeb added.
Doc put down the glass. "We have gambling, but it's all in a town called Las Vegas." he then explained.
"Haw!" laughed Zeke, another of the old-timers. "I been to Las Vegas," He scratched at his snow-white beard. "Ain't nothin' there but desert. No water, not even a saloon."
"Next thing you're gonna tell us, is ain't nobody got guns no more neither." interrupted a third fellow named Levi as he pushed up his derby hat.
Doc nodded knowingly. "Oh, we still have guns."
"Thank God there's something civilized about the place!" Jeb exclaimed.
Doc looked back down at his whiskey.
"You know, I ain't heard anybody spin a yam this wild since that Missouri feller come through here a few years back, what was his name?" Chester remarked to the salesman. "Twain? Or was it—Clemens?"
Zeke leaned over the bar. "How many has he had?" he asked the bartender.
"None," Chester replied with a shake of his head. "That's his first one, and he still ain't touched it yet."
Doc looked down at his glass and decided it was time to take a drank.
"Guys, we're gonna run out of time," Cherry said to her friends. "We need to slow down Mad Dog Tannen somehow."
"I might have an idea." Thor spoke up.
"Does it involve creating an extra replica of Hill Valley to fool those idiots?" Cherry asked him.
"Nah, I don't think we have time for that," Thor replied. "I might have something else in mind~" he then added with a smirk.
"Well, then let's hear it," Lionel replied.
Thor nodded and got everyone into a group huddle.
Meanwhile, at a campsite just beyond the outskirts of town, Buford Tannen kicked his sleeping sidekicks awake.
"Let's go," Tannen demanded, pausing a moment to spit. "I got me a runt to kill."
One of his men sat up, rubbed his eyes, and lit a cigar. "It's still early, boss," he mentioned. "What's your hurry?"
Buford grinned as he patted his revolver. "I'm hungry." he drawled.
Even though they were barely awake, all three men knew enough to laugh.
Marty jumped off his horse and ran into the blacksmith shop. "Doc?" he called. "Yo, Doc!"
No one answered back. The bam was empty. Doc had sent the remaining horses to graze in a local fanner's field, just in case he and Marty really didn't come back. The place was totally silent, the blacksmith's fire out, the tools neatly placed back on their hooks and shelves. The place didn't look lived-in anymore, and it certainly didn't look like Doc had been back through here.
Marty walked out of the barn and saw what looked like Doc's horse, tied up in front of the Palace Saloon. Marty trotted quickly down the street. Yep, that was Archimedes all right; Marty would recognize those brown and white markings anywhere. But what would Doc be doing in a saloon? He could hear voices inside as he ran toward the Palace's swinging doors. And one of the voices was Doc's!
Marty walked into the saloon and saw his friend surrounded by a couple of dozen locals, all paying total attention to whatever the inventor was talking about. "Doc!" he then called. "What are you doing?"
Doc looked sadly at his teenage friend. "I've lost her, Marty. Lost her for all time."
"C'mon, Doc," Marty sighed and insisted as they didn't have time for Zelda anymore. "You've gotta come back with us!"
"Where?" Doc asked miserably.
"Back to the future!" The group reminded him as they didn't have time to worry to think about the crowd of people.
"All right," Doc said, resigned to his fate. "Might as well. There's nothing left for me here," He nodded to the old-timers at the bar. "Gentlemen, excuse me, but my friends and I have to catch a train."
The old-timers nearest to Doc all raised their glasses in a salute.
"Here's to you, blacksmith!" The fellow with the derby called.
"And to the future!" added the fellow with the mustache.
"Amen!" The guy with the snow-white beard concluded.
The three drank.
"Amen." Doc replied as he lifted up his shot glass and drank as well.
"Emmett, no!" Chester called as Doc drank, but the whiskey was already gone, swallowed in a single gulp.
Doc smiled and put down his glass. He took a step toward Marty. Somehow, his foot never quite hit the floor. Instead, Doc fell flat on his face.
Marty ran to his side. "Doc, Doc, wake up!" he then knelt down and shook the shoulders of his friend.
Doc grunted, then made another noise that might have been snoring.
Marty looked up and saw a clock behind the bar. "Atticus, what's our time?" he then asked his friend closest to the clock.
"7:45!" Atticus reported nervously.
"How much has he had?" Marty asked the bartender.
"Just that one," Chester replied with a shake of his head. "The man just can't hold his liquor."
Marty stood up. "Coffee!" he ordered. "Black!" he then looked out the window. The street beyond was empty. There was no sign yet of Mad Dog Tannen and his mob. But Marty had a perfect view of the new clock-tower clock, still on its wagon.
"Thor, I hope whatever you had planned to slow down Mad Dog and his goons worked." Cherry said frantically.
"Don't worry, Cherry," Thor smirked. "I'm more than just the Token Idiot of the group. I'm not just a pawn in the game of Life."
The others looked at him, but still tried to tend to Doc.
Meanwhile, Mad Dog and his gang rode down the road to come into the town of Hill Valley only to hear a bell ringing and a board came down to stop them in their tracks all of a sudden.
"Ho!" Mad Dog called out as he and his gang stopped their horses before seeing what had stopped them. "'Le Petomane Thruway'?! Now what will that asshole think of next?" he then searched his pockets only to feel that they were empty. "HAS ANYONE GOT A DIME?!" he then asked his gang.
The others mumbled and clamored that they didn't have 10 cents to pay for the toll road that Thor had made to slow them down.
"Somebody's gotta go back and get a shitload of dimes!" Mad Dog then told his gang.
A couple of his gang members reared up their horses and went back to collect these dimes.
Meanwhile, Lionel and Thor were standing in the distance as Thor had a spyglass out. Eventually, Mad Dog and his gang had their dimes and they began to ride through Hill Valley.
"Well, they're through the tollbooth," Thor told Lionel. "At least that bought us some time, right?"
"Well, yes," said Lionel as he patted Thor on the head. "You did good, Thor."
"Aw, shucks!" Thor beamed. "Tweren't nuthin'."
"I just hope the others are doing alright." Lionel said to himself.
MEANWHILE...
Zelda had had enough. She had come west to start a new life. She wanted to see new things, meet new people, and forget some of those unfortunate events that had happened to her back east. What a fool she had been. It was absurd, really, to think that people would be any different out here; to think that Emmett would be any different from all those other men she had met over the years. It was so absurd that she could almost laugh. Except, if she let any of her emotions out, she would probably start to cry. She hefted her suitcase up onto the train platform and walked quickly to the ticket window. The train agent looked up and nodded pleasantly. "I'd like to buy a ticket for the next train, please." she soon said quickly.
"To where, ma'am?" The ticket agent asked.
"Anywhere," Zelda replied. "As long as it's far away from here."
The agent arched an eyebrow and looked down at his schedule. "Well, the Number 19 to Sacramento should be arriving in about 10 minutes. It leaves at 8:00."
Zelda looked at the clock on the wall behind the ticket agent. It read 7:45. 15 minutes, then, and she could leave Hill Valley and Emmett L. Brown and Jules Veme and square dancing and all the stars in the nighttime sky—she could leave everything behind. "That'll be just fine," she answered in an even voice. 15 minutes, and Hill Valley would be nothing but memories. And maybe, someday, she could forget those as well. Even if it meant leaving behind her teenage niece as well as her sister and the friends their niece had befriended when times got tough before this whole time travel adventure started.
Marty rolled Doc onto his back, then managed to prop him up to a sitting position as the bartender fetched the coffee. The barkeep walked around the end of the bar and handed Marty a steaming mug. Marty put the coffee cup to Doc's lips. Marty tilted the cup slightly. Doc took a sip and made a face as more of the coffee sloshed down his chin. He started to snore all over again.
"Kids, if you want him to sober up fast, you're gonna need something a little stronger than coffee." Chester said over Marty's shoulder.
"Okay, well, you're the expert since you're the barkeep, what should we do?" Cherry asked.
"Yeah, what do you suggest?" Marty added.
Chester grinned and waved a young man over to the bar. "Joey, get me some Tabasco sauce, cayenne pepper, onion, chili peppers, and mustard seed." he then instructed.
The young fellow nodded and ran into the back room as the bartender reached beneath the polished wooden shelf and pulled out a bottle of vinegar and part of an onion. His helper rushed back with an armful of jars and bottles and dumped them on the bar. The bartender whistled tunelessly as he mixed all of it in a beer glass, then glanced up at Marty.
"I don't mean to question your authority, sir, but are you sure about all of this?" Sabrina asked cautiously.
"In a few minutes, he'll be as sober as a priest on Sunday." Chester remarked cheerfully.
"Ugh! 10 minutes and counting!" Cherry said nervously once she saw the clock tick down to 7:47.
"Why do we have to cut these things so damned close?" groaned Mo.
Chester leaned over the bar, handing Marty both the glass, which was now filled with a uniform vile brown liquid, and a clothespin. "Put the clothespin over his nose," he then instructed. "When he opens his mouth, pour it down his gullet. Then stand back."
Marty did as he was told, placing the clothespin over the bridge of Doc's nose, effectively closing off his nasal passages. The sleeping Doc opened his mouth to gulp in the air.
"Welp... down the hatch!" Lionel said, as he poured the contents of the glass into Doc's gullet.
What happened next was quite amazing. In fact, the teenagers couldn't figure out what was more incredible; the strength of Doc's bloodcurdling scream, the amazingly blood-red color of his face, or the speed with which he ran from the bar to dunk his head in the horse trough. Well, no matter which was more surprising, the final effect was quite dramatic. The teenagers and the barkeep both ran out of the bar to find Doc's head totally submerged in water! Marty heard a gulping sound from the trough and realized that Doc must be drinking water. He hoped, when this was all over, that his friend would forgive him for this dramatic cure. Doc stood, took a deep breath, and fell on his face!
"That was just the reflex action," Chester explained. "It'll take a few more minutes for the stuff to clear up his head." he then grabbed Doc's arms while Marty took his legs. Together, they started to drag him back indoors.
Marty glanced over at the courthouse clock. It was 7:49. Marty realized that if they didn't get going soon, there wouldn't be time for anybody to forgive anything. But there were others out this morning who didn't want to forgive anything, ever.
Marshal Strickland urged his horse forward, and his son followed his lead. There were Mad Dog and his boys, just like Strickland had expected, riding in toward Hill Valley. The marshal's horse walked out from behind the cover of the pine trees. His son's mount came out next. Strickland made sure that Buford and his boys could see the shotgun on the marshal's lap. "That's far enough, Tannen," he called out. "I don't want any trouble."
But Tannen only grinned. "Stay out of my way, and there won't be none." he then drawled.
Strickland reached down for his shotgun. "I'm warnin' you—"
Tannen whipped out his pistol and shot the gun out of Strickland's hands. The shotgun flew into the bushes, half a dozen feet away. Strickland stared at Tannen. He had never seen anybody that fast on the draw!
Buford had turned his pistol on the boy. "Drop it, sonny." he ordered.
But Strickland's son still clutched his own shotgun. He looked over to his father, a silent question in his eyes.
"Do it, son." Strickland said, seeing no other choice.
"Yes, Pa." His boy tossed his shotgun onto the ground.
"Now, I'm warnin' you, Marshal," Tannen continued in that same low-key voice. "I'm here on a personal matter. And if you want to live to see your boy grow up, you just ride outta here for a few hours and leave me be!"
The rest of Tannen's gang had drawn their guns now, too. Marshal Strickland saw four pistols, all aimed at his chest. He had no choice. He had to leave. He sighed and turned his horse around to leave. Tannen watched the horse walk away for a moment, then raised his gun and shot the marshal in the back. Strickland fell from his horse.
"I lied, Marshal." Tannen remarked amiably. He waved for his boys to follow him into town. They all knew they had some important killing to do.
The boy jumped from his horse and ran to his fallen father. "Pa!" he called. "Pa!"
But Marshal Strickland could barely hear him. He turned to his son and, with his last breath, whispered: "Remember that word, son: Discipline!"
"I will, Pa." The boy promised. If he had his way, it would be a word that every Strickland would live by, for generations!
"Come on, Doc, snap out of it! WAKE UP! WAKE UP! WAAAAAKE UUUUP!" Cherry cried out as she grabbed the inventor and shook him frantically while slapping his face like in the parody movie "Airplane!".
Drell and Hilda soon came in with their luggage before glancing at the kids curiously.
"Don't ask, okay? Don't ask." Sabrina told her aunt and possible future uncle.
"Alright, then I'll ask this," replied Hilda. "WHAT ARE WE GONNA DO?!"
"I dunno!" Cherry said frantically. "I was hoping you guys would tell us!"
"We don't have all the answers, ya know." Drell replied.
"Funny, I thought you knew everything." Atticus smirked.
"Watch it, Fudo, or I'll send you to Mars." Drell warned.
"Mars the fourth planet or Mars the Roman warrior?" Atticus asked.
"You decide." Drell smirked, playfully dark.
Atticus looked a bit nervous. "He can't be as tough as Lion-O or He-Man, right?" he then added sheepishly.
Drell didn't say anything and just kept his smirk while the other teenagers continued to look nervous and overwhelmed. Between Marty and the bartender, they managed to get Doc back indoors and propped up in a chair. Doc seemed to be more or less awake, but had once again lost, control of all his muscles. Marty looked at the clock over the bar. It ticked from 7:49 to 7:50.
It was time to get serious. Marty slapped his friend across the face. "C'mon, Doc. Get sober!"
Doc's head lolled to the other side. Marty looked up as he heard the hinge creak on the swinging doors.
"Hello, Seamus," Chester greeted. "Didn't expect to see you here this morning."
Marty realized he had been holding his breath. He half expected the next person through that door to be Mad Dog Tannen with his pistol drawn.
"False alarm." Sabrina whispered to Marty once she saw that it was instead, the boy's great-great-grandfather.
Marty grinned at Seamus, and his ancestor smiled back.
"Well, something inside me told me I should be here," Seamus said uncertainly. "As if my future had something to do with it."
But Marty's future was already being planned, outside the Palace Saloon. Buford Tannen and his three men pulled up to the hitching post in front of the saloon. They dismounted and tied up their horses. The streets were deserted, because everyone knew what was due to happen this morning.
Tannen walked down the dusty street until he was opposite the swinging doors of the Palace. "All right, runt!" he yelled. "It's eight o'clock, and I'm calling you out!"
Lionel swore under his breath. "Double-shit!" he groused.
Marty looked up. The saloon was as still as death. The clock read 7:51.
"Just our luck!" Mo whispered. "He's early!"
"What can we do?" asked Hilda.
"One thing's for sure, we can't go out until it's time." replied Cherry.
"It's not 8:00 yet!" Marty yelled toward the door.
"It is by my watch!" Tannen yelled back. "Now, let's settle this thing once and for all, Eastwood—or ain't you got the gumption?"
Marty took a breath. Now that the time had come for the showdown, Marty realized he didn't want to shoot anyone—even Buford "Mad Dog" Tannen. But how did he get out of this? And what happened if he couldn't? Marty reached in his pocket. He had to sneak a peak at the photograph. The photo had changed again, 'Here Lies' was still there, along with the date of death—today's date. But there was a name now between the two, the letters faint, as if washed away by the rain and winds of time. Marty started to squint, but the letters seemed to grow clearer with every passing second, until he could read them easily: CLINT EASTWOOD. Marty stuffed the photo back in his pocket and looked up to see Seamus McFly staring at him. Seamus, the same man who had told Marty he could have walked away from this fight, had come back here again. Seamus had said something about feeling like he had to be here, like the future depended on it.
Marty decided it was worth a try. "Hey, listen!" he called out the door. "The truth is, I, uh, I don't really feel up to this, so I forfeit."
"Forfeit?" Tannen blurted to his men outside. "What's that mean?"
"Means you win without a fight." One of his men answered him.
"Without shootin'?" Buford sputtered, surprised. "He can't do that! You know what I think?" he then called in to Marty. "I think you ain't nothin' but a gutless, yellow turd."
Buford's boys laughed at that one.
"And I'm givin' you to the count of ten to come out here and prove I'm wrong!... One!" Tannen began.
"We still need more time!" Sabrina cried out.
Somehow, Marty and Doc had to get out of here, but Doc was still in his stupor. Marty slapped him again. "C'mon, Doc!" he pleaded. "Sober up! Please!"
"Two!" came the voice from outside.
Marty felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked up to see one of the old-timers.
"Get out there, son," The old fellow with the derby advised. "I got $20 gold bet on you, so don't let me down."
Three!" Tannen yelled.
The old-timer with the white beard shuffled over to stand next to the first. "I got me $30 gold bet agin' you, so don't let me down, neither."
"Where are Lionel and Thor?!" Cherry yelped.
"What're they gonna do?" Mo asked.
"I dunno, but I thought maybe Lionel could do some kinda distraction with his impressions or something." Cherry shrugged.
"They probably wouldn't understand what he's doing, so I guess it would confuse them for a while." responded Mo.
"I don't care!" Cherry replied. "Lionel, wherever you are, please come on by!"
Grace seemed to overhear from outside that before she ran off suddenly while Mad Dog and his gang got ready to go against Marty.
"Wait, $30?" Marty blinked. "People are betting against us?"
"Four!" Mad Dog called from outside.
Lionel and Thor continued to stand on a hill before they came back over to Hill Valley together.
"Which one of you is Lionel again?" Grace asked while panting heavily.
Lionel then pointed at himself while Thor pointed at him in response.
"Cherry needs your help," Grace explained to Lionel. "I got here as fast as I could."
"Oh-kay!" Lionel said as he made himself a cowboy hat and climbed onto Grace's back. "Let's go lend a hand!"
"Should I come too?" Thor asked.
"I don't know if you'll be needed, but you better come along just to be safe." Grace replied.
"All right, I'll hoof it." Thor nodded.
"Funny, I've been doing that my whole life." Grace giggled as she held up one of her hooves before they headed back over to Marty and the rest of their group while Thor walked alongside them.
The third old-timer, the one with the black mustache, joined the first two. "You might as well face it, son," he said sagely. "'Cuz if you don't go out there—"
"Five!" Tannen's voice interrupted.
Marty had had just about enough of this. "What?" he called up to the old-timers. "What happens if I don't go out there?"
By now, the rest of the crowd had moved forward to gather behind the old cowboys. They were the ones that answered Marty.
Six!" Mad Dog interjected.
"And you'll be branded a coward for the rest of your days!" A fellow who didn't seem to have any teeth whistled.
"Everyone everywhere will say that Clint Eastwood is the biggest yellow belly in the West!" The oldster with the derby concluded.
"So, here—" The guy with an eyepatch pulled out his pistol and put it on the table in front of Marty.
Buford was about to say the next number before he looked over at his gang, looking genuinely confused for a moment. One of the gang members then held up five fingers with one hand and two fingers with the other hand.
"Seven!" Buford then continued to count as Lionel, Thor, and Grace made it back into town.
Marty looked down at the gun, then up at the faces of all the men watching him. The way they were staring, it was apparent they didn't like cowards.
"I've already got a gun," Marty explained.
"Then let's see you use it!" somebody else yelled.
"Eight!"
Marty looked down at the Colt strapped to his belt. He thought of the photo of the tombstone. They all wanted him to go out there and die like a man.
"Nine!"
Marty's gaze wandered to the edge of the group and saw Seamus McFly. No, everyone didn't want him to go out there. Seamus wanted Marty to make his own decision. And Seamus had told him that a real man didn't always go out and blindly fight. A real man was somebody who could make real decisions about what was best for him.
"10!" Tannen yelled.
Marty had made up his mind. He stood and looked at the other men in the saloon. "Hey," he said forcefully, "This is ridiculous! I don't care what Tannen says! He's an IDIOT! And I don't care what anybody else says either!" He looked over to Seamus. His great-great-grandfather smiled, nodding his approval.
Doc sat up, blinking rapidly.
Marty turned back to his friend. "Doc! Are you all right?"
The inventor looked around, trying to get his bearings. "I think so," he said after a moment's pause. "Whew!" He rubbed his head. "What a headache! I confess, the one thing I really miss here is Tylenol."
Marty let out a long breath. Now that Doc was all right, they could get away from this place and back to the DeLorean. "Bartender," he asked, "is there another way out of here?"
"Yeah, you got a back door or something?" Atticus added.
Chester pointed to a door at the far end of the bar. "Through the back."
Marty leaned over and helped Doc to his feet.
"Do you hear me?" Buford Tannen screamed outside. "I said that's 10, you gutless yellow turd!"
The others in the saloon shook their heads and started to talk among themselves.
"Tannen's right," the old fellow with the derby muttered. "The runt's yellow."
He's got about as much guts as a snake has hips." The white-bearded oldster added.
"The most sickening display of cowardice I have ever seen." The senior with the mustache agreed.
Seamus stepped forward. "Is that so? Well, I say there's a difference between being a coward and being a fool. No, sir, I'd say that young fella's got a noggin full of horse sense, he does," He grinned at Marty again. "Good luck to ye and yer friends, Mr. Eastwood."
"What a relief, and no one had to get hurt in the process." Sabrina said with a small smile.
"No one yet." responded Mo.
Marty waved back as he helped Doc through the door. "Good luck to you, too!"
Doc shook off Marty's helping hand as they walked down the short back hall toward a second door. Marty opened the door and saw they were in an alleyway on the side of the saloon.
"What's the plan now, kids?" Hilda asked.
"Well, maybe if we can move fast enough and grab our horses, maybe the element of surprise would give us a chance to get away." Cherry suggested.
"I think I like that idea." Marty said as he started running.
So did Doc, but the inventor wasn't quite as sure on his feet as he had thought. He stumbled, falling with a crash into a pile of cans and wooden boxes.
One of Tannen's men ran around the comer and saw both Doc and Marty. "Hey!" the gunman yelled.
A bullet whistled past Marty's ear.
"It's not over yet!" Hilda yelped in concern.
"Aw, shoot!" Cherry complained.
"Was that a pun?" Maggie deadpanned to her.
"Not intentionally." Cherry replied.
Marty and the others ran across the street, diving into the open door of a cabinet shop and right into a cast-iron, potbellied stove. Marty's left shoulder rammed the door, knocking it from its hinges. It clanged as it hit the floor and Marty rubbed his shoulder as that hurt. There would be a real bruise there, but nothing was broken. He was lucky he didn't hit the stove with his head. He would have passed out and had another one of those Clint Eastwood dreams.
"Is everyone here?" Mrs. Calloway asked the group, sounding maternal.
"I think so, Mrs. C," Thor replied before he looked around. "Where's Cherry?" he then wondered.
"I thought she was with you all." Doc replied.
"I thought she was with you?" Hilda asked Sabrina.
"Uh-oh." Sabrina frowned as this sounded bad so far.
"Listen up, Eastwood!" Tannen yelled from somewhere outside. "I aim to shoot somebody today. I'd prefer it be you, but if you're just too damn yellow, then it'll have to be your plucky little lady friend here."
"Oh, no!" Marty gasped as he crept over to the window and cautiously peeked above the sill along with everyone else in the group.
There, in the middle of the street, were two of Tannen's gunmen, holding on to Cherry, and Mad Dog Tannen, pointing a pistol straight at the perky goth's ear.
"Guys!" Cherry yelled when she saw her friends. "Forget about me and save yourselves!"
"Are you nuts?!" Atticus yelled. "No way!"
"HEY, MAD DOG!" shouted Lionel, riding atop Grace's back.
"WHAT?!" Mad Dog glared as he looked over his shoulder suddenly.
"My hero." Cherry greeted Lionel dryly, but that was just how she usually talked to people no matter what.
"You're in a lot of trouble now." Grace glared at Buford and his gang.
"Ah'm here ta put'chu down." Lionel glowered as he stepped off of Grace and strode towards Mad Dog.
"Get lost, move it!" Mad Dog glared. "You think I'm joking?! Come on! Move it!
"Come on, now. Party's over." One of Tannen's goons added.
"Are you sure about him helping you out?" Grace asked Cherry.
"He should be able to buy us some time anyway," Cherry replied. "Lionel has very unique talents."
"Let the girl go," ordered Lionel. "And if you have even some balls, you'll face me yourself. Unless you're yella."
"What?!" Mad Dog snapped.
"Where I come from, we have a saying: the weakest dogs bark the loudest," responded Lionel. "And from what I can tell, you're barking mighty loud, Mad Chihuahua."
"This don't involve you anyway," Mad Dog glared at Lionel. "I want my money."
"Oh, why didn't you just say so in the first place?" Lionel replied before he spun around in a tornado briefly and suddenly had a visor over his head and sat at a table with a calculator and began to act like an accountant much to the confusion of Mad Dog and his gang. "Okay. You've got 17.5% in T-bills amortized over the fiscal year, 8% in stocks and bonds. Carry the nine, divide by the gross national product. Fortunately, funeral bouquets are deductible." he then said after speaking in a fast-talking voice.
"Ice this deadbeat!" Mad Dog told his gang right away.
The gang members soon tried to shoot Lionel, but he kept avoiding and dodging the bullets, almost stretching himself like rubber in the process and even moving his legs out of the way.
"SHOOT HIM!" Mad Dog barked louder than usual.
More bullets fired and soon Lionel warped into a matador with a red cape. "Toro!" he then yelled out while making the bullets run through the cape. He then ducked down and kicked his legs, acting like a Russian dancer as the bullets aimed at his head. "Thank you very much," he then said in an Elvis Presley voice as he transformed again and then turned back into his cowboy outfit as a bullet seemed to land on him. "Ya got me, partner." he then drawled in his Western accent.
Mad Dog grinned once that looked like the end of Lionel and the others looked worried, but Cherry seemed unfazed.
"Hold me close, Red. I... it's gettin' dark," Lionel coughed as he began to say some last words and came into Mad Dog's hold while Cherry stepped out of the way. "Tell Aunty Em to let Old Yeller out. *coff!* Tell Tiny Tim I won't be coming home this Christmas. *coff coff!* Tell Scarlet I do give a damn. Pardon me." he then flailed and dropped into Mad Dog's arms.
The goons began to look sad all of a sudden almost like they felt guilty for killing Lionel. Cherry smirked as she soon came over to Lionel to give him an award known as an Oscar.
"Thank you! You love me," Lionel beamed as a random audience appeared to cheer him on. "You really love me!"
"Did you know that was gonna happen?" Grace asked Cherry.
"Something like that, yeah," Cherry replied. "Lionel has a very unique talent of distracting and entertaining people."
"What th' HELL was that?!" asked Mad Dog.
"I dunno," said one of his cronies. "It was pretty impressive. Bummer we gots ta kill 'im, though."
However, when they looked for Cherry and Lionel, the two were suddenly gone.
"WE FELL FOR A DIVERSION!" Buford yelled.
Cherry cupped her mouth with her hand as she began to chuckle quietly at Mad Dog's frustration.
"So, what're we gonna do?" Atticus asked. "Fight back or go home?"
"You got one minute to fight back, Eastwood!" Tannen yelled outside. "No more of your meddling friends or a bunch of lame dairy cows neither!"
Maggie, Mrs. Calloway, and Grace glared at him for that. Marty could hear the train whistle in the distance; the train that would have taken Doc, Hilda, Drell, and the young time travelers back to the future, and now a train that one or maybe both of them would never see.
The train arrived right on schedule—and not a moment too soon for Zelda. As soon as a pair of passengers had disembarked, she climbed aboard and walked down the car until she found a seat. A pair of men in loud, checked suits sat across from her—some of those salesmen that were always passing through Hill Valley. One of them was telling a long-winded story about some fellow he'd had some drinks with—apparently all night long. Clara turned away from them and looked out the window, hoping that would be enough to discourage either of the gentlemen from including her in the conversation. The way she felt right now, she didn't want to talk to anyone.
"All aboaarrrrdddddd!" The conductor yelled at the end of the car.
The train lurched forward, then slowly picked up speed as it pulled away from the Hill Valley station.
The fellow across from her was talking very loudly, as if everything he said was part of his salesman's spiel. "Yessir, that poor feller last night had the worst case of broken heart I have ever seen," he chattered on. "And when he said he didn't know how he'd get through the rest of his life, knowing how much he'd hurt his poor Clara, that really got me, right here." He nodded sadly. "I don't believe I've ever seen a man so tom up over a woman."
Zelda turned and looked at the salesman as she had a sinking feeling in her heart. "Excuse me, but was this man tall, with big brown puppy-dog eyes and beautiful silvery flowing hair?" she then asked politely.
The salesman nodded enthusiastically. "You know him?"
Zelda nodded in return. "I'm Clara..." she then started to say her Wild West alias.
The salesman raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Well, Clara, if you have any feelings toward him whatsoever, go find him," he said with sincerity only a salesman could muster. "I've never seen a man more tore up or in love than he was, and love like that doesn't happen too often. Whatever happened between you two, I'd give him a second chance."
Zelda stared at the salesman for a second. She realized he was right. She stood and pulled the emergency cord. "Emmett!" she whispered.
Iron wheels screamed as the train jerked to a stop. Zelda hurried down the aisle, ignoring the shouts of passengers and the questions of the conductors. She quickly descended the steps and began the walk back into town. Maybe, she thought, it had been her own stubborn pride that made her want to run away from Doc and especially tell the kids that she wasn't going back to 1985 with them. Well, she was a stubborn witch—more than one man had told her so. Only this time, she was going to use that stubbornness to find and keep the man she loved!
Marty heard Tannen's voice, calling from out in the street: "All right, runt, time's up!"
Marty looked out the window. He guessed he was as ready as he would ever be. The two gunslingers still held Doc, but Tannen was staring in toward the shop where Marty stood. And there was another change, too. In the minute Marty had taken to get ready for their confrontation, all the doors and windows on the other side of the street had filled with onlookers—the citizens of Hill Valley were going to get their show after all. Marty checked out his outfit in the mirror at the back of the store. It was all in place—the hat, the sarape, the gunbelt—just like Clint Eastwood in A Fistful of Dollars. Now, all he had to do was act like Clint Eastwood.
"I've got a bullet here for you, Eastwood!" Buford screamed. "Aimed right for your heart!"
That was just what Marty wanted. He stepped out onto the street. "I'm right here, Tannen."
Mad Dog Tannen grinned. "Draw!" he demanded.
Instead, Marty unbuckled his gunbelt and let it fall to the ground. "No," he said, slowly and confidently, "I thought we could settle this thing like men."
Tannen's grin got even wider. "You thought wrong, dude." He drew his pistol and fired.
Marty fell to the ground. Buford Tannen laughed and sauntered over to his fallen foe. Marty opened his eyes and kicked the gun from Tannen's hand! Tannen's jaw dropped as the gun went flying across the street. Marty jumped to his feet. Maggie snarled as she looked ready to storm toward Tannen.
"Hold it! Hold it!" Thor said as he held back the most abrasive of the dairy cow trio.
"Yes, I believe that Mr. Eastwood has to do this on his own, Margaret." Mrs. Calloway advised.
"I just hope he knows what he's doing." Grace said to herself.
Tannen rushed him, aiming a fist straight for his gut. He howled in pain as his knuckles smashed against something solid. Marty threw back his sarape to reveal the cast-iron door he had taken off the potbellied stove. Now that it had served its purpose, he could unstrap this thing from his chest.
"Bulletproof vest," Cherry smirked and nodded. "Good one, Marty."
"It's broke!" Buford wailed, holding up his nerveless hand for all to see. "My gun hand's broke, dammit!" He looked up at Marty and growled, grabbing for the teenager with the hand he had left.
Marty grabbed the stove door and smashed it on top of Tannen's head. The blow sent Buford reeling sideways. Marty threw the door down. The rest of this fight was going to be settled with fists. Mad Dog Tannen shook his head and blinked, then rushed Marty one more time only to be stopped.
"HEE-YAH!" Maggie yelled out as she bucked Mad Dog in the side with her back legs, sending him right into Hilda's path.
Hilda then also socked him square in the face. "That's for touching and not looking at my last show, you varmint!" she then snapped at him.
"That's my girl." Drell smirked as he wrapped his arm around Hilda proudly.
Buford Tannen fell into the tombstone; the same tombstone in the photo, breaking the stone in half! Somehow, he got to his feet again, but he couldn't really stand anymore. Instead, he stumbled backward, into a cart Marty had seen when he'd first come to town; a cart filled with damp, fragrant manure! Buford passed out, covered in brown.
"I think you oughta know..." said Lionel. "...YOU SURE DO STINK!"
Marty turned to study the three members of Tannen's gang. The three outlaws exchanged a look, and then, without a word, let go of Doc and started to run. They were followed quickly by three sheriff's deputies.
"Hah!" Sabrina giggled. "Look at 'em go!"
Marty walked over to his friend. "You okay. Doc?"
"I'm fine, Marty." Doc brushed his coat where the gunmen had held him.
A young boy, maybe seven or eight, ran across the street to get a better look. "Wow!" the boy shouted excitedly. "Armor! How'd you think of that, mister?"
Marty shrugged. "I saw it in a Clint Eastwood movie."
The boy frowned. "Movie? What's a movie?"
Oh, that was right. In the thrill of victory, Marty had forgotten where he was. Still, as he recalled from his high school film history course, movies should be showing up pretty soon. "You'll find out." he told the boy with a smile.
The other townspeople started to gather around as well. One of them shooed the boy away: "Move along, D.W., move along."
Another fellow, wearing what looked like a barber's smock, shook his head. "That little Griffith boy, can't hold him down."
Marty frowned, remembering his film history course all over again with the coincidental names before shaking them off. All thoughts of history left his head as he saw another of the local deputies move quickly over to the semiconscious outlaw.
The deputy drew his gun. "Buford Tannen, you're under arrest for the murder of Marshal James Strickland."
Tannen raised his hands and tried to stand.
"I guess there's a Tannen, Strickland, and McFly in every century." Cherry muttered to herself.
"I'd ask about my ancestors, but Aunt Hilda and Aunt Zelda were probably old ladies during Camelot." Sabrina remarked.
"Watch it, young lady!" Hilda tutted her niece. "Zelda and I were teenage interns for Merlin until he found Arthur." she then clarified.
"Yeah, and I was stuck with that crazy old bat, Madam Mim," Drell rolled his eyes. "Don't get me started on her."
In the distance, the train whistle blew.
"Guys, that's probably our cue," Cherry suddenly said. "That train is about to leave the station."
"She's right. Can we make it?" Marty asked.
Doc considered the question for a second before nodding. "We'll have to cut 'em off at Coyote Pass!"
Doc grabbed his horse and untied a second one for Marty; the second animal looked an awful lot like the one Buford rode. They both mounted up.
"Cut 'em off at Coyote Pass? I hate that cliché!" Thor ranted in an almost Great Gazoo voice.
There, in the middle of the crowd, Marty saw Seamus McFly. Marty picked up his gunbelt and waved at his great-great-grandfather. "Seamus! Here!" He threw the belt over to the fanner. "Trade it in on a new hat!"
"Thank you, Mr. Eastwood!" Seamus replied as he deftly caught the gift.
Marty looked over his shoulder as he turned his horse to go. "And take care of that baby!"
Doc and Marty took off at a full gallop.
"I will!" Seamus promised his descendant as Doc and Marty got away on their horses.
"Great for them, but how do we get there?" Mo wondered.
"Would you guys like a ride?" Maggie offered. "We might not be horses, but we're as strong and determined as some and we're not full of ourselves like some of them."
"Bad experience?" Sabrina asked.
"Let's just say I never want to meet another horse named Buck for a very long time." Mrs. Calloway rolled her eyes in response as that seemed to answer and have a confirmed answer for Sabrina's question.
"Besides, the three of us can hold you all and we can catch up to the horses in enough time to spare." Grace added kindly.
"Then, LET'S GO!" Lionel exclaimed.
"Come on, Drell and Hilda." Atticus suggested.
"You kids go on ahead," Hilda replied. "We have a feeling we should say one last goodbye to this era."
"Yeah, you go on, don't worry about us." Drell added.
And so, the group went after Doc and Marty: Cherry and Lionel on Maggie, Atticus and Mo on Mrs. Calloway, and Sabrina and Thor on Grace.
"They rode some blazing saddles, they wore some shining stars~" Grace began to sing. "Their job to offer battle to bad men near and far~"
"Any way we can stop her?" Mrs. Calloway wondered.
"Let her have this moment." Maggie rolled her eyes in response.
"They conquered fear and they conquered hate, They turned our night into day, They made their blazing saddles a torch to light the way~" Grace continued to sing. "When outlaws rule the West, And fear filled the land, A cry went up for a group with guts, To take the West in hand, They needed a bunch who were brave and true, With justice for all as their aim, Then out of the sun rode a group with some guns and The Terrific Wester Group were their names, yes, The Terrific Waster Group were their names~"
"I kinda like that." Lionel remarked.
"I think I do too." Cherry nodded.
"They rode some blazing saddles, they wore some shining stars~" Grace continued to sing her song on the way to the train station. "Their job, to offer battle to bad men near and far, They conquered fear and they conquered hate, They turned our night into day, They made his blazing saddles, A torch to light the waaaaay~" she then finally concluded her song as they continued to ride just out of Hill Valley.
MEANWHILE...
Zelda had made it to town at last! There was a crowd in front of the Palace Saloon. Zelda ran toward them as she saw a pair of deputies lead a very dirty and disoriented Buford Tannen across the street toward the jailhouse. It looked like something serious had happened here. She also had seen a pair of riders gallop around the comer as she approached. They were too far away for Zelda to tell for sure, but one of them looked as if he had a long mane of silver hair. "Emmett?" she called. But there was no reply. She ran down the street to the blacksmith shop and flung open the doors, her momentum carrying her halfway into the bam. "Emmett!" she called again. "Emmett!"
The shop appeared to be empty. Even the horses were gone. Not even the friendly dairy cows that the teenagers had befriended were there.
"Zelly? Zelly!" A familiar voice called out.
"Hilda?" Zelda asked before she turned her head and her eyes widened. "Oh, Hilda!"
"Zelly." Hilda said as she ran up to her sister and the two witch women embraced each other warmly before she looked back at her elder sister in concern.
"Where are Dr. Brown, Marty McFly, Sabrina, and her friends?" Zelda asked her younger sister.
"That's why we stayed behind here and would catch up with them later," Drell explained. "They've already gone and they're about to go back to the future and we're going after them."
"Then I say we'd better get a move on." said Zelda.
"We were hoping you would say that," Hilda nodded. "That's why we waited for you."
"Are you sure you wanna stay here instead of the 20th century where we all belong?" Drell added.
"Yes, I feel like I belong here more than 1985," Zelda admitted with a nod. "And I know it's wrong to be in love with a mortal, but Emmett Brown is unlike any other man I've ever met in my life and I'd give up my magic in the name of science if I had to." she then vowed strongly.
"Let's not go that far," Hilda responded. "We'd just better catch up with him first!"
"Come on then, let's go!" Zelda replied.
"Move, ladies!" Drell urged.
Hilda and Zelda then ran ahead as Drell followed after them as fast as he could.