Day 14 - Blood-Stained
A/N: A short examination of Marty's first look at 1985A. Set during Part II.
He never thought he'd be staring down the barrel of his principal's shotgun, yet the universe seemed to continually serve him with unexpected surprises.
Marty panted as he sprinted from Strickland's property, ducking in his head for fear of stray bullets flying past him. He could've sworn his heart washing to leap out of his chest, and all he could hear was the combination of whistling wind and roaring blood coursing through his ears. How the hell did I mess this one up?! Why did everything change?
Most of the street lights were out, leaving this part of the town shrouded in a darkness that made him extremely perturbed. Was there going to be another dude with a shotgun if he tried to ask for help? Could another gang of teenagers with machine guns come screeching past at any moment?
What's happened to Doc?! Is he dead? God, he better still be alive or I'm completely screwed…
He found himself stumbling down a main suburban street somewhere near his home, though he'd been running for so long at this point that he wasn't sure where he is. His eyes quickly adjusted as he realised that this street was slightly more lit up than the others, allowing him to survey his glamorous surroundings. Piles of assorted rubbish and abandoned cars with smashed windows lined the road, with the resulting smell crinkling his nose. But something didn't smell right. It was almost as if the street itself was decaying.
Once he'd caught a glimpse of the puddle of fresh blood he just stepped in, however, he decided he preferred the darkness. His foot slipped, creating a squishing noise that instantly made him nauseous. "Ah, shit!"
He scraped the sole of his shoe on a nearby brick, willing himself not to vomit as he felt his stomach beginning to somersault. Drops of blood flew off in various directions and he prayed vigorously that none had soaked into the fabric of his jeans. My God, this is disgusting. And sad. What the hell happened to Hill Valley?! Looks worse than a war zone!
Marty re-examined the collection of blood, which began as a puddle and trailed off in a scattering of smaller pools. He followed it along the footpath until it disappeared a few metres from a pile of debris. Wonder what happened to the poor dude?
He gazed further up the road and he instantly felt cold.
Two outlines were displayed on the surface of the road, the white chalk appearing glistening in the dim lighting. The ground carried no visible evidence of what had happened, but given how both bodies were spread out with limbs in various directions, Marty determined that it couldn't have been a good outcome.
This explains everything and nothing. If they've been dead long enough to have a damn scribble on the ground, then what happened with the fresh puddle?!
He suddenly felt woozy, sharply pitching to his knees as his stomach finally overpowered him, and released its contents clumsily into the gutter. Bile burned his throat as he coughed and gagged pathetically, spitting in a desperate attempt to rid the acidic taste in his mouth. Glad no one's around to see this part, though.
Once his body stopped involuntarily retching, Marty remained in a kneeling stance as he attempted to regain his breath. Faint sirens and gunshots rang out in the distance, and he had to force his body to leap into a bush as he saw a car at the far end of the street. Through the leaves he watched as the vehicle drove by, releasing a loud sigh once they'd passed.
He'd never been so desperate to go home in his life.
He'd also never felt so far away from home before, despite being a few streets away.
Doc, how the hell are we gonna fix this one?