Marty McFly slid open his window and tumbled clumsily through it to his bedroom floor, the window slamming shut behind him with a dull thump. He hoped his mother hadn't heard him. If only his damn window would stay open, he wouldn't have so much trouble sneaking in at the dead of night without waking his parents. Marty sat up and, leaning against his bed, listened in the pitch blackness for any noise. Just outside his door Marty could hear faint footsteps tramping toward his room. Panicked, the teenager instinctively rolled onto his bed and pulled his sheet up to his chin, clenching his eyes shut and pretending to snore lightly. Marty's door was opened and a half-shadowed figure stepped into his room and up to the side of Marty's bed.

"You really think mom'd fall for that?" the voice of Marty's older brother, Dave, asked.

Marty opened one eye and looked up at Dave, a crooked smile on his face. "It's worth a shot."

"Lucky for you mom and dad went to bed early," Dave sat on the edge of Marty's bed. "You know mom'd freak if she saw you come home at 12:30 at night."

"Mom freaks at everything," Marty sat up in bed.

"Oh yeah?" Dave wrapped his arm around Marty's neck and pulled him closer. "She let you go to the lake with Jennifer last weekend. She doesn't even make you call when you're late. I've seen moms who're ten times worse!"

"Yeah, me too," Marty agreed, recollecting his new life.

"When're you gonna grow up?" Now Dave dug his fist into Marty's scalp and moved it back and forth rapidly. "Dad's been trying to get you to get out and get a job for weeks!"

Marty pulled his head from Dave's arm. "Come on, Dave! You think Chuck Berry ever had to work?"

"Yeah," Dave returned, "he probably did. Besides, I don't see you putting out any hit records."

"Yet!" Marty emphasized. "I'm still waiting for that record company to get back to me."

Dave laughed at this and, a little agitated by the response, Marty shoved his brother. "You really instill me with a lot of confidence!"

"I'm sorry, but don't you think it's a little unrealistic?" Dave asked. "What're the chances of a kid like you getting a record deal?"
Dave stood. "You're going to have to get a real job someday. Even if you do eventually become a famous rock star, it won't be for a while and you'll need some sort of income to live by until then. Don't expect it all to happen in one day, Marty."

"I'll keep that in mind," Marty tossed his pillow at Dave as he left. "Now will you go? I have school tomorrow."

"Yeah, all right," his brother closed Marty's bedroom door behind him.

Dave didn't know what he was talking about! His dad was a published author all because he gained some much needed confidence in himself. So what was wrong with Marty having some faith in his abilities? That's how his dad had become so successful and, if Marty really wanted his dream to become reality, he was going to have to believe in himself.

Brriiing! The ringing of Marty's telephone snapped the teenager out of his thoughts. Who would be calling this late? Marty reached his hand across his mattress to the table next to his bed and groped around for his phone's receiver. He found it and pulled the receiver up to his ear. "Hello?"

"Marty, is that you?" a gruff and worried voice came over the line.

"Uh, yeah," Marty said slowly.

"Thank God you're there. I need you to meet me at my lab," the voice said quickly.

"Hey, hold on second. Is that you, Doc?" Marty said into the phone, sitting up on the edge of his bed.

"Of course," Doc said simply.

Marty was speechless for a moment. The scientist had disappeared a little less than a week ago. Now he was calling Marty on the phone in the middle of the night, acting as if it was the most reasonable thing in the world. Finally, the teenager spoke: "Well, what are you doing here, Doc? I mean, I thought you were living in the past."

"I was," the scientist replied. Before Marty could voice another question, Doc quickly added: "Don't worry, Marty, I'll explain everything,. Can you meet me at my lab?"

Marty glanced at the digital clock on his bed-stand. "Uh, sure," he said, though his body was begging for some rest before school that morning.

"Great! Oh, Marty, you'd better bring your truck. You can park it at my place while we're gone," Doc said.

"Gone? Gone where?"

But all Marty heard was an abrupt click! as Doc hung up on the other line. This was heavy. What the hell was Doc doing back in 1985? He had sounded somewhat distressed over the phone, but Doc always spoke with such fervor. Marty climbed out of bed and managed to sneak out his incommodious bedroom window without making too much noise.

The teenager went around to the street where his truck was parked, as it was Linda's week to house her car in the garage. Marty climbed into his black truck and started the engine. He hoped his parents would sleep through the noise. He realized that the Toyota wasn't exactly preferred for stealthy maneuvers.

Marty drove to Doc's lab which was really an old detached garage (which no longer had a home to be detached from) Doc had resided in for as long as the teenager had known him. It was less than ten minutes away by truck and was en route with Marty's high school. Marty pulled into Doc's driveway and, as he climbed out of the driver's side door, Doc himself appeared from the garage's side-door. He looked the same as the last time Marty had seen him less than a week ago: long, white hair, broad face and a wild expression. The clothes he wore were strange, but not unfamiliar, as if they'd come from a different planet: a white shirt with a japanese symbol on it and long, tan pants that looked like they were made of velcro. Doc gestured for Marty to enter and the scientist disappeared back into the building. Marty jogged up to the door and peered in.

"Marty, come in!" Doc looked over his shoulder at Marty as he crouched on the floor collecting some materials.

"Doc?"

"Hurry!" Doc commanded and Marty stepped inside at the scientist's insistence.

The garage was as Marty remembered it. Nothing seemed to have been altered. On the front wall was the bookcase Marty had knocked over a few days earlier, still toppled over on the ground, the junk formerly on the shelves spilled out on the floor, and opposite it was the completely destroyed speaker system. Marty gestured to the amplifier and finally managed to spit out: "Sorry about the speaker, Doc."

Doc shook his head, his white hair bouncing from side to side. "Don't worry about it."

"It's, uh, it's good to see you again," the teenager said.

"Likewise," the scientist slowly stood, his arms grasping desperately to all of the items he had picked up off the floor. "Please forgive the informalities, Marty. We really don't have time to converse."

"Yeah, okay," Marty nodded. "So what's up? I thought you went back to the old west with your new family. What happened?"

"Family?" Doc's brow lowered. "You mean Clara?"

"Yeah," Marty said and began walking toward the scientist. "And your kids."

"Kids?" He shuffled over to his work table and dumped everything onto it. Then Doc put his hand to his forehead as if trying to remember something and said: "I don't have any kids."

"What do you mean, Doc?" Marty asked.

Doc paused a moment to think. "Where'd you get that idea?"

"I don't know." Marty lifted his arms from his sides and said sarcastically: "Maybe when you dropped by last week and introduced me and Jen to your family. You know your sons, Jules and Verne?"

"Great Scott!" As Doc walked past Marty his legs buckled and it looked as if he was about to topple to the floor, but immediately Doc became erect again and continued walking as if it had never happened. "That event hasn't happened yet, at least not from my perspective! Clara and I were just married less than three years ago!"

Then, as an afterthought, Doc said: "Kids? How could I be so careless? We can't have children!"

"Hey, listen, Doc, it's no big deal!" Marty put his hand on Doc's shoulder. "So you've got kids. What's the harm?"

"Myself alone living in a time period I don't belong is bad enough, not to mention Clara shouldn't even be alive!" Doc shook his head feverishly. "But bearing children by two people who don't belong is ten times worse! The repercussions could be catastrophic! When did I visit you?"

"Like a couple hours after I got back to the future," Marty decided, reviewing the events of that Sunday in his mind.

"I'll have to remember to do that," Doc decided. "Guess I would have anyway."

Marty stumbled through the mess in the scientist's garage. He smiled down at Doc's dog, Einstein, who rested in his bed. The food bowl next to him was empty. Marty had done as Doc had told him and fed the dog during the scientist's week absence. It just occurred to the teenager that it didn't make much sense for the dog to have been there all week, considering he had seen the pet at Doc's side just before the scientist returned to the past.

"Well, if you hadn't come I definitely would have been worried, Doc," Marty added as he approached the scientist's side. "I mean, I'm glad you're happy with Clara and everything ... By the way, where is Clara?"

"That's why I came here," Doc explained. "I guess you know a little bit more than I expected you to. Since you know about the train I won't go further into detail about it."

"Yeah, well, Doc, I thought you wanted the DeLorean destroyed," Marty said. "How come you went and built another time machine."

"I was worried!" Doc expressed. "Clara and I didn't belong in that time and I thought it best that we leave as soon as possible. Clara didn't object at all to moving to the future either. Luckily I had the hoverboard with me which had enough futuristic components in it so that I was able get around the inferior technology of the late 1800's."

"Jeez, Doc, I was wondering how you pulled that off!" Marty smiled weekly at the revelation.

"Unfortunately it took me longer than I expected to get a working construct of the time vehicle," Doc continued. "I had to work around the 88 miles per hour accelerator: I had to find some way to get the train up to that speed without blowing its cylinder diagonal compound engine. And luckily I had some extra plutonium pellets which I had taken out of the car before I buried it a couple of years ago."

"So you guys are moving back to the future? That's great!" Marty exclaimed.

"Well, not yet," Doc said. "I had to take the time machine out on a test run and Clara insisted on going with me. Bless her, she was afraid I'd get stuck somewhere and we may never see each other again. I had to agree to that logic and we settled on the year 2020. That way, if something did go wrong, I would have the necessary equipment to repair the train. And Clara was hoping for a second honeymoon."

"Doc, you sly dog!" Marty poked the scientist in the side with his elbow, roguishly.

"Yes, well," Doc's face remained serious, though his cheeks flushed. He cleared his throat and continued: "As you can tell, the experiment was a complete success! We made it to the future with no trouble at all. We decided to spend a week or so there and, with the help of your future self, we were able to modify the train so it would be more mobile and reliable to use in any time period. I inserted a futurized steam boiler which runs on a new energy of the future and updated the control panels and all the time machine's functions."

"You mean you got to see me again?" Marty became excited. "Doc, you've got to tell me! Am I rich now or what? I mean, I changed the future and everything!"

"Please, Marty," Doc shook his head. "I didn't come here to tell your fortune. I need your help."

"Uh, sure, Doc. What's up?" Marty still had a huge smile spread across his face. He could already see himself as a successful rock star in the future.

"A couple of days into our vacation we were thumbed at a restaurant," Doc explained.

"Thumbed?"

"Well, we ordered some alcoholic beverages, nothing too intoxicating - you know how alcohol can impair me - and I hadn't realized that the counter our hands were placed on acted like an instant identification system. It scanned our finger prints without us even knowing it. When our profiles didn't appear the owner immediately called the police. Somehow we got out and planned to get the train and head home, but Clara was intercepted by an officer and a Sleep Inducer was used on her. I was tempted to counteract the arrest, but there was no way I could free her without being blinked by the Inducer myself. I managed to escape and got back to the time train." Doc concluded.

"That's pretty heavy, Doc," Marty said, nodding his head. "What are you going to do?"

"I have a plan," Doc said. "Your son, Marty McFly Junior, works for the police department in the new future reality."

"Really?" Marty beamed. "Wow! He was such a loser the last time I saw him. That's great!"

"Yes, well, unfortunately, when I told you - the you of 2020 - my problem, your son was reluctant to help," Doc explained. "He's a rookie in that year and he was afraid of what would happen if he was caught releasing a prisoner. I asked for your permission - the you of 2020 - to return to 1985, collect you - you, you - and, dressed as your son, help me free Clara. You - 2020 - agreed and that's why I'm here."

"It sounds kind of complicated," Marty's head was spinning.

"Don't worry, Marty," Doc said. "You don't have to understand it all to help me. Will you?"

"Of course!" Marty said immediately. "I practically already agreed in the future anyway, right?"

"Precisely," Doc nodded. "Here." From the pile he had dumped on the desk Doc pulled out a policeman's uniform from the future: a pair of pants, a shirt and a hat. "Here's the clothes."

They were navy-colored and the buttoned shirt was short-sleeved. The cap seemed very hi-tech with a screen on top which flashed the words: "MY NAME IS OFFICER MCFLY."

"Where'd you get this stuff from, Doc?" Marty asked as he picked up the navy pants.

"Borrowed them from your son," Doc said. "He had an extra set. Here." Now Doc picked out a pair of black boots. Then from the pile came a long belt and a baton. "And the badge." Doc dug out a gold badge from the pile and placed it at the edge of the table near Marty. "That should be all of it."

Marty nodded and changed clothes. He slipped on the boots and they laced on their own like the shoes of the future he had once worn. The belt was light - there didn't seem to be anything in it - and he fit it around his waist. The baton added some weight, but nothing Marty couldn't handle. Then came the cap, and it was heavier than Marty had anticipated.

"Jeez, Doc, it feels like there's a weight on my head," Marty complained at the pressure the heavy cap placed on his head.

"Marty, there's no reason for you to feel responsible for all this," Doc patted his friend on the back.

"No, the hat, Doc," Marty said, straightening the cap on his head. "It weighs a ton!"

"Oh," Doc said. "Well, you don't have to worry about wearing it until we get to the future."

"That's a relief," Marty took the hat off and placed it on the table. Then he picked up the badge and pinned it to his shirt. "How do I look?"

Doc glanced at Marty. "Perfect resemblance!"

"Wait a minute, Doc," Marty said as the scientist began to cross the room. "I thought you said you guys went to the year 2020."

"Yeah," Doc nodded.

"Well, then shouldn't my son be five years older and, I don't know, look different?" Marty asked. "Maybe he got taller or something."

"You'd be surprised," Doc smirked. "It's nothing too noticeable anyhow. Hopefully we'll be in and out too quick for anyone to notice."

Then Doc picked out a few items from the pile and began walking to the door.

"So what's the plan?" Marty asked.

Doc gestured for Marty to follow him and he did, making sure to bring the awkward police hat with him. Doc led him out the door and into the moonlight of the early morning, the gate surrounding his makeshift home still set open as they left the garage. Doc walked briskly across the pavement, Marty not far behind. Parked just outside the garage was Doc's white "24 Hour Scientific Service" step van he had used to make an income and finance the first time machine.

As they went around the garage Doc paused momentarily and turned to Marty: "When we get to the future we'll go directly to the police headquarters where they're holding Clara. We shouldn't have any problems as long as they believe you to be your son."
"What about you?" Marty asked. "Aren't you wanted for arrest?"

From the items in his hands Doc pulled out a pair of handcuffs. "There shouldn't be any problems as long as I'm your prisoner. Our alibi will be that you found me hiding out in an alleyway on Green Street. Got it?"

"Check, Doc," Marty nodded.

"We'll use this to jimmy the lock on Clara's cell," Doc took what looked to be a futuristic switchblade from the pile he held. Fitting the switchblade into his pocket, Doc continued: "Once we get Clara we'll use ..." here Doc paused and pulled from the pile in his left hand the Sleep Inducing Alpha Rhythm Generator he had used in 2015 "... the Sleep Inducer to knock the police out and make a break for the train."

Doc slid the Sleep Inducer into his pocket and now pulled one of the two remaining items (both were small walkie-talkies from the future) from his arm and handed it to Marty. "If we get separated we'll use these to keep in touch."

Marty accepted the lavender walkie-talkie and examined it. It was smaller than the palm of his hand and looked like a child's toy. "Great."
Now Doc led Marty around to the back of his garage and down the small, grassy hill. There, at the bottom of the hill, rested the time traveling steam engine, its exterior constructed of technology a century ahead of its time.

"Jeez, Doc! You just leave this thing sitting out in middle of the street?" Marty scratched the back of his head nervously.
"There wasn't any time to find a proper hiding place. Don't worry, I was very discreet and it's too early for anyone to notice anyhow," Doc said simply.

Marty looked over his right shoulder at the Burger King just feet away from Doc's garage. The lights were on and the place was still opened - not much business - but it seemed to Marty that anyone who stopped by for a late-night snack would catch a glimpse of a futurized, flying train. "Right, Doc."

Doc stepped up to the left side of the train and pushed his thumb against a small plate which rested just to the side of the door. After a moment a small beep! sounded and the doors slowly swung open.

"Get in!" Doc commanded.

Marty obeyed and, as he climbed up the two bench steps that were connected to the bottom half of the door, Doc walked hurriedly to a trash can which had been knocked over and laid on the sidewalk. He collected some refuse from it and returned to the train and climbed inside.

Marty looked around. It wasn't too roomy, only about four yards long, and there were only two seats. One was on the back wall and could comfortably seat three people. In the front, at the head of the train, there was another seat for the conductor. As Doc entered the train he came to the control panel at the front of the train and unscrewed a small, circular lid with a handle labeled "Mr. Fusion" and pulled it off. With his other hand, Doc dumped the garbage he had collected into the hole where the lid had been and sat down in the conductor's seat.

Doc placed his hand on a knob on the main panel before him and turned it. Marty saw something in the front light up and decided that Doc had turned on the time circuits. Just to his right a destination panel lit up. It was electronic, obviously and update from the future, and quite similar to the one that had been used in the DeLorean, with a keypad to type in the date. Doc entered the date of destination as: September 22, 2020 12:01 AM.

"All right," Doc smiled to himself. "All set."

"Hey, Doc," Marty said, sitting down in the middle of the seat in the back. "I just thought of something. What if the police try to thumb me and they find out I'm, you know, me?"

Doc bent down and slid a small compartment open from the control panel. From this he pulled out a bottle filled with blue-green liquid (there were many of the same kind inside) and closed the door. Then he pulled open a small panel from the futurized incinerator connected to the front-left corner of the train and poured the liquid from the bottle into it.

"Well," Doc dropped the empty bottle into the Mr. Fusion compartment and screwed the lid back on, "we shouldn't have to worry about that. Try to keep your hands in your pockets and keep your head down. They won't suspect anything if they don't see your face clearly. Your son does a look a bit different than the last time we saw him, but you two look similar enough that his associates will think it nothing but a new haircut."

"You're the doc, Doc," Marty shrugged his shoulders as Doc sat back in the conductor's seat.

"All right," Doc smiled and pulled a seat belt across his waist. "Buckle up!" he commanded and he placed his hand on a long lever which extended from the floor.

Marty looked back and forth for the seat belt and, before he had a chance to pull it from in between the seat cushions where it had gotten stuck, Doc pulled back on the lever. The train jarred to life and seemed to lift into the air. Marty, who had still been searching for his seat belt, felt himself lift a few inches off his seat and collapse onto the train's hard metal floor. He wasn't seriously hurt, just a little scrape on his elbow.

"Jeez, Doc, you could give me some kind of a warning," Marty complained as he climbed back onto his seat and buckled his safety restraint securely.

"Sorry," Doc apologized. Before the scientist was a steering wheel and Marty thought it amusing to see one in a train. Doc pulled back on that lever which seemed to control the train's hover circuits and the train lifted higher into the air. Then he swung the steering wheel to the right, all the time looking at two screens which rested on the front wall before him. One was labeled: "FRONT VIEW" and the other labeled: "REAR VIEW" and it seemed that through them was the only way Doc could tell what was in front and behind the train.The train swung to the right and Doc pushed a lever on the panel forward which read: "ACCELERATE". The train chugged forward, slowly at first, but then began to gain speed. Then Doc pulled the lever back and the train slowed. He then turned the wheel to the right again, all the time shifting higher and higher into the air and out of the sights of any wandering eyes.

Marty looked out the right window. "This is your idea of discreet?" Doc didn't answer and, as they lifted further into the sky and out of sight, anyone who had noticed the disturbance found nothing but blackness and stars staring back at them. Doc pushed forward on the "ACCELERATE" lever one last time and the train lurched ahead, gaining speed. Marty looked at the electronic speedometer which sat on the panel before Doc. It was just reaching 50. The train was moving with greater speed now, faster than any steam engine should, and by the time it hit 80 Marty could hear the cast iron walls rattling around him and was really getting worried that the whole thing was going to implode inside out.

86 ... 87 ... Here Marty held his breath and in the next instance the dark morning's sky of November 1, 1985 was empty.

Marty leaned over in his seat and looked out the train's right window. A blue, white light had enveloped the exterior of the clear glass and, for a moment, Marty could not see anything. Then, as quickly as it was there, the light was gone and Marty saw through the cold steam wafting into the air from the train's exterior the dark town of Hill Valley down below.

"Are we in the future?" Marty asked after a moment, unable to see a difference in the distant, dotted buildings below.

Doc didn't say anything and pushed forward on the "ACCELERATE" lever very slightly. The train moved forward in the sky, not going faster than ten miles per hour. Doc turned the wheel slowly to the left and looked down through the left window. In the distance he could see the courthouse, the lights off and the underground mall closed.

"The future is here," Doc said solemnly.

The train floated high in the sky through restricted air space where vehicles were not, by law, allowed to hover. It floated gently across the sky for ten or so minutes at a slow pace. Then Doc pushed forward on the hover lever and the locomotive began to descend. Marty looked out his window and saw that they were lowering into a fairly large clearing within a wooded area just outside the town's square. As the train came just inches from the ground Doc pushed the hover lever forward until it could not move any further and a small click! was heard as it locked into place. Marty could hear the train's wheels returning to their normal position as the train landed with a thump! Doc unbuckled his seat belt and stood.

"Ready?" the scientist asked and Marty nodded, unbuckling his belt to stand as well.

Marty grabbed the hi-tech police hat which he had sat on his seat and went to Doc's side. Doc pushed his thumb against a plate on the inside wall of the train and the doors swung open. Doc climbed down first, the handcuffs and walkie-talkie pushed against his chest, his left arm cradling them and his right arm sliding down the support bar of the locomotive's steps. Marty followed and, once they were out, Doc pushed his thumb against the outside plate and the doors snapped shut.

"The station is a couple miles out of town," Doc told Marty. "You know the Greensward area?"

Marty shook his head. That was an expensive neighborhood. Only rich people lived there and Marty didn't even want to think about skating down those snobs' streets.

"Greensward's the police department where Clara's being held," Doc continued. "Just off of Green Street. If we get caught we should split up. You'll head north toward Green Street and Clara and I will go east to Auburn Street. I'll contact you on the walkie-talkie when the coast is clear and give you directions back to the train."

"Check, Doc," Marty nodded and felt the walkie-talkie which was now stuffed in his pocket.

"All right. Let's go." Doc led the way through Hill Valley's town square. It was a fairly small and simple town and Doc had lived there his entire life. He had considered a few times moving before he had met Marty in 1955, but he found the small town to be the perfect background for a scientist to work his "magic" without being bombarded with questions or ridicule. In fact, now he felt like the town had become a part of him, bonded to his bones by the history he had observed with his greatest and most dangerous invention.
Ever since he had realized the flux capacitor and then, later that night, met Marty, Emmett Brown had decided to trace the history of Hill Valley down, being very careful not to track down his own mangled future in the late 1800's. Nothing had been known about the area that would become Hill Valley before the 1860's. Some history books even believed the town to have once been a long-lost Mission of Spanish California, though Doc's logic told him that probably wasn't so. There wasn't enough evidence, if any. Doc thought it fitting that Hill Valley's origins, either lost in the past or non-existing, were not much older than he was. It was almost ironic then, that Doc had invented time travel in this infant town that's past was a hazy shadow.

It took them less than an hour to reach Greensward and the town's police department. At this time, crouched in the bushes a few feet from the department's doors, Marty placed the weighty cap on his head and Doc snapped one the handcuff's manacles around his wrist and the other manacle around Marty's.

"You got a key for this thing, Doc?" Marty said in a half-whisper.

Doc shook his head. "There is no key. They're magicians' cuffs, you know the ones you shake and they come loose? Try to keep your arm still as we enter. We don't want the cuffs to fall off and give ourselves away."
Marty nodded and they stood. Doc led the way. As they approached the door Marty shifted his hand to wipe off some sweat from his palm and the cuffs came loose from around his wrist. Doc snapped the manacle around Marty's wrist again and reminded the teenager not to move his arm.

"When we get in," Doc said in a hushed voice, "push me along and I'll kind of struggle like I'm not going under my own will. Tell them you're taking me to the cell in the back and you'll be back to fill out the paper work."

"Okay, Doc," Marty nodded, taking in the instructions. Marty approached the police station's front door and, taking in a heavy breath of air, threw it open. He pushed Doc through the doorway, making sure to keep his left arm very still so the phony handcuffs did not fall off.

As he entered, Doc cried out in a shrill holler: "Let me go! Let me go!"

The policeman at the front desk looked up at the noise. He stood and went around the desk to meet him as he entered.

"Uh, Doc, you might want to take it down a notch," Marty suggested.

"You'll never take me alive!" Doc cried, his free hand flailing in the air, his index finger pointed to the roof.

"Over-actor," Marty mumbled under his breath.

The policeman strolled up to Marty, his eyes shifting between him and Doc. "What's going on here, officer?"

Marty remembered to lower his head and said: "Caught this guy out on Green Street. Think he's the guy in cahoots with that woman they brought in earlier. The ones they thumbed and didn't have any profiles." Then he mumbled to Doc: "Is that all right?"

Doc nodded. "Yep," he said quickly.

The man looked at Marty for a moment and then looked up at the cap he wore. "MY NAME IS OFFICER MCFLY" scrolled across the screen on the cap. Finally, the officer smiled and said: "Well done, McFly."

"Thanks," Marty said, his head still down and his face expressionless. "I'm gonna take this guy to the cell in the back. I'll fill out the paperwork when I get back."

"You need any help?" the officer asked.

Marty was already walking away. "Nope. No thanks. I've got this guy."

"You won't get away with this!" Doc howled as Marty pushed him around the corner and out of sight.

Once the officer could no longer see them, Marty took the cap off with his free hand. "Can we get these cuffs off now, Doc?"
Doc nodded and Marty shook his wrist and the handcuffs snapped off. Doc slid them into his pocket and led the way down the corridor.

"I was afraid to come back so late," Doc explained. "But I'm sure the trial proceedings haven't taken place yet. I hope not, or retrieving Clara from the State Penitentiary would be quite difficult. But I couldn't take the train out in daylight."

Then they came to the two jail cells where alleged criminals were held until their hearings. No one was in the first cell they came across, but, as they came to the next one, Doc immediately saw Clara's form behind the bars. She sat on an old, uncomfortable bed with a backboard made of springs and wore a plastic, blue dress from the future. Her long, frizzy hair hung loosely around her shoulders and her face was covered with beads of sweat, an exasperated expression on her face.

"Clara!" Doc called, almost too loud.

She looked up. "Emmett!" she cried with surprise. She ran to the bars, wrapping her white fingers around them and sticking her face in between the slits.

"Clara, are you all right?" Doc asked.

"I'm fine. What about you?" Clara said with concern.

Doc nodded an okay.

"How did you get here? They didn't catch you too, did they?" Clara asked, biting her thumb's fingernail in worry.

"No," Doc shook his head. "Marty helped."

Marty looked to Clara and gave her a quick smile and a wave. "Hi again."

"Junior?" Clara asked. "Thank God! I never thought you'd risk your job for us!"

"I didn't," Marty said. "Well, I mean, he didn't. I'm Marty, uh, Senior."

"No," Clara shook her head.

"I used the time machine," Doc told her. "I had to get you out somehow and Marty's son wasn't cooperating."

"But if they find out that Junior let us escape ..." Clara trailed off. "It doesn't seem right. What about your son?"

Marty looked at Clara. It was all so confusing. He didn't even really know his son. How could he care one way or the other about him? "Everything'll work out."

Doc pulled the switchblade from his pocket and snapped back an attachment which looked like an electronic pick. "The Marty of this time, Marty Senior, already gave me permission, Clara. I wouldn't have gone to get Marty if he hadn't."

"It still doesn't seem right," Clara shook her head, but decided to allow the breakout to continue.

Doc placed the tip of the pick against the thumb-plate which unlocked the door and Marty heard a swirling sound. "What're you doing, Doc?"

"The pick's deprogramming the information instilled in the plate," Doc explained. "When it's finished, I'll be able to use my own thumb-print to open the door."

Marty was amazed. He couldn't wait for the future to arrive so he could try out all these wonderful inventions. Though something in the back of Marty's mind told him that some of the things Doc had, like the pick and the Sleep Inducer, might not be legal. It was a shame he'd be 47 before he could ride a hoverboard again (and at that time he might be too old to do so). Marty shuddered at the thought.

Marty heard footsteps and he turned to Doc and said: "Hey, Doc, let's go!"

"One more second," Doc's tongue was now sticking out of his mouth, his lips clenched tightly around it.

"Someone's coming!" Marty urged.

Beep! The pick had finished its work and Doc pressed his thumb against the plate. After a moment, the barred door sprang open and Doc pulled Clara out.

"Marty," Doc said. "Get behind. I'll knock the police out with the Sleep Inducer."

Marty didn't hesitate. He allowed Doc to take the lead and from his pocket the scientist pulled out the Sleep Inducer. As he reached his hand out to blink the approaching officer he felt a hand reach out and grab his wrist. He looked up and saw Marty staring back at him.

"Oh, great!" Marty said, his face twisted in a loathsome expression.

"Great Scott!" Doc almost collapsed, but held himself together.

"Hey guys, I need some help back here!" Marty called over his shoulder, but before he could take hold of Doc's other hand another hand reached out and stopped him.

"Hey, pal! Let go of him!" Marty said, and this was the real Marty.

Marty Junior stared at Marty for a long moment and Marty's jaw dropped. He hadn't realized that the officer who had stopped Doc was actually his future son! Doc was right: Junior hadn't changed much. He looked the same, but there was something about his expression and the way he had spoken to Doc that disturbed him. Staring into his near-double's eyes, Marty realized there was only one thing to do.

"Hey, look over there!" Marty pointed over Marty Junior's shoulder.

Junior didn't bite, but Marty lashed out at him with his free hand anyway and hit him square in the jaw. It didn't feel right, like he had just attacked his own father. Junior toppled to the ground and Doc stared at the fallen officer, his eyes ballooning from their sockets with surprise.

"Doc, come on, let's go!" Marty waved Doc forward, already stepping over his fallen son and moving toward the door. Doc following, grasping Clara's wrist tightly and pulling her along.

Marty Junior began to stand, holding his jaw in his hand. "Glims on, people! He's got a Sleep Inducer!"

As Marty, Doc, and Clara rounded the corner, two officers wearing large metal eye coverings similar to the ones Marty had seen Doc wearing when he returned from the future to whisk Marty away the first time advanced upon them.

"Doc! The Sleep Inducer!" Marty cried.

Doc shook his head. "The glasses. Unless it comes into direct contact with the pupils it won't have any effect!"
Marty was pretty upset at hearing that. The Inducer had been their escape plan. Now they would all be locked up and then who would save them? Marty, thinking quickly, bent down and plowed through the two officers, knocking them aside. Doc didn't hesitate to follow, pulling Clara along for the ride. They ran out of the police station's doors and Marty halted, looking back and forth, not completely sure which way to go.

Doc and Clara rushed to Marty's side and Doc said quickly, through gasps of breath: "Go that way." He pointed to left at Green street which was a few yards away. "Get yourself somewhere safe and contact me on the walkie-talkie. And be careful! If you get yourself killed it would create a paradox!"

Doc and Clara rushed off in the opposite direction. Thanks for worrying, Marty thought to himself, then rushed across the street and down the dark sidewalk. The three police officers banged through the doors a moment later.

Marty Junior caught sight of Marty and called: "I'll get him! Call it in and tell them to be on the lookout!"

The other two police nodded and disappeared back into the building while Marty Junior sprinted after his teenaged father. Marty didn't like this chase one bit. He was being pursued by his own son, before he had a son, in a town he didn't know, in a time he didn't know, down a dark street that led to who knows where.

Doc pulled Clara into a dark alley. Though he was sixty-seven he felt more like twenty-seven. That was thanks to the Rejuvenation Clinic he had gone to in his previous visit to the future. He couldn't help but wonder if Clara, his beloved wife, would have fallen in love with him if he had looked as aged as he once had. He didn't like to think about it. Clara obviously wasn't the type to hold appearance over personality, but he still couldn't help but imagine.

They ran down the alleyway. Luckily enough there wasn't a wall on the other end as was typical in so many half-baked movies, so they would be able to escape if they were spotted. They stayed in the shadows of the alley for a long time, afraid to move. Eventually, as Doc had assumed, a police car floated across street before them, shining a light down into the alley. Clara and Doc ducked behind some boxes and trash cans and the light showed nothing out of the usual. When the car was gone, they waited a full five minutes before they stood.

"What do we do?" Clara asked. "We can't leave without Marty."

"Of course not!" Doc agreed. "But we can't hope to get to the train with the police out searching the entire town. And if Marty is caught we'll have to conceive some way to free him."

"What do we do?" Clara asked again.

Doc thought for only a moment and then cried: "That's it!"

Then he led Clara by the arm out of the alleyway and across Auburn Street. "Marty can help us," Doc whispered to his wife.

"Marty? But how -" Clara began.

"Not our Marty - Marty. 2020 Marty," Doc elaborated. "It's the only place we can go. Come on!"

Clara was reluctant, but followed Doc anyway. She hated to put so much burden on Emmett's friend's shoulders. First in 1885, when he had saved Emmett's life more than once. Then, when they came to the future to test the time train, they had visited him and he let them stay in one of his guest rooms. And he had even supplied the finances for updating the time machine! Then Emmett had gone to retrieve him in order to impersonate his son and free her from prison. Now, to impose on 2020 Marty again, as wanted felons, they could really be doing damage to his future. She wouldn't be surprised if he turned them down flat and told them he couldn't help them.

But Marty wouldn't do that. He and Emmett were so close, even thirty-five years in the future. She almost felt like they were taking advantage of Marty's friendship and she couldn't help but think that things might be better if Emmett hadn't brought either Marty's into this mess at all; or better yet, if they had never come to the future or if Emmett hadn't built the time machine. Everything would have been perfect, and Clara would not find herself running across a dark street in a sticky and uncomfortable dress, barging in on Emmett's friend of the future.

Doc, on the other hand, didn't seem didn't seem the least bit troubled with imposing on Marty. Yes, it was a difficult thing to do, having to ask his friend to harbor them until morning, but Doc knew that Marty would be upset if Doc hadn't come to him. And Doc was willing to help Marty in any way he that could, too, in return. He had saved his children from going to jail once and, thanks to his creation, Marty's present and future lives were much better than they had once been. It wasn't that Doc thought Marty owed him a few favors, just that he was sure Marty would help him out any way that he could and Doc would do the same in return. Name the problem and I'll handle it, as long as it doesn't mean destroying the time barrier. And Doc was confident that he would, too.

Doc and Clara hustled through the darkness. They heard no police sirens (Doc was sure the police had turned them off in order to better their chances of catching him and Clara) and Doc was constantly looking over his shoulder. They made their way through the hills of Greensward which led to Marty's house. Up and down the grassy hills, sometimes slipping on the slick mud and grass and the hem of Clara's futuristic dress becoming soiled. Finally they reached their destination: 1720 Auburn Street, and there was Marty's mansion. It was even bigger than Doc's had once been and when Doc returned to the future the first time he was ecstatic over his friend's success.

Doc's words had never rung truer: "If you put your mind to it you can accomplish anything." It was true and even more true were Doc's other words of wisdom: "The future hasn't been written yet." He was a philosopher in his own right and never said anything he wasn't nearly one hundred percent certain to be accurate.

Doc and Clara hustled across the wet and well-kept grass and to the sidewalk which led to Marty's door. They slowed as they came to it, certain that the police had not seen them and that they were finally out of harm's way temporarily. Doc pushed his finger against the doorbell and heard the bell ring behind the door: "The Power of Love." Marty had to put a musical touch to everything.
Doc and Clara heard a shuffling behind the door and then a man groaning and then, finally, the door opened inward. Marty of 2020 looked at Clara and Doc and smiled. He wore underpants and a shell shirt and a long, black robe which hung loosely around his form. His hair was gray, but he wasn't as wrinkled as his alternate, 2015 self was. His smiled sporadically turned into a yawn and Marty held the back of his hand to his mouth and gestured to Doc and Clara with his other to enter.

"Come in, come in," Marty said in his rather gruff, thirty-five year older voice as he tied his robe closed.

Marty closed the door behind the couple and looked them over. "You got her! That's great!"

Doc nodded. "Unfortunately the breakout didn't go as well as we'd hoped."

"Yeah," Marty nodded. "What're you guys doing here anyway? And where is, you know, me?"

"We split up," Doc confirmed.

"Guess those memories haven't sunk in yet," Marty put his hand to his head and shook it. "Man, I hope I'm all right." Marty laughed at this. "Sounds kind of funny to say."

"You have to be," Doc assured Marty. "Or else you wouldn't exist right now and that would cause some major problems."

"Then I really hope I'm all right!" Marty grinned. "I'm a survivor! I'm sure I'll be okay." And again, Marty laughed at referring to himself as a different, separate entity. "So what's up?"

"We were hoping you'd let us stay the night," Doc said. "Until the police have dissipated some."

"Hey, sure, no problem!" Marty smiled again. "Whatever you want. You guys can stay in one of the guest rooms!"

Again Clara found herself ashamed of taking advantage of the lovable guy. No coercion or convincing was necessary. All the money in my bank account? Take it! The clothes off my back? They're yours! My wife and kids? Didn't like them that much anyway! Clara smiled at Marty as she and Doc walked past him. She felt terrible.

"You okay, Clara?" Marty asked Doc's wife.

"Hm? Oh, fine," Clara nodded.

"A little strung-out?" Marty asked. "I don't blame you. Listen, you guys can stay as long as you want. If you don't find ... me by the time morning comes you can always stick around. No problem."

He sure knew how lay the guilt on thick. No, he wasn't trying to make them feel bad. He was only trying to be nice and help his old friend. Old friend? Clara laughed at the thought. She knew Emmett's real age, but Emmett still looked younger than Marty at fifty-two.

"That won't be necessary, Marty," Doc decided. "You should be coming into contact with me at any time now. When morning arrives I and Clara and your other self will head for the train."

"Whatever you need," Marty said. "Hope I'm around when he ... I call, though. That'd be something to hear."

Doc smiled at the thought himself and then Marty led Doc and Clara to their room upstairs. They entered and Marty said: "You know the drill. Hey, you guys hungry? I'll wake Jen and have her whip something up."

Marty had always been humble, even after he had made his first million. Never had he considered getting a butler or a maid. He wanted his kids to be self-reliant and he didn't want to get too lazy himself. Besides, Jennifer hated sitting around doing nothing and the place was so large, cleaning it every day was a real job! Though Marty never did learn how to cook a decent meal.

"Oh no, Marty, don't wake her," Clara declined. "We don't want to be any trouble."

"Trouble?" Marty almost laughed. "No way! You guys are my best friends! No way is it trouble! I'll get Jen to nuke something."

Before Clara could object again Marty was gone, hustling across the hall to his and his wife's room.

"Emmett, don't you think we're imposing?" Clara looked at her husband. He crouched over a big mahogany table and laid out everything he had brought with him for the breakout on it.

"Please, Clara," Doc stepped up to his wife and placed his hands on her shoulders. "Marty's more than happy to do it. You should consider yourself lucky we have such a good friend."

"He's your friend, Emmett," Clara disavowed. "The only reason he's so nice to me is because I'm your wife. And if that isn't take advantage of someone, I don't know what is!"

"Clara!" Doc scolded.

"It's true, Emmett," Clara shook her head. "I'm practically a stranger. We only met that week in 1885 and then now, in 2020, and I'm sure Marty wouldn't harbor a wanted fugitive he didn't know!"

"Hey, hey! What's all the yelling about?" Marty poked his head into the bedroom and looked at Doc and Clara.

"Oh, you know how couples bicker," Doc said simply.

"Oh, yeah," Marty agreed. "Me and Jen are always at it over something, aren't we, hon?"

Marty looked over his shoulder as Jen walked past him, heading toward the stairs. "Yeah, yeah," she said, yawning and waving the back of her hand at Marty.

"She's not exactly a peach when she wakes up at one-thirty in the morning," Marty chuckled. "But God knows I love her. I'm gonna give her a hand. Can I trust that you two can keep you hands off each other while we're gone? Nah, I'm only teasing. Go to town!"

Then Marty disappeared from the door. He was different then Marty thirty-five years younger. A different sort of sense of humor and overall very pleased with his life. He was always laughing and Doc was very glad to see his friend handling his future success so well.

"I don't like it, Emmett," Clara said after she was sure Marty was gone. "I know that you're friends, but that doesn't make me any less selfish."

"Maybe you should tell Marty how you feel? Clear the air," Doc suggested.

Clara shook her head. "No. It's silly, I know, but I can't help how I feel about it. I don't like asking so much of someone I don't really know. I'll just be glad when we get home and all this time-traveling business is behind us."

"And it will be," Doc promised. "As soon as we get everything moved to 1985 I'll disassemble the train and we can live happily ever after."

"Actually, Emmett, I was thinking about that ..." Clara couldn't finisher her statement. She was interrupted by Marty's wail from the kitchen downstairs:

"Come an' get!"

"We'll talk later," Doc assured her and he grabbed the walkie-talkie from the table. Then he held out his arm and Clara wrapped hers around it and they strolled out of the room and down to the kitchen, Clara's face filled with turmoil.

 Jennifer served them bowls of chicken soup she had warmed up and told them to feel free to take a piece of bread from the breadbasket at the front of the table. The dining table was very long and could sit twenty-two people, ten on each side of the table and one at the front and end. They all sat toward the front, Jennifer opting to take the chair at the head.

"Snooze you loose," Jen had joked with Marty. Marty didn't care. He wasn't sexist about those kinds of things. He was just happy to be sitting down to a meal with his good friend who he'd probably never see again.

Marty took a piece of bread and buttered it. "So how's things going with you two? You know, I forgot to ask about your kids. How old are they anyway?"

"Kids?" Clara wore a blank expression.

"Uh, don't be silly, Marty! We don't have any kids!" Doc shook his head at Marty, his eyes bulging out. He really didn't think Clara should know she would have to bear two children. Not that she would be upset, just that no one should know too much about their own destiny and it was bad enough Doc knew already.

"Oh, I guess you guys didn't have them yet. How long have you been married?" Marty asked.

"We're going to have kids?" Clara asked.

Doc shook his, but Marty replied: "Yeah. I'm surprised Doc didn't tell you yet ... Hey! I just remembered that! Telling you that you had kids when you came and got me in 1985. I guess those new memories are sinking in slowly but surely!"

"Why didn't you tell me, Emmett?" Clara asked indignantly.

"Oh, you know the Doc," Marty responded for the scientist. "You know, 'no one should know too much about their own destiny' and all that! He's right, I guess, but what harm could it do to know that you're going to have kids? Me and Jen knew for thirteen years before Marty Junior was born that he and his sister were coming along!"

"We tried to act surprised!" Jennifer joked. "What? A baby boy? I never imagined! What should we call him? Let's see? Jonathan? Jordan? Donnie or Danny? Or maybe Joey? He was always my favorite!"

"No, hon!" Marty continued the gag. "Let's name him after me! His old man! The famous rocker! Let's call him Marty Junior!"

Marty and Jen laughed and Doc and Clara exchanged uneasy glances.

"It saved us the time of going through baby name books!" Marty sat back in his chair. "Did you tell her their names?"

"It would be best if I didn't," Doc objected.

"Hey, you're the doc, Doc," Marty grinned.

"How's Marlene doing?" Doc changed the subject.

"Ah, jeez. You know, they still won't let us see her," Marty shook his head. "And we weren't even talking to each other when everything went down. I'm hoping to get another hearing set up for her, but they have a vid of it. And Junior's not doing one damn thing to help her. I think it'd be better if I'd never convinced him to join the police department."

"How's the soup?" Jennifer interrupted, noticing that neither Clara nor Doc had touched the steaming liquid.

Clara and Doc remained silent. Clara sipped some of the soup from her spoon, plastered on a mock smile, and nodded enthusiastically.

"Sorry," Jen apologized. "It's the best I could come up with this late at night. I know, I must look a mess, too."
Jen pushed her unkempt hair behind her shoulders.

"You look fine, hon," Marty told her and placed his hand on hers.

Suddenly, Clara stood, hitting the table with her legs and making everyone's soup swish back and forth in their bowls. "May I be excused?"

Marty looked at Doc who's face remained stone, eyes wide, and then back at Clara and said: "Yeah."
Clara took the napkin that had been resting on her lap and threw it onto the table and walked out of the kitchen.

"What's up with Clara, Doc?" Marty asked.

Doc shook his head and got up himself, hustling to go after Clara. Marty looked at Jen and she shrugged her shoulders and they continued eating their soup.

Doc entered the guest room and saw Clara sitting on the bed, her hands clasped together and looking down. She looked upset, but was not crying.

"Clara," Doc approached her. "What's going on?"

Clara looked up at Doc. "I don't like being around them, Emmett."

"Marty and Jennifer? Why not?"

"It's just ... The way they act ..." Clara trailed off. "The house, the dinner! Bing, bang, boom! Heated soup ready to serve in less than a minute! Fresh bread and butter. Everything they could ever want!"

"Marty worked hard for this house," Doc said. "You shouldn't feel guilty about sharing some of his wealth."

"It's not that," Clara returned. "It's not Marty and it's not his wife. It's ... this!" Clara gestured around the room. "Growing up this one room was the size of my house! My father had to shoot our dinner and my mother had to gut the chicken and chop it to pieces before she could serve chicken soup! I just ... it's not easy for me to adjust to all of this technology, that's all."

"I know it won't be easy, Clara," Doc sat down on the bed next to her and put his arm over her shoulders. "I'll help you get used to everything."

"And then, on top of that, I find out I'm going to have children and then I discover that you knew the entire time!"

"I didn't have much of a chance to tell you, Clara," Doc began.

"Even so," Clara shook her head. "I don't like this ... all of this time traveling. I wasn't even thinking about kids yet. I mean, I wouldn't mind, but I wanted it to be a surprise! A few weeks or so in ... I'm pregnant!"

"You wouldn't have to wait a few weeks!" Doc exclaimed. "In the future we have pregnancy tests. They can tell you your pregnant before you show any physical signs!"

"See!" Clara cried. "It's things like that! I don't want to know I'm pregnant before I show physical signs! I want to second-guess it, because I don't want it all to be planned out like one of your formulas! I don't want to be expecting it! I want to feel the first time my baby kicks and not have someone tell me when it's going to happen. I want it all to be a surprise! I don't want to know what day I'll give birth or what color my babies' eyes are going to be or what I'm going to name them! Because that's not life and then it feels all so mechanical. I want it to be like a miracle! Like when my brother was born! I was so happy and so was my mother ... before she died. It was like a miracle and he had just dropped out of the sky ..."

"We can still be happy and it can still be miraculous," Doc took Clara in his arms. "You can still feel our baby kick and name him yourself and we can still be happy!"

"But it's not the same," a tear rolled down Clara's cheek. "It's everything else, too. Everything's different, Emmett! And I don't like it! I thought I would, but it's too different! I mean, when our fingerprints were scanned that night I didn't know what was happening! I was so scared. I don't want that to happen again! I don't want to be arrested for being naive or doing something I shouldn't do because I don't know that I shouldn't do it or for being me! I don't want that to happen!"

"I won't let that happen, Clara," Doc assured her. "I won't! You'll adapt! I know you can! Can't you try?"

"I don't think I want to," Clara pulled away from Emmett, tears streaming down her cheeks. "I don't like it and I don't want to try to like it. I want to return to 1888 and I just want to live in peace for the rest of our lives!"

"But I don't belong there, Clara," Doc insisted. "Neither do you! You where supposed to die in that ravine! Remember?"

"I do, Emmett! I do! But I didn't! I'm not dead, so I should have the right to live on and not have to run away from my own time just to live! I don't care about paradoxes or any of those things, Emmett! I'm alive and that's all that matters to me! So why can't I live?"
Doc took Clara in his arms again and held her tight. "You can, Clara, you can! If you don't want to live in the future we won't. We'll go back to 1888 and we'll live happily ever after."

Clara pulled away from Emmett again and looked at him, her eyes puffy and blood-shot from crying so much. She wiped her eyes and said: "Are you sure? Are you sure you can do that? Even if it causes a paradox or something like that?"

Doc nodded gravely. "If that's what you want, Clara, then that's what we'll do. Even if it means destroying the entire universe it's worth it to make you happy."

Clara hugged Emmett tightly, sobbing with emotion. Doc couldn't help but think: But it's not worth it! She doesn't understand that it really could destroy the universe!

But he didn't voice his thoughts. He cradled Clara in his arms and let her weep for a few long minutes until he heard a knock on their door and Marty called from the outside: "Hey, Doc, can I come in?"

Clara sat up straight and wiped her eyes. Doc called: "Come in, Marty!"

Marty entered and stood in the doorway. He extended his hand which now held Doc's walkie-talkie and handed it to Doc. "You left this downstairs."

"Thanks," Doc accepted the walkie-talkie.

"You guys okay?"

Doc nodded and smiled. "Everything's fine."

"Great. Listen, me and Jen are going back to bed. If you need anything, holler," Marty said.

"Will do," Doc answered.

As Marty moved to the hall he heard the soft tune of "The Power of Love" ring throughout the house and mumbled to himself: "What now?"

Marty left the doorway and headed downstairs.

"Ready for bed?" Doc asked Clara and she nodded.

"Hey, son!" Marty called very loudly so that his voice carried upstairs. "What brings you here?"

"Great Scott!" Doc cried. "Marty Junior! We have to get out of here!"

Doc grabbed the items from the table and stuffed them in his pockets. Then he grabbed Clara around the waist and led her out of the room. Jen met them as they entered the hall.

"Do you have a back door?" Doc asked her.

"Downstairs," Jennifer nodded. "But Junior will see you!"

"We don't have much choice," Doc returned and he and Clara hustled down the stairs.

As they came down they saw Marty Junior standing in the front doorway, speaking with his father. They turned quickly to rush for the back door when they heard Junior call: "Stop or I'll shoot!"

Doc and Clara stopped suddenly and Doc looked over his shoulder. Marty Junior had pushed his father aside and was now aiming an immobilizer gun at them. Doc recognized it immediately. A minor blast could incapacitate them for fifteen minutes and that would be plenty of time for Junior to take them into custody.

"I don't want to hurt you," Marty Junior said as he cautiously moved forward. "I know you're friends with my dad, but we have reasons to believe that you and your wife are serial murderers!"

"Son, that impossible!" Marty yelped.

"No, it's not," Junior returned. "According to the police files the murdering couple had somehow managed to erase their fingerprints! Hell, I don't now how you did it, but I can't let you go! No matter how chummy you are with my dad!"

Doc reached into his pocket. "I said 'don't move!'" Junior ordered.

From behind him, Marty reached out and grabbed Junior's arms and held them securely behind his back.

"Dad! What the hell are you doing?" Junior demanded.

"It's for your own good, son! You don't know what you're doing! These aren't the guys you're looking for!" Marty replied, trying to hold Junior still.

"You're making the mistake, dad!" Junior cried. "They'll kill again! They have to be stopped! Let me go!"

Doc quickly pulled the Sleep Inducer form his pocket and held it in front of Junior's pupils. He flicked it on and before Junior could shut his eyes he was blinked by the Inducer. Junior went limp in Marty's arms and fell to the ground as Marty struggled to hold him up. Marty crouched over his son's lax body and looked up at Doc.

"I'm sorry, Marty," Doc said. "There was nothing else I could do."

"Don't worry about it," Marty assured his friend. "But you guys had better get out of here. When Junior doesn't report in my whole place will be swarming with cops."

Doc nodded and he and Clara headed to the back door.

"Hold on!" Marty called to them. Marty stood and left Junior laying on the floor. He rushed over to a little cabinet in the living room and opened it. Inside were about thirty car keys. He pulled out a set and tossed them to Doc. Doc caught them in his left hand and Marty said: "Take the DeLorean. It'll be more discreet."

Doc was hesitant to accept the present. "I'll leave it in the woods."

"No," Marty shook his head. "You should keep it. Bring it back to the past with you. You never know when you might need a flying car."

"I can't ..." Doc began.

"Now's not the time to argue, Doctor Brown," Jennifer urged him and began pushing him toward the back door. "If Marty wants you to have it you should take it. We can always buy a new one. Now go!"

Doc only paused to give a short wave to Marty and say: "Thanks."

Marty nodded a reply and said: "Go! Go, go, go!"

Doc and Clara rushed out of the house and went around to Marty's massive garage. They entered through the garage's door and, zig-zagging through the rows of cars, found where the DeLorean was parked. As Doc unlocked the doors he saw the large, mechanical door which was attached to the roof of the garage swing open. Doc climbed into the DeLorean, opened Clara's gull-wing door and started the engine. Clara climbed in and Doc flipped on the hover circuits. The car floated into the air and Clara yipped in fright. She had only been in a flying vehicle once and had never been in an automobile before. Something else she couldn't quite get used to.

Doc pushed hard on the gas pedal and the DeLorean soared out of the garage and flew away into the early morning sky.

Marty sprinted down the sidewalk pavement. He heard his future son's footsteps behind him and knew that he was not far behind. As soon as he had begun to loose breath, Marty dumped the baton and cap he was wearing to make his escape easier. He didn't know how the police kept up such a pace with the heavy load. And Marty Junior was right on his heels and gaining.

Marty was in good shape at seventeen, but Junior was now at an arm's length from him and it seemed his police training had paid off. "Stop!" Junior commanded and then made a desperate leap at Marty and tackled him around his knees, forcing both men to be brought down in a heap on the sidewalk.

Marty managed to knock his son to the side and tried to stand to make a break again. But Junior moved quickly and he grabbed Marty's wrist and pulled out his immobilizer gun and pushed it into Marty's side.

"Don't move!" Junior commanded.

Now Marty started to panic. How would he get away? He couldn't get locked up. Would that be a paradox or not? Marty didn't care. He just knew that he didn't want to end up in jail and trapped in the future for the rest of his life.

"Get down!" Junior commanded and pulled a pair of handcuffs from his belt. "I said 'get down'!"

With one last effort, Marty swung his elbow back and struck Junior in the nose. Success! Junior toppled to the ground and the gun he held had slipped from his hand. Marty saw Junior reach for it and immediately dove to intercept him, grasping the gun in his hands and rolling off to the side of the walk. He sat up and pointed the gun directly at his future son.

"Don't move!" it was Marty's turn to command. Now, for the first time, he realized that the gun he held was not a typical pistol. It was purple in color and the barrel was wide and seemed to screw around until it formed the tip where the bullet would be propelled. On the side was written: "IMMOBILIZER" and the device seemed more like a children's toy, such as a water pistol, than an actual weapon.

"Put it down," Junior commanded. "Stunning an officer can get you thirty years in prison. It's not worth it!"

Stunning? As far as Marty could gather, the gun wouldn't kill his son or even harm him, just give Marty the opportunity he needed to escape. That was all the motivation he needed. "Sorry, son," Marty stood up and pulled the trigger. A blue laser shot from the tip of the gun and struck Junior in the chest. In an instant the beam was gone and Junior collapsed onto the sidewalk, his eyes wide open and staring into the night's sky. He remained completely still, only his stomach heaving up and down as Junior breathed heavily.

"You did it now!" Junior cried. "I'm going to make sure you get life for this!"

Marty dropped the gun and saluted his son. "Too bad I won't be around to accept the sentence."

Marty jogged off, down the sidewalk and out of view of Marty Junior. He couldn't believe what a prick of a son he had. Then again, Marty decided that Junior was just doing his job and Marty had committed a crime. But Clara had been incarcerated for a crime she didn't commit so it was only fair to set her free. He didn't feel the need to justify himself anyhow. When you had a time machine things like this were bound to happen. And Marty knew that all too well.

The teenager decided he had better find someplace to hide for the night or someone was bound to spot him. As he trudged down the street he saw a tall, white steeple appear on the horizon and then, as he got closer, the entire church came into view. He had heard about people claiming sanctuary when they entered a church and no one could touch them, so Marty decided this would be a good place, if not the best, to ditch the police.

The teen hustled up the church's cement steps to the broad, heavy wooden door and pushed it open. As he entered he made certain to close the door tightly behind him. It clacked loudly as he shut it and the sound echoed through the nearly vacant room.

Marty's eyes focused on the room he was now in. There were two rows of seven pews lined up side by side and Marty walked slowly down the path between the rows. He had never been in a church before.

Marty looked at the podium at the front of the room. It had a long, purple cloth draped across it and, above and behind it, a large, golden cross hung on the wall. There were speakers hooked to the walls in each of the far corners of the room and a microphone hung over the podium. It was a fairly small church and it had a small door in the back with the words "AUTO CONFESSION" engraved in it. Marty strolled to the front of the church and looked at the microphone which hovered above the podium.

Marty's imagination took hold of him and he pulled the microphone from its stand and held it up to his mouth as if he was about to sing. Suddenly, he was on stage in front of a sold out crowd! He began mock-singing "Beat It", half-whispering to himself the lyrics. He could imagine the crowd before him, cheering him on, begging for an encore when he had just started his first song! As his voice grew louder and the lyrics were carried through the holy temple, the church was suddenly illuminated in light and the microphone let out ear-piercing feedback through the speakers as Marty cried: "--to be defeated!"

"You shouldn't touch that," a voice scolded Marty.

Startled, Marty dropped the microphone to the ground and looked over his shoulder. Had the police found him?

There, standing against the wall, his hand resting on a light switch, was a small boy with a broad face and brown hair no older than six. He wore yellow pants, thready holes at the knees, a white shirt with a blue, nylon jacket over top which was missing all but two buttons to snap it up.

"You shouldn't have scared him like that," another voice said and now Marty looked over his shoulder and saw a boy no older than four sitting on the front bench to Marty's right. This boy had blond hair and a triangle chin and his eyes were wide and innocent. He wore azure pants, one of the legs with a long slit down it and an orange long-sleeved shirt, the collar of the sleeves frayed and the shirt stained with big, brown spots. Somehow, the two boys looked strangely familiar to him, though Marty couldn't quite put his finger on it. It was impossible for him to have seen them before.

"Why not?" the older boy approached Marty, eyeing him suspiciously. "Did you hear that dumb song he was singing?"

"That's a good song!" Marty objected.

"What do you think he's doing here?" the older boy ignored Marty and walked past him, crossing in front of the younger child.

"I dunno," the smaller boy shook his head.

"Who are you?" the older boy spun around and looked at Marty.

Marty stared at the boy, confounded by his forthrightness. Marty shook his head: "Hey, listen, I don't have to answer to you, kid. Shouldn't you be at home taking a nap?"

"I don't have to answer to you," the older boy crossed his arms and turned his back to Marty.

Marty frowned at the retort. "My name's Marty. Now will you tell me who you are?"

"Are you hiding from the cops?" the smaller boy asked instead.

"What?" Marty's eyes widened.

"He is!" the younger boy grinned. "Us too."

"Don't tell him that!" the older boy reprimanded.

"He's not gonna get us in trouble," the smaller boy said. "The cops are after him, too. Right?"

"Yeah," Marty finally consented. "Are you kids in trouble or something?"

"No," the older boy said quickly.

"We ran away from the orphanage," the younger boy said. "We really hated it there."

"Are the police after you?" Marty crouched in front of the smaller boy who seemed more willing to relinquish the information.

"We don't know," the smaller boy said. "They could be. But we ran away a couple months ago, so they probably stopped looking."

"If they ever did look," the older boy walked past Marty and down the aisle between the benches.

"They must have," Marty stood.

"You don't know the place," the smaller boy said to Marty. "They don't care about us kids. They were really mean."

"What'd they do?" Marty said with concern.

"What does it matter?" the older boy called over his shoulder. "We're not living there anymore so who cares?"

"I do," Marty said nobly. "Did they hurt you?"

"Sometimes," the younger boy bowed his head, turning his eyes to the floor. "An' they kept a whole bunch of us kids in one room an' there weren't any beds an' --"

"All right!" the older boy returned to the front. "Why do you care anyway?" he addressed Marty. "It's not like you can do anything about it. Anyway, we don't live there anymore so we shouldn't talk about it."

"What about those kids who still live there?" Marty demanded. "Who's going to help them?"

"Let them help themselves," the older boy flopped down on the bench. "Like we did."

"What's your names?" Marty asked.

"I dunno," the younger boy shrugged. "They never told us. I don't think they even know."

"No names?" Marty put his hand to his head.

"Don't tell him anything else!" the older boy ordered.

"Why not?" the younger boy asked.

"Because. You see what he's wearing, bojo? That's a police uniform. What if he tries to make us go back there?"

The younger boy looked Marty up and down and noticed his clothing for the first time. "Hey!" he sounded hurt, as if Marty had deceived him. "You're not gonna make us go back there, are ya?"

"No," Marty shook his head. "This uniform is just a disguise. I'm getting out of this place myself. Hey, shit, that reminds me."

Now Marty pulled the walkie-talkie Doc had given him from his pocket and held it up to his moth. He pushed the "TALK" button in and said: "Yo, Doc, you read me, over? Yo, Doc?"

There was no response on the other line, no static or anything. Marty held the walkie talkie up to his ear and shook it. He could hear something rattling inside and Marty held the thing in front of his eyes. "Damn! Must of broke when my son tackled me. Now how am I supposed to get back to Hill Valley?"

"You're going to Hill Valley?" the smaller boy asked.

"Yeah," Marty said. "Why?"

"That's where the orphanage is," the small boy kicked his feet against the floor. "You shouldn't go there. It's not a very good place."

"What do you mean?" Marty asked. "Hill Valley's a great place! Isn't it?"

"If you have a family or someone to take care of you," the older boy said. "But we don't, so it's not a good place for us and if you don't have anyone to look after you, you shouldn't go there either. If they thumb you and find out you don't have a family or you did something bad, it's off to the orphanage, unless you're older than twenty-one. Then they take you to jail."

"Jesus, I didn't know that," Marty shook his head. "Well, I have some friends who can help me if I can find my way back there; then I'm going back home. Wish I knew which way Hill Valley is from here ..."

Then Marty held the walkie-talkie to his lips and again tried to contact his friend to no avail.

"Where are you going?" the younger boy asked.

Marty slid the walkie-talkie into his pocket, giving up on it. "Well, actually, I'm going back to the ..." Marty cut himself off mid-sentence. "Well, far from here. Really far."

"Really?" the young boy looked up at Marty with wide eyes. "Can you take us with you? Please!"

"With me?" Marty asked. "Uh, well I'm not really going out of town."

"Yes you are!" the younger boy declared. "You said you were leaving! Take us with you! Then we can all hide from the cops together!"

"You're such a bojo!" the older boy reprimanded. "He's a cop! He's just messing with us, then he's gonna go and take us back to that stupid orphanage!"

"Nuh-uh!" the small boy shook his head. "Are you?" he looked at Marty.

"No way," Marty said. "But listen, I can't take you with me."

"Why not?" the smaller boy demanded.

"Because he's a cop," the older boy said firmly. "He's not goin' anywhere!"

"Yeah huh!" the smaller boy said. "Aren't you?"

Marty pointed to each of the boys. "Are you two brothers?"

"We think," the younger boy said. "When we were little, before they kept all the really little kids in the same room, we used to share a room by ourselves so we've always been together."

"He was just a baby," the older boy said. "And I had to take care of him. So he'd better be my brother, because there was no way I was changing the diapers of some strange little bojo!"
Marty laughed at this.

"What's so funny?" the older boy demanded.

"Nothing," Marty said. "You just remind me of me and my older brother. He always used to pick on me, too. Still does."

"Yeah, well, he's a pain," the older boy said. "But I guess I'm stuck with him."

"So can we go with you?" the younger boy asked.

"I don't think so," Marty shook his head. "It's not a good idea."

"Why not?"

"Listen, where I'm going, I'm never coming back. It's a one-way trip and everything's completely different than this place," Marty explained. "Like a completely different era."

"Good!" said the younger boy. "That's what we want! We want to get away from here an' never come back! So take us with you!"

"Are you really going somewhere like that?" the older boy looked at Marty in the eyes for the first time.

"Uhh," Marty's eyes bounced from each of the boys' faces. "Yeah."

"Then we're coming, too," the older boy decided.

"You don't understand," Marty shook his head. "I just can't take you. It's ... complicated."

"How else are you going to get back to Hill Valley?" the older boy demanded. "I know the way there. If you let us come, I'll take you."

"I don't know ..." Marty began.

"Come on!" the smaller boy urged. "If we stay around here they'll find us an' make us go back to that dumb orphanage! I don't want to go back there! I hate it there! Please?"

Marty stared at the boy. There were tears beginning to form in his eyes and finally Marty broke down. "All right. Listen, I'm not the only one going. A couple of my friends are coming, too, so if you want to take me to Hill Valley I'll take you to them and, if they agree, then you can tag along. Okay?"

The older boy thought for a moment. "Yeah."

"All right!" the younger boy cheered. "Let's go!" Then he jumped off of the bench and started skipping toward the church's door.

"Hey, hold it!" Marty ran up to him. "I don't think it's safe. There's some ... people looking for me."

"Don't worry," the older boy took the lead. "I know lots of alleys and stuff to hide in. And it'll be easier to hide in the dark. Piece of cake."

The younger boy followed behind and Marty shrugged. "If you know what you're doing."

Then he followed the boys and pulled open the heavy door for them. Marty peered out into the night. He heard nothing but the chirp of crickets and some dog's howling in the distance. It was cold and the wind picked up and gave Marty goose-bumps. He stepped away from the church, his sanctuary, and closed the door behind him. The boys rushed down the steps and Marty followed slowly, looking back and forth over his shoulders for police.

"You sure you know what you're doing?" Marty asked.

"Yep," the older boy nodded. "Just follow me."

Marty nodded and descended the steps. The sky was starless and the moon was barely visible, a small, white sliver in the sky covered in dark mist. It was definitely good hiding weather, though Marty wished he was wearing long sleeves now that he would be braving the raw night. As he followed the boys through the darkness, Marty kept his eyes behind him, certain that they would be found before they reached their destination.

 The dismal night reflected off of the body of the steel DeLorean as the car skimmed through the air. Clara was already getting air-sick and when she looked out the window she could see nothing but dots of lights down below and she knew they were very far from the ground.

"Have to fly this high or else the police are sure to spot us," Doc explained.

She wanted this entire ordeal to be over. Clara wished that she and her husband had never traveled to the future and that Emmett had just forgotten about time travel altogether. Wasn't she more important than some stupid machine? But Emmett had given his word that they would return to 1888 and this, at least, alleviated some of her worries for the time being.

"Here!" Doc pushed his walkie-talkie toward Clara. "Call Marty and see where he is. He should have contacted us by now."

"How do you--" Clara began.

"Push the 'talk' button," Doc told her.

Clara nodded and pushed the button. "H-hello? Marty?" she pushed the thing against her mouth, unsure of how exactly it worked.
A faint static came over the other line. "Marty?" Clara repeated again. "Are you there?"

Doc shook his head and took the walkie-talkie from Clara's hands. "Damn! Something must have happened to his portable transponder. It must have been damaged. At least I hope that's what happened."

Doc turned the wheel sharply to the right and the car veered in that direction. "Oh!" Clara cried as she fell against her side door. "Be careful, Emmett! What if the door opens."

"Don't worry," Doc shook his head. "There! There's the forest!"

Now Doc took the DeLorean down through the foliage and thin tree limbs scraped against the car's sides and windows as they descended through the wilderness. As they lowered to the ground, the hovering car shifting between tree trunks, Doc locked the "HOVER" switch in place and the wheels folded in and the DeLorean bumped over the terrain and braked to a stop as the time train came into view.

Doc threw open his door and stepped out. Clara felt the side of her door, attempting to imitate her husband in the way he had opened his door so easily, and struggled to locate the handle. Doc came around to her side and opened the door for her. Clara climbed out of the car and Doc shut the passenger's door behind her.

Doc held his walkie-talkie up to his lips and said: "Marty! Marty, are you there? Come in!" Then he pulled the walkie-talkie away and said: "Damn! Where is he?"

"Emmett!" Clara scolded. "Watch your mouth. A lady's present."

"I'm sorry, Clara," Doc put his arm around Clara's waist and led her toward the train. "I'm just very upset. If something happens to Marty I could never forgive myself."

"I know he's your best friend, Emmett," Clara nodded, understanding.

"Yes," Doc nodded. "And if something were to happen to him it would cause a paradox."

Clara stopped moving and looked at Doc crossly. "Is that all you care about? Your inane paradoxes?"

"Please, Clara," Doc led her forward again. "They're not inane at all. The results of such an occurrence could destroy the entire universe and unravel the space-time continuum, so I must make certain it doesn't happen. I have to go find Marty!"

"Emmett, no!" Clara declared. "You'll get caught."

"I don't perceive any other options," Doc shook his head. "You wait here at the train."

"No!" Clara stamped her foot down. "I'm not waiting in this dark forest by myself and you're not going anywhere! It's too dangerous. What if Marty's fine and then you get caught? That will just cause another problem."

"But I just can't wait here and hope he shows up!" Doc cried.

"Yes, you can," Clara said firmly.

"But ..." Doc didn't finish. When Clara set her mind on something it wasn't easy to change. "Perhaps you're right. It could cause more troubles. But if he doesn't show up soon I'm going to find him. Come on."

Doc led Clara to the train and placed his thumb against the plate. The doors swung open and he assisted Clara up the steps.

"I'm going into town to rent a boxcar for the DeLorean. Hand me that suitcase," Doc said to her.

Clara climbed into the train and disappeared. She returned with a silver briefcase with the words "EMERGENCY CASH" scribbled on it. "I don't think you should go. What if the police find you?"

"I won't be long," Doc assured her and kissed her on the cheek. "Stay here and watch the train. I'll have the walkie-talkie. If Marty calls in I'll give him directions to the forest." Then he took the briefcase from her and hustled to the DeLorean. He climbed in and Clara watched as the car floated into the air and disappeared through the leaves. She sat down on the train's cold, hard floor and looked up at the dull night's starless sky. She really hoped Marty showed up soon. The sooner he arrived, the sooner they could leave 2020 and she and Emmett could return home.

That moment, when they arrived back in 1888, forever home again, could not come fast enough for Doc's significant other.

Marty rubbed his hands over his crossed arms, attempting to warm himself. They had been successful in staying out of the police's sights so far. A couple of squad cars had flown above them, shining their lights across the street below, but Marty and the boys had managed to stay in the shadows. The older boy hadn't been bluffing about his knowledge of shadowed paths and hidden alleys either.

"Do we have to go into Hill Valley?" the younger boy tugged at Marty's pant leg.

Marty nodded. "Yep. There's a forest not too far out where my friends are ... I hope."

"I know it," the older boy, who was at the front, leading the way, said. "We used to sleep there sometimes after we ran away."

Marty nodded a reply. He couldn't wait to get out of the future. Things were so different in 2020, but Marty guessed he'd get used to it through the natural progression of time. Everyone did. Jumping into a time you don't belong was tough no matter when you went, past or future.

They walked for a few long moments in silence. In the distance Marty saw the obsolete clock tower rise slowly over the horizon. Less than a mile away, Hill Valley's town square appeared and a grin spread across Marty's face.

"There it is," the older boy said soberly. "Hill Valley."

"I don't like this place," the younger boy shook his head.

Marty took the lead in front of the boys. All he had to do was get to that forest and he would be back in 1985 again. "Come on!" Marty cried and jogged forward. The children followed, trying to keep up with the faster teenager.

"Wait up!" the younger boy cried.

But Marty was too excited to stop. The sooner he got out of 2020 the happier he'd be. "Hey! Stop!" he heard the older boy cry. No way! He couldn't stop now! He was no longer in control of his feet. As he ran he felt a cold breeze squall across him from overhead. Suddenly, a bright light flashed over him and Marty stopped in his tracks. He put his hand over his eyes and searched above for the source of the glaring light. Floating above him was a squad car, its light shining down on his figure.

"Hold it!" a voice from the car cried. "Don't move! You're under arrest!"

How did the police find him? How'd they know it was him in the bleakness? His head twisted to look over his shoulder. The boys were no longer behind him. Chickens! They took off without him. His only chance was to make it to the forest and the time machine. Marty sprinted forward.

The squad car zoomed down after him and flew above his head, the light still shining on him. It was impossible to get away from the hovering vehicle! Marty glanced up and saw the passenger door bust open. The face of an officer poked out (an awfully familiar face) and aimed an immobilizer gun at Marty. The laser sliced through the air and struck Marty in the back between his shoulder blades. He toppled over and collapsed to the ground. As he did so he felt the walkie-talkie slip from his pocket and bounce to the ground. The shot had stung an incredible pain and his back would ache all night. The rest of his body felt normal until he tried to move his arms and it felt like a dozen knives were being jammed into his muscles. He could move, but it caused so much pain for him to do so that he felt as if he would pass out.

The squad car hovered before Marty's prone body a few inches off the ground. The officer in the passenger's seat jumped down onto the street and strolled up to Marty. The teenager's face rested against the ground, scrapes and gravel covering it, and he could only see the officer's boots as he approached him. He felt the policeman pull him away from the ground so his back was against the street and the officer glared down at him. It was as if he was looking into a mirror and his future son smiled and pointed the immobilizer gun in Marty's direction.

"I don't know who you think you are, but you're in deep shit," Junior grinned.

"McFly! Don't touch him! Sergeant's monitoring every word!" Junior's partner, the guy driving the squad car, stepped out of his door and approached Marty. "Jesus, the guy looks just like you. Some damn good cervo surgery!"

Junior pulled a small device from his belt. "Let's find out who this bojo really is!" Junior grabbed Marty's wrist and yanked it toward the device. Marty bit his lip in order to prevent himself from screaming over the intense pain his arm's muscles felt. Junior pulled open Marty's hand and pushed his thumb forcibly against the plate on the device. Junior looked at the screen and lowered his brow.

"What's it say?" his partner asked.

"It's wrong. It doesn't matter what it says," Junior pushed the device toward his partner and pulled another device from his belt.

His partner looked at the words which filled the screen of the Identification device. "Whoa-ho! How'd he get that?"

"I don't know!" Junior said, annoyed. The device he now held had a needle at one end and an electronic screen display for information to scroll across at the top. Junior thrust the needle into Marty's arm and clicked a button on the device. After a moment, Junior pulled the needle out and looked at the screen. "Blood Type: O. Height: 5' 4". Weight: 145. Age: Seventeen years, seven months and nineteen days."

"Guess that rules out your dad, huh McFly?" Junior's partner said. "How'd this guy get the same prints as your father?"

"I don't know!" Junior shot back. "Let's get this filth to the station and lock him up."

"Hold it, McFly. He's seventeen. Once we file the report he goes to the orphanage," his partner reminded him.

"He doesn't deserve it," Junior said, propping Marty up into a sitting position rather roughly. "He belongs in the Correctional Facility after what he's done."

"That's for the jury to decide. If we don't take him to the orphanage the Serge'll have both our badges! Come on."

Junior's partner kneeled down at Marty's feet and picked each one up between his arms. "Let's get him in the car."

Junior nodded slowly and put the instrument he held away. He grabbed Marty by the shoulders and hoisted him up. They carried him to the squad car and tossed him in the back seat.

"Hope we find those other two," Junior said as he shut the back door and went around the passenger's seat. "But at least I can rest a little easier knowing this impersonator's off the streets."

A moment later, the car had floated into the skyway and was gone. From behind a park bench a round nose poked out and the small boy watched as the car ascended. "What do we do?"

"Nothing," the older boy stood from behind the bench as well. "That guy's in big trouble."

"Shouldn't we help?" the small boy wondered.

"How would we do that?" the older boy demanded.

The young boy walked into the street and picked up the purple walkie-talkie Marty had dropped. He examined at it for a moment and then shrugged his little shoulders.

 Doc hunched before the back end of the time train coupling the boxcar he had managed to purchase (with a bit of coaxing and a wad of dollar bills) to the powerful thruster on the back. He had had to use the DeLorean to tow the boxcar to the forest after successfully purchasing the hovering railroad car which came complete with its own remote control. For the past hour he had been reprogramming the time train's temporal mechanisms in an attempt to allow the boxcar, which he had now finished connecting to the train, to be carried into the present. Now that Doc had succeeded with that chore it would be simple to store the DeLorean inside and carry it back through time.

Doc wasn't even sure why he was bringing the car back with him. Marty's words still floated through his mind: "You never know when you might need a flying car." Well, even if he didn't need it, it would be simple to take it apart. Maybe he'd simply deprogram the hover circuits and sell it in 1985. He definitely would have no use for it in 1888. He'd have no use for many of his modern accessories when he returned to the past (a thought that was not very appealing).

For now, though, all Doc was concerned about was Marty. The scientist stood erect, stretching his throbbing back. He rubbed his greasy hands off on his tan pants and walked to the side of the train. Clara sat in the doorway and watched him as he approached her.

"I think I've waited long enough, Clara," Doc decided. "Marty's been gone for too long. What if he's in serious trouble?"

"I don't know," Clara shook her head. "But I don't think it's very safe for you to go searching for him. What if you're arrested. What will I do? How will I get you free?"

"Don't worry, Clara. I won't let that happen," Doc assured her. "But I have to go. If Marty is in trouble, the sooner I find him, the better."

"Then I'm going, too," Clara climbed down the train's steps. "I won't let you go alone. If you get arrested, we'll be arrested together."

"Clara, please," Doc placed his hands on her arms and pushed her back toward the train. "I need you to watch the train."

"Emmett!" Clara cried. "You can't go alone."

"Clara, listen --" Doc stopped. Clara was now craning her neck to look past him toward the back of the woods. Doc slowly looked over his shoulder. Standing in the underbrush were two boys whom Doc had never seen before. He felt naked, standing there by the anomalous time machine as the two boys stared at him.

"Hi," the smaller boy said shortly.

Doc's eyes bugged out and he was unable to respond to the greeting. Clara approached the boys and kneeled down before them. "Excuse me," she said. "Are you lost?"

The little boy shook his head. "Do you know Marty?"

Clara looked back to Doc and he immediately hustled forward. "How do you know Marty?"

"He said you guys were going away," continued the young one. "And maybe we could go with you."

Doc looked at Clara confoundedly. He looked back to the boys and said: "Where's Marty now?"

"The police got him," the younger boy replied. "They took him away ... to the orphanage."

Doc grabbed his chest. In the past, when he got so worked up, he felt a great strain on his chest. Now, thanks to his body being repaired to its former youth in 2015, he felt no strain, but still had the habit of clutching his chest in expectation of it. "Great Scott!"

"An orphanage?" Clara asked.

"It's a place for children without parents. Orphans," Doc explained.

"Marty's not an orphan," Clara shook her head.

"They take bad kids there, too," said the small child. "If you're not old."

"Under twenty-one," added the older child.

"The orphanages act as juvenile detention centers in 2020 as well," Doc nodded, "though most of them have been banned. Hill Valley's one of the few towns who still has one of these government controlled buildings." He turned back to the younger boy: "Do you know how much security they have?"

"There are polices everywhere," the young boy said. "Like a hundred on each floor!"

"There's not that many, bojo!" the older boy objected. "But there are still a lot."

"We have to get Marty out of there," Doc decided. "I must formulate some sort of ... stratagem to break in and get Marty out!"

"It's not easy," the younger boy said. "It was real tough for us to get out when we ran away."

"You know the layout of the orphanage?" Doc asked.

The younger boy nodded.

"And where it is?" Doc said.

"I don't, but my brother does," the young boy looked to his older sibling.

"Then you can help," Doc determined.

"No way!" the older boy refused. "I'm not going back to that place! I hate it! I'm not going back!"

"What about Marty?" the younger boy asked.

"Who cares?" said the older boy indifferently.

"But Marty said he was going to take us away with his friends," said the younger boy. "And I bet they're not going without him. An' if they don't go anywhere neither can we. Right?"

Doc puzzled for a moment. How could Marty tell these children they would take them back to the present? There had to be some other option. Some way to get Marty out without involving the children. The risks were just too great! But the harder he contemplated, the less transpicuous the problem became. It seemed any other alternatives would be even more perilous.

"Right," Doc finally nodded.

The older boy looked at Doc. "If we help you, then you have to let us come with you. Wherever you're going, we want to come."
Doc looked at Clara. She could tell from his expression that he didn't think it was a very good idea. He couldn't take the boys to the present! But what else could he do? He needed the boys' assistance. Both he and Clara were still wanted for arrest on murder charges! A building filled with police officers on every floor was not a good place for either of them to be seen at under the current circumstances. "All right," Doc nodded to the older boy. "You can come."

The older boy smiled. "Then what do we have to do?"

 The room was dark. Marty opened his eyes and saw nothing but shadows. His muscles felt sore, as if he'd just done twenty reps with a thousand pound barbel. He turned his head slightly, trying to figure out where he was. A dark figure approached him and kneeled down on the ground Marty lay on.

"Mom? Is that you?" Marty asked wearily.

"Relax," the figure said soothingly. "You've been out for two hours."

"Oh, man. I had this terrible nightmare," Marty said slowly. "I dreamed I was being chased by my own son in this dark town and he paralyzed me. It was horrible."

"Well, it's okay now," the voice said. "You're hearing won't be until tomorrow, so you're safe in the orphanage for now."

"Orphanage?" Marty's eyes went wide and he sat straight up, which hurt more than he had thought it would. "Ohhh," he groaned, grabbing at his back where the source of the pain had originated. Now he looked at the figure closely for the first time. It had seemed to sound like his mother, sort of, and the woman he now stared at did have some of her features. "You're ... You're ... Who are you?"

"My name's Marlene," the woman said. "Marlene McFly. My bojo brother brought you in."

"McFly? Marlene? Brother?" Marty was having trouble grasping all this.

Marlene pushed a strand of hair away from her face. "Yeah. He's such a nuke dump."

"Wait a minute," Marty said. "What are you doing here? In an orphanage? You're not an orphan."

"Don't have to be," Marlene stood. "About a week ago I was caught jaywalking. It wasn't a big deal, but there was a vid on the street corner. I got sentenced to a couple of months."

"Jaywalking?" Marty was amazed. "A couple of months? Jeez."

"You've got it worse," Marlene said. "My brother said you palsied him. That's, like, thirty years."

"Man ..." Marty said under his breath. "Laws sure are strict here."

"Tell me about it," Marlene shrugged her broad shoulders. "I mean, jaywalking is such an archaic law! The only way you'll get hit is if someone lands on you and someone'd have to be pretty tranked to do that!"

Marty tried to stand, but his muscles were still spasming and it was difficult for him to move. The room he was in was very small and it was completely empty except for a bucket in one corner and a barred window. Marty finally raised himself up with much effort and walked to the window. He looked out and saw that they were at least ten stories high.

"This is heavy," Marty muttered.

Marty felt his left wrist and noticed a metal bracelet of some sort was clasped around it. A green light on the bracelet blinked and it looked very technical. He turned and looked at Marlene. She, too, wore the same bracelet and Marty assumed it was some sort of tracking device used so the police could keep tabs on the prisoners in case they tried to escape or something.

He walked slowly to the only door in the room. There was no doorknob and Marty pushed against the door, hoping it would prop open. No luck, naturally. Outside the door he heard a noise and he placed his ear against the cold metal door to listen.

"Someone's coming," Marlene whispered to Marty.

Before he had a chance to react, the door was flung open and struck Marty on the head. He fell backward, in a heap, to the floor, rubbing the bruise on his head. Marty Junior now stood in the doorway, sneering down at Marty.

"What are you doing?" Junior demanded.

"Relax, Marty," Marlene said to her brother. "He's not doing anything."

"Velk it, Marlene!" Junior commanded. "This guy looks almost exactly like me and he's got dad's prints, or at least his I.D. programmed into them. I want some answers!"

"You're such a bojo! You think that bad cop act's fooling anyone?" Marlene asked.

"What're you defending this guy for?" Junior demanded. "He's a lobo! He palsied me! He stole dad's prints!"

"I don't know!" Marlene returned. "It's just ... I feel like I know him."

"That's because he looks just like me!" cried Junior. "How'd you get this done? And better yet, why?"

Marty opened his mouth to reply, then quickly snapped it shut again. There was no way he could explain himself. It was best if he just shut up and didn't say anything.

"What? Now you're not going to talk?" Junior demanded. "Huh? You were pretty chatty when you stunned me! So how come you're not talking now?"

"What do you want me to say?" Marty finally spoke.

"I want to know the truth!" Junior commanded. "What are you after? What do you want with me and my family?"

"The truth?" Marty asked. "All right. I am your father, Junior. Your father from 1985, before I'm even married and have kids. I came here to the future in a time machine and unless you let me return to my own time the entire universe could be ruined."

Junior's expression was serious at first as he considered the words. Then, his solemn face changed to a smile and Junior started to laugh. "Yeah! And that's why you look like me instead of my father! Get real!"

"So you have a good family resemblance!" Marty squeaked out meekly.

"You can say whatever you want, but the facts are: You have illegal finger-plants, you impersonated an officer, you palsied an officer, you abetted two accused murderers, and resisted arrest! I'd be surprised if they don't ject you by the end of the day!"

"Ject?" Marty wondered.

"Inject. You know, lethal injection?" Marlene replied.

Junior turned his back. "Your hearing's later this morning. Seven o' clock. I'll be back then. And do something right for a change, Marlene, and keep an eye on this filth!"

Junior left, slamming the door loudly behind him.

"Great," Marty sighed. "What am I going to do?"

"Why do you have my father's prints?" Marlene walked over to Marty.

"I don't think there's any way for you to understand," Marty lowered his head. "I wish that there was ..."

Marlene sat on her knees and looked at Marty's face. "You do kind of look like those old pictures of my dad. And everyone's always saying how Marty Junior looks just like dad when he was Junior's age. Where are you from?"

Marty looked at Marlene's solemn and earnest face and replied slowly. "A time before you and your brother were born. Before your father and your mother were married. A time that I used to hate ... but now I'd do anything to get back there. Because it's my time, and that's where I belong."

Marlene remained silent for a long moment. Then, after processing everything Marty had said, she finally spoke: "Well, whoever you are, everything will be okay. Right? You'll be okay. You'll get home. That's the place all of us want to find. I think we all get there one way or another. Don't worry. You'll get there, too."

Marty looked at his future daughter and smiled. Her face was filthy, as if she hadn't bathed for some time. She wore a dirty blue jump suit, obviously the standard garb of the orphanage's prisoners. He wondered what his future self thought about all this. About his son being a cop and his daughter being in prison. It wasn't a point in his life he was now looking forward to.

"How can one man have such a prick for a son and a sweetheart for a daughter?" Marty smiled at her.

She shrugged. "Some guys are just lucky I guess."

"Your parents should be proud," Marty said.

"Doubt it," Marlene shook her head. "I don't think they really care about me much. We had sort of a falling out. Sometimes I wish I could go back and undo it. It's been real rough since then, you know? Have you ever felt that way?"

"All the time." Marty replied.

 Marty was becoming restless. It had been an hour since he awoke. It was almost dawn and with morning came his hearing. Marlene slept in a corner of the room on the cold floor. He had secretly promised himself not to let the falling out she had spoken of happen. It just wasn't worth it and, even though they had just met, he felt like he knew her ... and loved her like he loved his sister and brother.

He would have given anything to return home to his family now. Even to his brother, who didn't seem to believe in his abilities. He had never seemed to think much of Marty, now that he thought about it, but he supposed all older brothers were that way. Just like Junior with Marlene and the boys he had met earlier. When he was little, Marty had always tagged along with his brother and Dave had always hated it. His mother made Dave take Marty along to the movies with his friends and, while Marty wanted to be around his older brother twenty-four/seven, Dave wanted nothing to do with his younger sibling. A few years older now, they were close, but Marty didn't look up to him as a role model anymore.

In the old 1985, the one Marty remembered, Dave worked at a Burger King. His parents hadn't been able to afford to send him to college and so it seemed his brother's life was really going down hill. Marty really didn't look up to him then. Now, in the foreign 1985 (at least to Marty), Dave worked as an Assistant Retail Sales Manager (whatever that was). He seemed less like his cooler, older brother and more like his original pencil pusher father (albeit he didn't take the same abuse). Still, he wasn't someone Marty, with his creative personality and his dreams for musical stardom, could look up to. He felt like the odd-man out in his family.

As far as he remembered, Marty had always looked to Doc as a father figure. He was the one who had always pushed him to go after his dream and achieve his goals and he related more with the Doc. Doc was always doing something new and, although Marty did not know for what purpose his inventions served (or had any understanding of what they did), Marty felt that, like himself, Doc had a creative passion and a drive to accomplish something. Every now and then Doc would talk about some big invention he was cooking up that would replace the automobile, the telephone and the printing press as the greatest invention of all time. Though Marty had his doubts as to whether Doc would succeed (now he was certain he had), he had always looked up to his friend as someone who was always reaching for the stars and never gave up hope no matter what obstacles barred his way to success.

All inventions had their drawbacks and every successful invention changed the world somehow. But Doc's time machine could really change the world by altering the future and that was dangerous. In the wrong hands such a device could completely screw up history. But with Doc looking after the machine Marty was certain they would have no problems (none that Doc couldn't find some way to solve anyway). Still, Marty wouldn't be surprised if Doc tore the whole time train apart when they returned to 1985 and put an end to time traveling for good. Marty wouldn't blame him either. After all the problems they were forced to correct and all the paradoxes they nearly caused, Marty was ready to put the proverbial fork in time travelling himself.

Morning was arriving now and the sky was no longer black, but a light blue with a beautiful pink tint. It might be the last morning he'd see. If Doc was going to save him (and he wasn't even sure he knew where Marty was) he would have to do it soon. What if something did happen to Marty in 2020? What would his family say if he just disappeared one day? What about Jennifer? Come on, Doc! You've gotten me out of worse jams than this in the past (or the future)!

Marty looked at the door hopefully, expecting it to explode open and have Doc standing there, demanding that Marty hurry up so they could return to the present. But the door didn't open. Time was running out.
In a few hours, Marty would be history.

Literally.

The train accelerated through the overcast sky pulling the hovering boxcar behind it. Clara sat on one side of the back seat, her buckle securely strapped around her waist. The boys sat across from her, sitting on their knees, their backs to her and their faces pressed up against the clear window on the train's left side, staring down.

"This is so smiling!" the younger boy cheered. "I've never been in a flying train before!"

Clara unbuckled her seat belt and walked cautiously, half-stumbling from the rough ride, up to Doc at the front of the train. "Are you sure we're doing the right thing? With the boys and all?"

Doc shook his head. "Perhaps not, but it's still the safest plan. If you and I were seen in the vicinity of that building we'd be arrested immediately. But the boys won't seem out of place in the orphanage and if they know the layout they should have no problem staying out of trouble and finding Marty."

"I hope so," Clara said reluctantly.

Doc had spent the last hour collecting as much information on the Eastwood Ravine Orphanage as he could find. He hadn't found much. In fact, he had only found one newspaper article on it. It had claimed that the children were being abused but there was no evidence to support the claim. A short history also noted that the orphanage had been a Correctional Facility forty years ago and, before that, a jail from the late 1800's that had been rebuilt from a small adobe prison that came to existence in 1779. Doc had only skimmed through the article, but apparently, thirty-five years in the future, much more information on Hill Valley's past had been discovered and Doc planned on reading the article more closely when he was home. By that point Doc had given up on freeing Marty alone. Now he was certain he would need the boys' assistance.

"Now, do you remember everything I told you?" Doc asked Clara.

"I think so. Tell me again, one more time," Clara suggested.

"All right," Doc said. "First I'll drop the boys off at the orphanage. Then I'll take the DeLorean and wait for them on the ground. You'll have the train waiting for us in the sky. Do you remember how to control the acceleration?"

Clara looked to the "ACCELERATE" lever and nodded. "I just push forward on that lever."

"Right," Doc nodded. "When I give you the signal over the walkie-talkie," here Doc pulled out Marty's walkie-talkie which he had repaired before they left and set it on the main control panel, "push forward on the lever. I'll have the time circuits on and all you should have to worry about is getting the train up to 88 miles per hour. Now, if for some reason I don't make it to the train, what do you do?"

"I leave without you," Clara gulped. "But I don't think that's a very good idea."

"You know how to change the destination time?" Doc asked her.

Clara looked at the destination panel which now read: November 4, 1985 4:00 AM. "Yes."

"If I don't make it, return to 1888," Doc said. "Once there, bury the time machine in the appointed cavern in the Eastwood Ravine marked on the map." Doc gestured to the map he had placed on the main panel. "I've left the cloaking device in the storage compartment. This way the train should remain unscathed. If I manage to escape, I'll know where to go to find the train and I'll come up with some other plan to free Marty. Understand?"

"I don't know if I can do all that," Clara said slowly. "After I get back to 1888, that is. Can't I just return to 2020 to get you?"

"It would be too dangerous," Doc shook his head. "I'd prefer that I know your safe in 1888, awaiting my return."

"But how will I know you're safe?"

Doc remained silent for a moment. "That's just a precautionary measure, Clara, should something go wrong. It's best to be prepared for all the jeopardous possibilities. There's no telling what may happen."

Clara nodded, understanding. Still, she'd hate to be separated from her husband even if it was in her present time. Even then it wouldn't feel like home, not without Emmett with her. Clara returned to her seat.

"You boys should sit down," she warned. "It's not very safe for you to be sitting like that."

"We'll be okay!" the younger boy returned.

Clara buckled her seat belt once more, strapping it tightly against her slender waist. Doc, watching the "FRONT VIEW" screen, soon saw a tall, red brick building appear. It was very plane and obscure with many barred windows dotting the walls. Behind it could be seen the Eastwood Ravine a few miles back. The older boy had left his brother's side and approached behind Doc, looking over his shoulder at the screen. When he had seen the building appear he felt a familiar nausea attack his stomach.

"That's it," the boy whispered.

Doc steered the train to the roof of the building. He maneuvered the time machine so it was hovering just inches from the roof and locked the hover lever in place. "Come on, boys. Let's get this over with." Doc stood and headed to the doors and opened them.

The doors swung open and Doc stepped out of the train, the two boys following right behind. "You won't have much time."

Doc went to the back of the boxcar attached to the train and pulled its door open. Inside sat the DeLorean Marty Senior had generously given to Doc. "I'll be waiting at the front entrance on the ground in the DeLorean. When you find Marty, meet me there."

The older boy made a funny face at the car. It wasn't very alluring and seemed very bulky compared to modern vehicles. He was beginning to wonder what part of the world this aged stranger, his wife, and the teenager, Marty, had come from.

Doc pulled the electronic switchblade from his pocket and extended it toward the boys. "Use this to set Marty free. Do you know how to use it?"

The older boy accepted the device. "I do."

Doc looked at the boy quizzically for a moment and then shook his head. "All right." Doc led them to an air conditioning vent which protruded from the building's roof. He kneeled down and pulled the slitted covering from the vent. Doc peered down the shaft for a moment and said: "Do you think you can sneak down there?"

The older boy nodded.

"Okay," Doc stood. "According to Marty Senior, from what he got out of his son when he called him this morning, Marty was taken to the tenth floor. Start your search there. If you're spotted, abort the mission and return to ground level so we can make our escape. Got it?"

"Yeah," the older boy replied.

"All right. Good luck," Doc said.

He stepped up to the train and watched as the older boy slowly climbed into the vent and disappeared. The smaller boy seemed more reluctant. Doc gave him a thumbs up and the boy hesitantly slid down the vent, watching Doc intently as he did so. After the boys had disappeared into the vent Doc climbed into the train's doorway and looked to Clara.

"Ready?" he asked her.

Clara nodded and moved to the front of the train and sat in the conductor's seat. "Just push the acceleration lever when you give me the signal."

"Right," Doc nodded and patted the side pocket of his pants which held his own walkie talkie.

He turned to leave and, as he prepared to exit, Clara said: "I love you."

Doc nodded without looking back. "Don't worry. Everything will be fine."

He stepped back out of the train, pushed his thumb against the plate and the doors slowly swung shut. Doc went around to the boxcar and climbed in. Marty's destiny was now in the hands of two innocent boys Doc had just met a few hours before. Doc approached the DeLorean and opened the gull-wing door. After this was all put to rest, Doc promised himself this would be the end of time travel. It was still as unpredictable as ever. Doc climbed into the DeLorean, started the engine, and backed the hovering vehicle out of the boxcar.

Now all that was left to do was wait and hope the boys succeeded. Otherwise, the entire fanfare could become quite problematic.
The DeLorean floated away from the roof and descended to the street outside the front entrance of the orphanage below.

 The older boy slid down the shaft and landed on the metal floor of the vent. His brother collapsed on top of him a moment later and the older boy pushed him away.

"Get off!" he commanded.

The older boy kept on his arms and knees and raised his head as high as it would go without touching the roof of the vent.

"Are you sure you know what you're doing?" the younger boy asked.

"Yeah," the older boy snapped. He hoped so anyway. It was really a big risk to take, returning to this awful place. In fact, he had toyed with the idea for a long while to take his brother and abandon the cooky old man and his wife. It just hadn't seemed worth the risk.

But his younger brother seemed very concerned about the older boy they had met earlier. Not that he cared what his brother thought. But the teenaged boy had appeared sincere about helping him and his brother, and the older boy guessed it wouldn't be right to abandon him. And it may be their only chance to get out of this odious town, even perhaps the state, and maybe start a new life somewhere. Maybe find a family.

The older boy almost laughed at the idea. Who would want them? Two filthy, runaway children? Nobody wanted them. Not even the state. But the older boy felt he and his brother just had to get out of there. There was nothing left. There had to be a better place, with a family who would love them and take care of them. That family had to be out there somewhere.

And he was determined to find them.

The older boy led the way through the vent, his brother crawling behind him. They came across another shaft which extended down to the top floor's ceiling. The older boy peered down into it, but did not see anything from his position. He slowly lowered himself down the shaft and, resting on the covering, peered through the slits. He saw no signs of guards and so began kicking at the covering in order to jar it loose.

After a few attempts, the covering slid off and clanked to the floor. The boy fell just behind it and sprawled across the hard flat. He looked around the hall he was now in and saw it was empty. The walls and floor were a pale turquoise and the doors lined across each wall were made of shining metal. The older boy now looked up to the vent he had fallen through and saw his younger brother peering down at him tentatively.

"Come on!" he whispered to him. "Let's go!"

Slowly the young boy slid down the vent and dropped the seven feet to the floor, his legs collapsing under him as he met the bottom. His brother helped him to his feet and pulled him against the wall.

"We have to get to the stairs," he told his brother.

After a pause, they both ran, the older boy leading his brother by the arm, and made it across the hall to the door which led to the stairs. This was not the first time he had explored the ominous building. He opened the door and they both raced down the stairs, floor by floor, the older boy glancing at each sign indicating the floor number until they reached the one that read: "FLOOR 10". Here the older boy peered through the door which led to the hall and looked around. This hall as well was empty and he pulled his brother in. There were many doors on either side of the walls, twenty on each at least, and having Marty's location narrowed to just the one floor was still quite a task.

"This had better be worth it," the older boy said under his breath.

"Let's go," the younger boy begged. "I don't like it here."

"I know," the older boy agreed and he led his brother to the first door. "Marty!" he called. "Are you in there?"

The boy pulled out the switchblade and placed the pick against the plate. After a moment, the device beeped, indicating it had finished its work and the boy placed his thumb against the plate and the door swung open. He peered inside and saw a room of about thirty children crammed together, attempting to sleep. Quickly, he swung the door shut.

"That's not it," he said, and went to the next door, his brother following on his heels. "This might take a while."

 Marty was half-asleep, still aware of the happenings around him, but too groggy to comprehend them. He had been sleeping for less than an hour: a restless sleep. He had been tossing and turning, unable to shift into complete slumber. A loud, jarring noise aroused him into consciousness and after a moment he slowly sat up, rubbing the back of his neck. His muscles felt much looser now, though his neck was stiff as hell.

Marty stood, looking around the room which was now lit by the blue-gray sky, the sun slowly rising over the horizon a world away. Dawn had come, which meant Marty's final judgement was close at hand. Now Marty heard the sound again, registering it in his mind for the first time, and walked apprehensively to the door and placed his ear against it. What the hell was that?

Another noise. It sounded like doors being shut over and over again in succession. Marty wondered if the officers were checking up on the prisoners. He looked over to Marlene who still slept in a corner of the room. The noise didn't seem to bother her at all. Maybe she was used to it by now, but Marty was still uncertain how to feel. What if they were coming early for him? He would make a break for it, Marty decided. As soon as they opened the door, he'd run like hell. It was his only chance to escape. He probably wouldn't make it and the thought of being paralyzed by that futuristic gun again was not appealing, but he had to at least try.

Marty stepped away from the door, awaiting his fate, clenching and unclenching his fists tightly. Another noise, this one sounded very close. A long moment passed and then his door swung open a crack and he saw a tiny face peer in. A face he recognized.

"Hey!" the older boy cried. "I thought we'd never find you! Come on!"

"Kid?" Marty was in disbelief. "What are you doing here?"

"Come on! We have to go. Now!" the child ordered and Marty didn't hesitate any longer.

He ran to the door and opened it wide. He prepared to step out and then paused, looking back into the room at his future daughter, curled up in a corner of the room, alone and forlorn. The future isn't written yet, Marty reminded himself. She'll be okay. I'll make sure this doesn't happen.

"Come on!" the older boy urged. "Let's go already!"

Marty nodded and sprinted away from the room, the door clacking shut behind him. The boys led him down the hall.

"How'd you find me?" Marty asked.

"Who cares?" the older boy said shortly. "Let's just get out of here!"

"Hold it!" they saw the door to the stairs swing open and an officer stepped through. The last officer Marty wanted to see in the year 2020. "Get down on the ground!" Marty Junior commanded and reached for his immobilizer gun.

Marty pulled the kids behind him. "Listen to me! You have to let me go! Your future depends on it!"

"My future?" Junior scoffed. "It's your future that's in danger! Now get down!"

Junior aimed the gun at Marty and walked slowly toward him. "Get down or I'll shoot!"

Just then two officer banged through the stair's doors, aiming their guns ahead. "Everyone down!"

"Don't worry, I got them!" Junior smiled diabolically.

"No!" Marty protested. "He's the impostor! He stole my gun!"

The two officers looked at each other and then back at Marty and his apparent doppelganger. His son had a longer face and a small scar on his forehead, but the officers couldn't remember if Junior had always looked that way or not. The differences were too subtle.

"You can't be buying this!" Junior objected. "Thumb me!"

Junior swung his fist toward the officers. Immediately they grabbed his arm and twisted it behind his back, taking the action as a sign of aggression. "Hold still!" one of them commanded.

"Let me go! You've got the wrong guy!" Junior commanded.

Marty grabbed the boys wrists and pulled them past the officers and down the hall. "Thanks, officers."

Marty busted through the door to the stairs as the officers looked on in disbelief. "Let me go!" Junior commanded.

"Thumb him," one of the officers released Junior and let the other officer hold him. "I'm going after them."

Marty and the boys sprinted down the stairs. "Where are we going?"

"Your friend's waiting for us on ground level," the older boy explained.

"Doc?" Marty knew that it was. Only he could have developed such an elaborate escape, though at this point it seemed like a simple "run-for-your-life" break out.

The three stumbled down the stairs until they reached the final floor and they rushed into the main entrance of the orphanage. It looked like a normal business from here, a reception's desk in the middle of the floor and art hanging on the walls. But above them, Marty knew, there were thousands of suffering children and young adults. This place was one piece of the future Marty wished he hadn't witnessed. One of many others.

A security guard at the front desk saw them and started after them, shouting: "Halt!"

But Marty and the boys rushed straight for the front door and exploded into the early morning daylight. Marty looked around and, after a moment, saw Doc; he was sitting inside a glistening DeLorean. Doc threw open the passenger's side door. "Get in!" he commanded.

Marty ran for the DeLorean, pulling the two boys behind him, but a police car floated down from the sky and intercepted his path. Marty immediately veered away from the car and began running across the sidewalk, past the orphanage. The walk led him into a small neighborhood. Running as fast as he could, pulling the smaller and less mobile children behind him, both boys stumbling and tripping as they tried to keep up, Marty came across a convenience store. He now noticed a bike rack in front of the store, only the rack held hoverboards in the slacks instead of bicycles. Marty rushed forward and pulled out the nearest hoverboard, a pink one just like the one he had used in 2015. He snapped off the support rod and tossed the board to the ground. It dipped, nearly scraping the ground, then floated up a few inches above the ground where it remained level.

"Hang on!" Marty picked the boys up in each arm and jumped on the hoverboard. Holding them against him, Marty began kicking at the pavement.

A police car flew above him and Marty's eyes rolled up and he saw the door fly open and a cop aim an immobilizer gun at him.

"Jeez," Marty bent his knees and leaned backward to make a left as the cop fired. The shot missed as Marty just managed to swerve out of the way. He had almost toppled off the board - the weight of the boys was throwing him off balance - but he managed to stay upright.

The DeLorean now flew in behind him and moved to his right side. Doc threw open his door and cried: "The kids!"

Marty handed the boys to Doc one at a time, first the older one, then the smaller one. When it came Marty's turn to enter the DeLorean he found that a few feet in front of him a building was approaching fast. He didn't have time to put the brakes on the hoverboard. When Doc noticed this he immediately swerved the car up and over Marty' head to the left and the DeLorean floated onto its side, the left side facing the ground. The passenger's door flung open as Doc maneuvered the vehicle.

Marty thought quickly. He ducked down low on the hoverboard and then, as the wall of the building approached, he reached his hands down and, using his arms for support, he shifted his legs onto the side of the wall so the hoverboard now floated across the wall's surface.

This lasted for only a moment as Marty spun in a circle across the wall and dove head first toward the ground. At that time the DeLorean swooped under his form, its right side still facing up and Marty plunged through the passenger's door. As soon as he found himself in the DeLorean, Marty pulled the hoverboard from his foot and closed his door. "Go, Doc!"

The DeLorean shifted into the sky quickly as the police surrounded it. Marty watched with amazement as the car floated toward the roof of the orphanage.

There the train appeared, hovering above the roof with the boxcar attached. Boxcar? How long had Marty been out anyway? The DeLorean slowed as it entered the boxcar and Doc clicked the hover circuits off once they were fully inside. Doc climbed out of the DeLorean hastily and slid the boxcar's door shut. He pulled his walkie-talkie from his pocket by the antennae and called into it: "Go, Clara!"

Clara was shocked by the sudden yawp from the walkie-talkie. She had heard the commotion in the back of the train, but she wasn't sure what to expect. Her nerves were pulled to pieces as she reached her jittery hand out and pushed forward on the "ACCELERATE" lever.

The train chugged forward very slowly. Too slowly for Marty's preference. It was time they got out of 2020 for good. And it seemed the boys were coming along for the ride. He had instinctively brought them along to insure their safety. Whether that had been Doc's intention or not, Marty wasn't sure, but it definitely didn't seem right to leave them behind.

The train was starting to gain speed when Doc heard Clara's worried voice call over his walkie-talkie: "Emmett! There are deputies everywhere!"

Three squad cars had almost immediately ascended upon the train as the DeLorean had flown inside the boxcar. Now they had passed the laggard locomotive and had flown a good length in front of it. The cars spun around so that now they were facing the oncoming train.

Now Clara saw them do something she had no idea what to make of. One of the cars threw open its door and tossed out in front of their vehicles a hovering device which blinked a red light. After a moment, a long strip of blue light emerged from the device and extended for five yards.

She didn't even know how to explain the thing to Emmett, so she continued pushing forward on the acceleration lever and the train's bottom skidded over the light. Almost immediately after passing through the light the train began to drop. Its front end tilted forward and it began to sink through the sky, slowly at first, but soon it was gaining more speed, hurtling faster and faster toward the ground below. Clara was thrust forward against the main panel as the train nosedived. What had she done wrong?

"Clara! What's happening?" Doc demanded over the walkie-talkie.

But Clara didn't hear him. Her walkie-talkie had tumbled out of her grasp and all she could do was watch the "FRONT VIEW" screen as the ground ascended upon the train.

"Doc, what's going on?" Marty poked his head out of the driver's door to look at Doc.

The DeLorean had collided with the front end of the boxcar and Doc was now grasping to the gull-winged door's rear. The driver's door snapped shut from the force and Marty pushed it open and cried again: "What's going on, Doc? Why are we falling?"

Doc shook his head and, after a moment, said: "They must have thrown down a hoverstrip! It deactivates the hover circuits!"

"Great," Marty said under his breath and the DeLorean's door snapped shut on him again.

Doc slowly made his way to the right side of the car and pulled himself into the passenger's seat and snapped the door shut. The boys huddled in the area between the passenger's seat and the dashboard and embraced each other tightly, terrified. They were supposed to be gaining a new life, not losing one! Why had the older boy agreed to this? No matter how bad they had it, he didn't want to die! Even if he and his brother had to be alone forever, he still didn't want to die for a long, long time!

Clara was panicked. What could she do? She looked at the speedometer and saw that they were descending toward the ground at 80 miles per hour. But the ground was not far off now.

The speedometer numbers accelerated faster now and when the instrument read 84, the ground was thirty yards away. Clara decided she had to do something. Calling up all her courage, she quickly grabbed hold of the steering wheel as she had seen Emmett do so many times and spun it to the right.

The train lurched in that direction, the left side now facing the approaching ground, giving the train more distance between it and the street below. The train was still accelerating through the sky, not toward the ground any longer, but parallel with it, still dropping toward the ground. 85. Clara was thrust to the side of the train. 86. She stared out the window. The train was beginning to rotate toward the right again and now Clara ducked against the main panel, expecting the impact. 87

Marty and Doc grasped the headboard of the DeLorean. They had felt the DeLorean lift into the air and crash into the boxcar's side. The boys had toppled over Marty and grasped to his pants legs for life. Doc felt his stomach jump as the exterior of the train was enveloped in blue light, temporal displacement moments away from occurring.

88.

Boom! Boom! Kaboom! The locomotive appeared in a resplendent flash of light. The train was now only fifteen yards from the ground as it broke the time barrier and continued to shoot forward, dipping downward. The train revolved to its normal position, its wheels facing down, and its nose dipping to the ground. The front of the train touched the ground first, scraping violently against the pavement, kicking up chunks of gravel and the front plate becoming bent and deformed. Sparks flew in all directions.

As the train hurtled above the street, it remained aloft, floating just inches from the ground. The train slowly evened out to become parallel with the ground so that now the nose lifted up and was free of the pavement. The train began to slow, the machine programmed to automatically decelerate after temporal displacement.

Clara finally pulled herself from her stationary position under the main panel, stumbled to her feat and turned to the controls. Looking at the speedometer, she saw that the locomotive was slowing to 50 miles per hour, but now the machine had advanced off of the street and was rushing toward the Eastwood Ravine a few miles away!

Clara immediately spun the steering wheel and the train swung to the right, spinning in a circle. It began spinning a second time but only went half-way around as the train's speed finally decelerated to 0, the distance between the edge of the ravine and the back end of the boxcar now only a few yards.

Clara clutched tightly to the main panel. When she had spun the wheel, she had almost been thrown against the side of the train again, but she had managed to hold on. Her head was spinning from the wild ride and she slowly stumbled to the back of the train and collapsed in the seat that stood against the back wall, holding her throbbing head in her hands and closing her eyes.

The DeLorean rested against the boxcar's front-right side, its front and back left wheels hovering above the floor a bit, the car tilted and resting slightly on its right side. Marty inched his way to the front door and, as his weight approached, the car's left wheels touched the ground with a thump! Marty pushed open the gull-wing door. The boys still clung to his legs and he pulled their clenched hands away from his pants and said: "It's okay. We're all right."

The boys finally let go and Marty slowly stepped out. He surveyed the DeLorean as he did so. A good many dents and scratches had now appeared on its sides as it had rattled around in the boxcar.

"Come on," Marty extended his hands to the boys and helped each one out of the car. Then he peered into the DeLorean and looked at Doc whose head was rested against the top of the seat as he stared at the DeLorean's roof. "You okay, Doc?"

Doc nodded slowly. "Fine," he murmured. Finally he found the strength to climb out of the DeLorean through the driver's side door and join Marty and the boys. "Everyone okay?"

"We're okay. Right, boys?" Marty feigned a smile.

The boy's eyes were wide and they stared at the beat up DeLorean, unable to speak.

"We're okay," Marty repeated. "How about Clara?"

Doc reached back into the DeLorean and grabbed his walkie-talkie. "Clara, are you okay? Clara? Clara, are you there?"

Static responded and Doc looked to Marty with worried eyes.

"We'd better go check on her," Marty hurriedly suggested.

Doc rushed to the boxcar's large door and pulled it open. The dark early morning stared back at them. Doc hopped down from the boxcar and scurried to the train. He pushed his thumb against the plate and the doors swung open. He climbed up the steps and peered in. "Clara? Are you all right?"

He climbed in all the way and saw his wife sitting in the back seat. Doc approached Clara and sat down in the seat beside her, turning sideways to look at her.

"Are you okay, Clara?" he reached for her hand.

Clara whipped her hand away and stared at Doc with affliction, tears bubbling over her eyelids. "Never again! Understand, Emmett? I don't want to do this ever again! When we return to 1888, that's it! No more time travel! Done! Forever!"

"Clara," Doc said soothingly.

"Forever!" Clara repeated insistently and placed her head back in her hands.

Doc placed his arms around Clara's shoulders and pulled her closer. "Yes. All right, Clara. I promise. No more time travel. I promise."

Marty had coaxed the boys out of the boxcar now. They had been so terrified by the ordeal that they were afraid to leave. As far as they were concerned, the police were still right behind them.

"I don't want to go back there! I don't want to got back there!" the younger boy kept repeating, shaking his head back and forth.

"It's okay," Marty told him. "We're okay now. You won't have to go back to the orphanage."

Marty lifted each boy out of the boxcar and set them on the bedewed grass. He led them to the train's doors, both looking around in wonder of where the police had disappeared to. Marty peered in and looked at Doc holding Clara in his arms.

"Everything okay, Doc?" Marty asked.

Doc nodded. "Turn the hover circuits off."

Marty climbed in and approached the main panel. He placed his hand on the hover lever and asked: "This one?" Doc nodded and Marty pushed the lever forward and the train finally lowered onto its wheels.

"Jeez, Doc, what the hell happened there?" Marty said.

The boys now climbed up the train's steps and entered the train. They were more confused than anyone. "Shouldn't we go before the police find us?" the older boy asked.

Doc released his hold on Clara and stood up. Some explanations were in order. He began pacing. "The police aren't going to find us, boys," Doc finally said.

"How do you know?" the older boy demanded. "I thought --"

"Listen," Marty kneeled next to the boys. "This is kind of hard to explain ... but this is a time machine. This train can take us to different time periods. We're not in the year 2020 anymore."

"We're not?" the younger boy looked at Marty with interest.

"No," Marty returned. "We're in the year 1985. The police don't even know we did anything here. Hell, that orphanage doesn't even exist yet!"

The older boy shook his head in protest. "No. That's impossible! How could we be in the past?"

"Here," Marty said and pulled out his wallet. "I'll prove it." He took out his driver's license and shoved it in the boy's face. "See the year I was born? 1968. That means in 2020 I'd have to be ... fifty-three! Do I look fifty-three?"

The younger boy shook his head. "You're not that old."

"That doesn't prove anything! This is crazy!" the older boy returned.

"Listen, you can believe whatever you want," Marty stood up and looked at his scientist companion. "Doc? We are in 1985, right?"
Doc nodded. He had felt temporal displacement take place and now he walked up to the control panel to make sure. The present time indeed said: November 4, 1985 4:06 AM.

"Yes, we are," Doc confirmed.

"Jesus, I thought we'd be smashed to pieces," Marty said, remembering the train's sudden fall. "Good thing the hover circuits kicked back in, huh?"

"Well, actually, the hover circuits have a fail-safe device that allows the vehicle to hover a few feet above the ground at all times," Doc said. "That's why the police didn't have any problems with using the hoverstrip. They knew that the train wouldn't actually crash."

"That's a relief," Marty said. "Good thing we got out of there when we did, though."

Doc nodded an agreement.

"Wait! Are you saying that we're really in the past?" the older boy demanded.

Marty looked at Doc and then back to the boy. "Yeah."

The older boy grinned. "Smiling! That's great! Now we never have to worry about that stinky orphanage or the police ever again!"

"Yeah!" the younger boy cheered. "Yeah, yeah!"

Doc's eyes went wide. The children couldn't stay, that was for sure, but it wouldn't be easy to convince them to return to 2020. Doc took Marty by the arm and led him aside.

"Listen, Doc, I know what you're going to say, but what can we do?" Marty said. "Maybe we can, I don't know, set them up with a family or something. Get them into a real orphanage."

Doc shook his head. "No. There are too many dangers! We can't have children from a future that might not exist running around in the present!"

"What do you mean a future that might not exist?" Marty asked.

"I told you that the future isn't written," Doc explained. "That 2020 reality might not even exist. It is merely a reflection of what the future will be like if every person in the world continues on the same path they are headed now and that's not one hundred percent certain to happen. Those children might not even exist thirty-five years from now!"

Marty looked over Doc's shoulder at the boys. "They look pretty real to me, Doc."

"Marty, you know I can't allow it," Doc shook his head. "There are too many possible complications. I'll have to bring them back to the future."

Doc returned to the main panel and clicked on the time circuits. Nothing happened. He turned the knob again and still the flux capacitor had not been activated. "Damn!" Doc sighed. "The main panel must have been damaged when the nose hit the ground. Something must have been jarred loose."

"What are you going to do?" Marty asked.

"I won't be able to repair the hover circuits, but they should remain active so the train can float a few feet above ground. This way we can still use it for time travel. I'll begin repairs on the time circuits at once. The train should remain undisturbed here, at the edge of the ravine, out of sight."

Marty spun around and peered out the doorway. A few miles away he could see the town of Hill Valley, but at this area of the ravine there were no buildings. He hoped Doc was right about the train remaining undisturbed.

"Once the repairs are complete," Doc continued, "I'll take the kids back to the future and -"

"And you and Clara can get your stuff from the past and move back here," Marty grinned.

"Uhh, right," Doc said uncertainly. He looked to Clara who had her head resting on her clasped hands, as if pondering deeply. "Marty, about that ..."

"Listen, Doc, if you need any help, I can come by after school tomorrow," Marty suggested. "How long will it take to fix the train?"
Doc didn't speak for a long moment and then said: "I'm not sure. I'll have to take a closer look after I collect the tools I'll need from home. Let's go."

Marty and the boys climbed out of the train first. Doc helped Clara up and took her in his arms.

"Okay?" Doc asked.

Clara slowly regained her composure. She never wanted to see the train again. The smell was the worst. It left a rancid smell after the machine had traveled through time. It was faint, but it seemed to nauseate her more and more each time she smelled it. She wanted to be rid of the damned thing for good.

Doc led her around to the boxcar and stared at it for a moment, his eyes filled with curiosity. Then he pulled something from his pocket which looked like a remote control for a toy race car, complete with a steering wheel and lever for the gas. "Looks like the boxcar's hover circuits might still work," Doc said, clicking a lever back. The boxcar lifted higher into the air and then dropped back to the ground, unable to go a far distance while still being coupled to the train. "If something does happen to the train's hovers circuits I can always use the boxcar's technology to make repairs," Doc explained. "Though I don't see the plausibility in that."

Now Doc returned the control to his pocket and stepped into the boxcar. Clara and Marty and the boys watched as he backed the DeLorean out and lowered it to the ground. He threw open the passenger door.

"Let's see if we can't squeeze everyone in," Doc said.

"What about the kids?" Marty asked.

"They'll have to come, too," Doc decided. "We can't have them running around alone in 1985. Clara can look after them while I repair the train."

Clara didn't make a response to that statement. She was in no mood to argue or even care what chores were being given to her. She wanted to get back to 1888 already! And she'd have to ride in that machine again, at least for a few moments. But she'd do it, if it meant she and Emmett could return home.

Marty climbed in first and squeezed as close to the middle of the small vehicle as he could. Clara was next, half-sitting on Marty's lap and then the boys, sprawled across them in an awkward fashion. Clara managed to get her door shut and Doc took the DeLorean into the sky.

Clara shut her eyes, her face twisted with agony. Marty looked at her with concern. "Are you all right, Clara?"
She looked up at Marty, a frown on her face, her cheeks wet. "I'll be fine. Just as soon as we're out of this place."

"We're going," Marty assured her. "Right, Doc?"

Doc nodded and the car flew forward through the sky. Luckily, it wasn't too long of a trip and when the car bumped into Doc's driveway, Marty helped Clara throw open her door and they all tumbled out.

"Home sweet home, huh, Doc?" Marty smiled and fished in his pocket for his keys. "If you need any help with the kids, I'm free after school tomorrow. Me and Jen can look after them. She's pretty good with children."

"Thanks, Marty," Doc said. "But I'm sure that won't be necessary. I hope to have the train in working order by that time. Hopefully I'll have all the necessary instruments I'll need here."

"Sure thing, Doc," Marty climbed into his truck which was still parked outside of Doc's garage. "See you tomorrow," Marty waved out of his window, started the engine, and backed out of the driveway, disappearing in the streets' shadows beyond.

"Emmett," Clara approached Doc's side and whispered. "Why didn't you tell Marty we're not staying in 1985?"

"Clara, please, not now," Doc headed toward the garage's door. "I've got a lot of things to do. Get the kids."

Clara rounded up the boys who had found their way into the front seat of the DeLorean and were playing with the steering wheel, pretending that they were driving it.

"Don't do that," Clara commanded. "What if you accidently start this beast? You could get hurt."

"I've drifted a car before," the older boy said as she led them to Doc's lab. "It's not that hard."

Clara was flustered by that comment. She hadn't done anything in a car before and here, a six year-old boy knew more than she did. She really hated the future and to wait any longer for her husband to repair the time machine would be torture. She couldn't wait to return home to a time when things were so much more simple.

Once inside, Clara closed the door behind her. "So this is your home in 1985?"

Doc nodded as he rushed to a shelf and reached up to pull a box down. He pulled it open and began searching through the mess inside.

"What a dump!" the older boy blurted out.

"Well, it could use a woman's touch," Clara agreed. "You actually lived here, Emmett?"

"Yep," Doc said and pulled out a flashlight. He reached for another box and pulled it down. He picked out a few select items, including a large, red toolbox. "Make yourselves at home. There are two beds. I'm going back to the ravine to see what repairs need to be made on the train."

Clara opened her mouth to say something, but Doc cut her off immediately: "The sooner I get done with the train the sooner we can leave. And I need you and the boys to stay here so I can fully concentrate on my work. Here."

Doc pulled the walkie-talkie he had collected from inside the train and handed it to Clara. "Let me know if you need anything."

Clara nodded as Doc hastily exited the garage, carrying a few items he had collected from the boxes in his arms. She looked at the boys who stared up at her with wide, excited eyes. It was going to be a long day.

 Marty woke up late. He had gotten less than four hours of sleep last night and the hour or so he'd nodded off in 2020 hadn't been very restful. He hadn't remembered to set his alarm again and when he finally did escape unconsciousness he saw that it was eight o' clock in the morning. He had nearly forgotten that he had to go to school that day until he spotted his book bag on the floor with his unfinished (technically, never began) homework inside.

"Shit," Marty mumbled to himself. He grabbed some clothes and raced to the bathroom, quickly brushing his teeth and washing up. He still couldn't get that damned bracelet from the future off of his wrist and he decided he'd have to let Doc look at it later. He was out at 8:10, grabbed his backpack and his skateboard, and dashed out of his room. A moment later he returned and tossed the skateboard on the ground and picked up his truck's keys. He kept forgetting he had it.

He sped to school and, despite how fast he fled, he was still late. This time Strickland hadn't caught him and he snuck to class without being reprimanded by the stern disciplinarian. During lunch, Marty called Doc's place from the school's pay phone.

"Hello," he heard a feminine voice come over the line.

"Clara?" Marty said. "Uh, is Doc there?"

"He's working on the locomotive," Clara returned. "I'm awfully busy with the boys, Marty, if you don't mind."

"Is he still working on that thing?" Marty seemed to ignore Clara's comments.

Clara sighed with consent. "Yes. But he's hoping to be done by the end of the day."

"I guess you guys won't start moving until tomorrow then," Marty said.

"Actually, I believe we'll go as soon as the boys are back in the future," Clara returned.

"Yeah, but you won't be coming back until earlier tomorrow morning, right? You don't want to move at night, and besides I was going to come over and help you unpack," Marty said.

"Actually, we're not coming--" Clara's voice suddenly disappeared from Marty's ear as the pay phone's receiver was yanked from in between Marty's shoulder and face.

"Personal calls during school, McFly?" Mr. Strickland glared at Marty, holding the phone's receiver in one hand.

"Actually, it's an emergency. My mom wanted me to call her," Marty fabricated a story.

"Am I to understand that Doctor Brown is moving out?" Strickland hung the phone up for Marty.

"No," Marty said. "His new wife's moving in. He got married."

Strickland looked at Marty suspiciously. "Who would marry that nut-case?"

"It takes all kinds," Marty shrugged.

Strickland pulled out a pad of pink paper and began scribbling on it. "Detention this afternoon, McFly."

The disciplinarian ripped off the top piece of paper and handed it to Marty. The teenager accepted it, crumbling it in his hand and stuffing it in his jean jacket pocket. "I'll be there with bells on, sir."

"I'd hope so. Miss another detention and I'll have to bring your parents into it," Strickland grumbled, then turned and shuffled away from Marty, off to harass another student no doubt.

Marty turned over the idea of skipping his punishment that afternoon. He turned away from the phone booth and looked into the school's cafeteria. There was a bustle of activity happening around him and it seemed to make him despise school even more. He promised never to make his kids go to a place like this, where the teachers liked to kick students when they were down instead of helping them up and the needs of the students who had creative potential were eclipsed by teacher's pets and the athletically gifted. Which made him remember his future daughter.

Like Doc said, the future isn't written yet. Marty vowed to be a great father for his children, no matter what the future had looked like. He pulled the crumbled detention slip from his pocket and unfolded it, reading the unjust punishment he had been given in his mind. And promptly he smashed the paper between his hands and tossed it to the floor.

He had promised Doc he'd help Clara with the boys. And a promise was a promise.

 Clara sat on the side of Doc's larger bed. The boys rested their heads on the pillows, looking up at Clara as she read from a book.
"'I have the honor, my brave colleagues, to propose a trial of this little experiment,'" she read.

"Is that story true?" the older boy asked as Clara turned the page.

"True?" Clara almost laughed. "It's fiction. A rocket to the moon? That would be incredible."

"But is that story about the first person who went to the moon?" the young boy asked. "Is that a true story?"

Clara paused to think for a moment. Had man really gone to the moon? She remembered Emmett talking about this before, but she had
always thought he was quoting her favorite novel. "It's not true," Clara shook her head. "This book was first published in 1865."

"Oh," the little boy smiled. "I thought it might be. It's good."

Clara closed the book. "I think it's time to take a nap," she said.

"No," the young boy shook his head. "Keep reading. I want to know what happens."

"Later," Clara said, standing up. "Go to sleep."

"Is Jules Verne from the future?" the older boy looked up at Clara with wondering eyes as she pulled a quilt over his and his brother's forms.

"The future?" she asked.

"Like your husband," the older boy said. "How'd he know about space ships and stuff before they were made? Was he from the future?"

"I don't think so," Clara smiled. "But I suppose nothing's impossible."

"I wish I could do that. Write about the future," the older boy said.

"You might," Clara suggested. "You might be a little Jules Verne yourself."

"Me too!" the younger boy interrupted. "I'm Verne too!"

"Yes," Clara pointed to the older boy. "You're Jules," and she pointed to the younger boy, tapping his nose with the tip of her finger, "and you're Verne. How's that?"

"Cool!" the young boy smiled. "I'm Verne!"

"Jules is a stupid name," the old boy complained, crossing his arms. "Doesn't he have a better middle name?"

"Jules is better than no name," Clara smiled. "Now go to sleep, Jules. And Verne."

Clara left the boys' sides as they turned over in the bed and closed their eyes. She sat down on Doc's smaller bed, resting the book in her lap, and watched the boys sleep.

Marty's truck pulled into Doc's driveway. The DeLorean was missing in action and, Marty presumed, Doc was still working on the time train. It was after three o' clock when Marty had arrived there. He had asked Jen if she wanted to tag along, but she had some after school tutoring to do.

The teenager walked to Doc's front door and instinctively went for the key under the welcome mat. He unlocked the door and pushed it open slowly. Clara looked up from the book she was reading, still sitting on the smaller bed, expectantly.

"Oh, it's you, Marty," Clara said with a touch of disappointment. "I thought Emmett had returned." She slipped a red string into the book to mark her place and closed it.

"How's things going?" Marty asked her.

"They're a handful," Clara gestured toward the boys. "I just got them to settle down for a while."

Marty noticed now that Clara was wearing western attire. A long, purple (and awfully familiar) frilly dress which blended right in in the late 1800's. It looked like she was in a rush to get back there.

"What's going on with the train?" Marty asked her.

"Hopefully it will be finished by tonight," Clara said. "Emmett said he only needs to make a few more adjustments before he takes the boys back to the future."

Marty walked to the back of Doc's garage, past the boys sleeping on the double bed, and opened the door to Doc's refrigerator and pulled out a can of Pepsi Free. "Want one?" he asked Clara as she stepped up behind him.

"No," Clara said. "What is it?"

"Soda," Marty told her.

Clara looked confused. Marty shrugged and popped the can open and took a drink.

"Listen," Marty said, "if I don't see Doc today, tell him not to come back until tomorrow. So I can help you guys move in. Doc's place isn't too big, but it will do until you guys can get something bigger, right?"

"Marty, I think you should know something," Clara began.

"Yeah?" Marty still had a juvenile smirk spread across his face. "What's up?"

"Clara!" a raspy, broken-up voice interrupted the conversation.

Clara reached for the walkie-talkie that rested on a table by the double bed and pulled it up to her mouth and said: "What is it, Emmett?"

"Good news," Doc returned over the walkie-talkie. "The train should be repaired shortly --"

"Good," Clara smiled.

"-- and tonight we can send the boys back to the future," Doc concluded.

Clara frowned at this comment as, behind her and Marty, their backs to him, the older boy sat up and stretched. He had only slept for a few minutes. He turned to look back at Clara. He liked her. She was really nice - a lot nicer than any adult at the orphanage. He started to wonder how long they were going to be allowed to stay there, in the old man's home. He didn't like the idea of going back onto the streets again, but as long as he didn't have to worry about the year 2020 anymore, he'd be happy. And by this time he was convinced they really were in 1985!

"When will the time machine be ready?" Clara said into the walkie-talkie.

"Oh, about an hour or so," Doc decided.

"Then we can leave sooner," Clara was ecstatic.

The older boy stood up and began walking toward Clara.

"No. I don't want to take the time machine out during the day," Doc replied. "Don't worry, Clara, we'll be home soon enough. Besides, I want some time to explain to Marty why we're not staying in the present."

Marty's eyes widened at this revelation. "What?"

Doc hadn't heard the surprised reaction from Marty, as Clara was not holding the "TALK" button down.

"Marty ..." Clara began.

"Clara," Doc interrupted. "Are you still there?"

"Yes, Emmett."

"Good," Doc said. "Listen, I want you to tell the boys that they have to go back to the future. They seem to have taken a shining to you and it might sound better coming from your mouth."

The older boy's jaw dropped upon hearing this information. Immediately he retraced his steps and aroused his brother from slumber.

"Wha--" the older boy clasped his hand over his brother's mouth and shushed him.

"Let's go," the older boy whispered and pulled his brother out of bed and led him to the door, hand still over his mouth.

"I've taken a shining to them, too," Clara admitted, unaware of the boys' actions behind her. "The boys have been through so much. It might be best if they stay in 1985, Emmett. Or, better yet, if we take them with us back to 1888."

"No," Doc said. "It's too dangerous! Please, Clara, I'm already doing you a mammoth favor by agreeing to return to 1888. I'm risking the entire space-time continuum and I'd prefer not to do any more damage to it."

"All right, Emmett," Clara relented. "I'll talk to the boys."

"Good," Doc said. "I'll call you later."

Doc's line went dead and Clara kept her head lowered, afraid to look Marty in the eyes. Finally she lifted her head and looked at him, an expression of hurt and confusion covering his face.

"Marty," Clara said. "You have to try to understand. I can't live in 1985. I just can't!"

"I don't understand! Why not?" Marty cried.

"Marty, can we not discuss this now? I want to prepare the boys for ..." Clara turned around and faced the bed the boys had been lying on, only now the bed was unoccupied. "Where are the boys?"

Marty looked around the room, but they were nowhere to be seen. "They were just here ..."

Clara immediately began searching the room, turning Doc's already dishevelled garage upside-down in a frantic search for the children. Marty ran outside and looked around. There was no sign of them. But how could they have disappeared so quickly? Marty had just seen them sleeping soundly a few moments ago! Although, as he recalled, they were good hiders.

Clara scurried from Doc's garage and approached Marty's side. "Do you see them?"

"No, but they couldn't have gotten far," Marty said undauntedly. "We'd better find them or Doc'll blow his top."

Clara didn't quite understand what Marty was trying to say, but she was certain that her husband would not be too happy to hear such news.

"What are you doing?" the younger boy demanded, struggling to break free from his older brother's grip.

The older boy led his brother down the street with a hurried pace. Once Doc's garage was out of sight, the boy pulled his younger sibling into an alley between two buildings and said: "We had to go."

"Why?" the younger boy demanded. "I liked it there! I don't want to run away anymore!"

"Because!" his brother snapped. "Because they were going to make us go back to the future! Back to that dumb orphanage!"

"Nuh uh!" the younger boy shook his head in protest. "No way! They were taking care of us. That girl was watching us and taking care of us! They weren't going to make us go back!"

"I heard them," his older brother declared. "They were! What'd I tell you, bojo! Adults can't be trusted. I knew it! Come on!"

The older boy grabbed hold of his brother's arm and led him down the alley and onto the opposite street. "I don't want to go!" the younger boy cried, dragging his feet as his brother tugged him along. "I want to live with the girl and I want her to take care of me!"

"Well, she's not going to!" the older boy returned angrily. "She doesn't even like us! I told you they can't be trusted! I told you! Let's go."

He had known it was too good to be true. The older boy should have realized that they were never going to get such a lucky break. Never going to get a happy ending. It would take a miracle! Nobody wanted them! Not in the present, past or future! So they were just going to have to take care of each other. That was the only option. If life wanted to spit at them, then they'd spit at life! Who needed adults? No one! They didn't need parents! They didn't need a mother and father! All they needed was each other and they'd be fine.

The older boy refused to expect anything more.

 Clara looked at the blur of buildings rushing past her eyes, trying to locate some sign of the children. "Slow down!" she implored Marty. "I wouldn't see them even if they were out there."

Marty slowed on the acceleration. He had been going over 70, hoping to track the boys down before they got too far. Now they had driven far out of the range the boys could have walked in the few minutes since Clara and Marty had left Doc's garage. The boys had officially disappeared.

"Where could they be?" Clara asked. "Where could they have gone?"

"I don't know," Marty shook his head, his hands resting on his truck's steering wheel. "Maybe we should call the police."

"That might not be a good idea," Clara thought aloud. "The boys don't belong in this time. We shouldn't tell anyone."

She was right. This time traveling business could get really messy sometimes. If only they hadn't been forced to bring the boys back with them. Then everything would be fine. Well, not really. Since when was Doc going back and living in 1888 permanently? And, as far as Marty could tell, it was all Clara's doing. Hadn't Doc said she was willing to move to the future? He supposed it didn't matter what century they came from, Marty would never understand women.

Marty pulled up to a red light. "There's no way they could have gotten this far. I'm turning around." Marty flicked on his left turn signal and pulled into the left lane to make a U turn. He and Clara sat in silence, waiting for the light to change.

"I guess the red means stop?" Clara asked, looking up at the light.

Marty nodded. "Yeah. Red means stop. Green means go. Yellow means slow down."

"That's funny. I thought I saw you speed through a yellow light," Clara smiled at Marty. "That's not slowing down."

"Well, technically you're supposed to slow down. But a yellow light means a red one's coming."

"So you don't want to stop at the light?" Clara asked.

"Yeah," Marty replied. "See, the future's not so hard to understand."

Clara looked away from Marty, gazing out the passenger's window. The light turned green and he turned his truck around. "I don't get it, Clara," Marty broke the silence. "Why can't you live in 1985?"

"Marty, I don't think you can understand," Clara shook her head. "It's one hundred years in the future. Everything is different! Everything that I've been taught, everything that I've learned ... Everything I'm used to doesn't exist anymore. I'd have to relearn everything! At first ... At first I thought it might be exciting! Like living in a Jules Verne novel! But that was just an irrational dream. It's completely and utterly different from what I ever expected. Everything I see and everything that happens here is something new or different. Something that's common knowledge to you is another abnormality to me. I can't even open a car door!"

"But you can learn," Marty objected.

"Not everything," Clara reasoned. "It's too much. It would be an unrealistic goal. And I know Emmett can live in 1888, but I really don't think I can live here.

"And I really don't think I want to," she added earnestly.

So it was all out. He still didn't understand. 1985 was way better than 1888. Television, radio, telephone, clean water, easy living - what more did she want? Everything was perfect.

"It would be like someone asking you to live in the future, like the year 2020," Clara continued. "Do you think you could adapt to that?"

Marty now remembered what the future had been like. Flying cars, thumbprint identification, strict laws - he couldn't live in 2020. He would never get used to all the differences, not to mention the hassle of being in a time he didn't belong. Any problems with the police and he'd be locked up forever!

"Yeah," Marty lied through his teeth. "I could probably manage."

Clara looked at him sharply, but Marty did not look back, keeping his eyes directly on the road ahead.

"Well, I can't," Clara said. "And that's only asking thirty-five years for you. You're asking me to jump one hundred years into the future! It's ludicrous to think that I could adjust to everything!"

"Well, maybe not everything ..." Marty trailed off. The conversation was not leaning in the direction he had hoped it would, so he decided to drop the subject. "You see anything yet?"

Clara returned her gaze to her window. "No. I don't see them."

"Man, Doc'll be pissed if we don't find those kids," Marty swallowed hard.

Clara glanced at Marty, interested some at his choice of words. He was using phrases and words she'd never heard of and probably wouldn't hear in her lifetime. "Why would they run off like that?"

"They probably heard us talking about taking them back to the future," Marty suggested. "It didn't sound like they really wanted to go back."

"No, they didn't," Clara agreed. "I'm not sure it would be best if they did, either."

"Yeah, but you know the Doc," Marty said. "You can't disrupt the time barrier for personal gain. Although, I guess he made an exception when he married you. He probably figured since you were supposed to die in that ravine it would be okay if you two got married."

"I guess he did make a rather large sacrifice," Clara acknowledged.

"Hey, no kidding," Marty said. "He gave up his whole life. His home, his inventions and friends ... He really went nuts for you."

Clara sat back in her seat, running these comments through her mind. Marty regarded her hopefully. Maybe she'd get the message he was being rather blatant about.

"Clara!" Doc's voice interrupted her concentration.

Clara, startled by the sudden burst of static, reached for the walkie-talkie she had rested in her lap and held it up to her mouth. "Emmett?" she said in a rather timorous voice. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Doc replied, incognizant of the worry in Clara's voice. "The train's time circuits are repaired. I'm heading home right now. Are the boys ready?"

Clara hesitated to speak. "Y-yes."

"Clara, you did tell them? You did tell them they had to return to the future?" Doc asked doubtfully.

"Well ... Yes, Emmett, they know all about it," Clara said after a moment.

"Good," Doc breathed a sigh of relief. "Get them ready for the trip. I'll be there in about ten minutes."

Doc's line went dead and Clara looked at Marty, her eyes searching him for some sort of response, some sort of answer to their problem.

"Listen, Clara, if Doc comes home and sees that we're not there and the boys are missing he'll have a heart attack," Marty began.

A heart attack? Would he really, over something like that? Or was Marty just exaggerating? Either way, she understood that the results would not be good.

"If we don't find the boys in ten minutes, we're going to have to call Doc and tell him what's happening," Marty decided.

Clara nodded. That was reasonable, although she really hoped they'd find the boys before then. Not only was she worried about her husband's reaction, but about the boys themselves. It was getting dark out and this future Hill Valley town was no place for them to be at night. She wasn't sure how dangerous the town was now, but if it was half as parlous as it was in 1888 ... She swallowed hard, thinking about everything that could happen to the children as they wandered the dark town alone. She'd never forgive herself if something happened to them.

It reminded her of when her little brother died. She was only thirteen and he was only six. He had caught pneumonia one day when he and Clara were playing in the rain. After that he had become very sick. He was cold all the time, and coughing and he was breathing harshly. He had only been this way for a few days before he died and Clara hadn't so much as caught a cold. They had both been outside in the rain, so why did he die? And why did she live?

She promised herself never to let something like that happen again. She had promised herself that she was not going to allow anyone she cared for die because of her mistakes or something she did. So she had to find the boys, because she wasn't going to let anything happen to them!

Like the boys, Clara had grown up alone. Her mother had died of childbed fever when her brother was born and her father had abandoned her when she was only fifteen. He had found a new life without her and from then on she had been alone. From then on it had been her against the world and she felt connected to the boys. They had faced so many hardships; every child needs love. Clara could relate with them, with not feeling loved, with feeling alone and forgotten.

They were kindred.

 Doc tested the time circuits one last time. He flipped the switch on and everything lit up. Now he made sure the control panel was working properly, entering a random date. The characters flashed across the screen and Doc smiled with relief. Everything seemed to be working just fine now.

After clicking off the time circuits, Doc climbed out of the train and walked toward the DeLorean. Clara had sounded strange when he contacted her, like something wasn't quite right. He was afraid she was getting too attached to the boys. He would have to remind her that they didn't belong in this time, that they weren't her children. That they belonged in 2020 just as much as she belonged in 1888.

That would make her understand. Children always seemed to want to be the complete opposite of their parents. Doc knew about Clara's past, about her lost childhood. He knew now why she tried to understand everyone she met before passing judgement and that was the reason Doc had fallen in love with her in the first place. It was because her father had abandoned her. Because she had promised herself never to do such a thing to another human being. She had promised herself to accept a person for who they were and not judge them, but love them for it.

She saw through peculiarities and saw the light of a person inside. That's why Doc loved her. It was her compassion and strength which made her different from other women, not to mention her love of science. There wasn't one thing about the woman Doc didn't love. Perhaps her stubbornness, Doc amended. When she wanted something, and she felt strongly about it, Doc found it difficult to argue with her, or to even reason. She had told him many times that her heart was not a mechanical adder. He could not calculate her feelings, and Doc had found that out some time ago.

But Doc was a scientist. And sometimes he could not allow human emotion to overpower statistics. This was one of those times, although Doc wished he had been more firm with Clara on moving back to 1888. He had let emotion prevail, but he wouldn't let it happen again.

Doc climbed into the DeLorean and started the engine. For a moment, Doc realized that this would be the last day he would see 1985, his home. He quickly shook off this feeling of nostalgia. The things we do for love, Doc thought to himself as the car floated into the air. Even the most intellectual become stupid children.

The older boy pulled his brother through another alley. He had decided what they were going to do. If nobody wanted them, then they would go to a time when nobody existed. Where it would be just them and they wouldn't have to worry about adults. He had seen Clara's husband work the time machine and was confident he could figure it out.

He pulled his brother behind him as he ran across the street, his brother still somewhat resistant to the adventure. As they crossed the street, the older boy paused for a moment and his brother stumbled into his back.

"What are you doing?" the young boy asked.

The older boy continued to stare ahead and the young boy matched his gaze. A tall, red brick building stood before them. A familiar building. It had a gate surrounding it and two gun towers on opposite sides of the building. A sign hung on the gate that said "NO TRESPASSERS: PRISON PROPERTY" and there was a large sign outside the gate which read: "EASTWOOD RAVINE CORRECTIONAL FACILITY." The building appeared to be abandoned, the door to the gate left wide open and its windows broken.

The older boy bent down and picked up some rocks in his hands. He stood and began tossing them over the gate at the building. "Damn place!" he cried. "Go away!"

His brother watched him as he tossed rocks at the building, a few of them breaking holes in some of the windows. Finally, the older boy refrained and collapsed on the sidewalk. His brother sat down next to him and they both looked up at the tall, ominous building.

"We'll always be alone," the older boy said through large gasps of breath. "You know? We'll always be alone."

"No," the younger boy shook his head. "We'll always have each other. That way, we'll never be alone."

The older boy looked at his brother with surprise. "Yeah," the boy nodded and placed his arm on his brother's back and squeezed his shoulder. "You're right, bojo."

"Don't call me bojo anymore," the young boy said and pulled away from his brother.

"Why not?" the older boy demanded.

"Because my name's Verne now, remember?"

"Verne's a stupid name," the older boy stood to his feet and wiped the gravel from his pants.

"You're just mad 'cause you got stuck with Jules," the younger boy stood now. "That's why you're mad, huh Jules?"

"Shut up!" Jules commanded and walked quickly away from the building. "Let's go."

Verne ran to catch up with his older brother who was now walking briskly across the pavement. In the distance, near the Eastwood Ravine, the boys could just make out the dot that was the time machine. As they walked on, they saw the silver car the old man had drifted earlier fly through the air and over their heads, away into the sky. They had ducked in hopes that they would not be seen, and the car passed without stopping. It wouldn't be long until they were away from everyone. They didn't need anyone else. Not Marty, or Clara and her husband, or anyone at that stupid orphanage! Not anyone.

They could survive on their own. They had so far. And that seemed to be the way it was meant to be. They were meant to be alone, and that was fine, if that's how it had to be.

They'd go away and never come back. And they wouldn't be missed at all.

When Doc arrived home he found the garage still. The lights were out and when he entered the room he found that Clara and the boys had disappeared. Immediately he pulled out his walkie talkie and called into it: "Clara! Clara, where are you?"

A few moments elapsed and then: "Emmett? What do you mean?" Clara's crackled and anxious reply came from the walkie-talkie.

"I just got home and you aren't there. Where are you?" Doc repeated.

Again there was a brief silence. Doc was beginning to get the feeling that something was being kept from him. "We're out looking," Clara replied.

"Looking? For what?"

"The boys," Clara said finally.

"The boys? What do you mean? Who's 'we'?" Doc was completely in the dark as to what was happening.

Now Marty's voice came over the line. "Me and Clara. Listen, Doc, the boys took off when they found out we were bringing them back to the future. So we went out to look for them."

"And when were you planning on telling me this?" Doc couldn't believe such an important detail would be kept hidden from him. The entire time continuum could be at stake!

"We didn't want you to worry," Marty said. "If we did found the boys, there was no reason to upset you."

"I am upset!" Doc asserted. "Have you found them?"

"No," Marty admitted. "We looked all over town, Doc! I don't know where else they could have gone. It's like they dropped off the face of the planet."

"Or something worse ..." Doc said thoughtfully. "Marty, check the Eastwood Ravine. I want you to keep an eye on that train!"

"You don't think the boys would try to steal the train?" Now Clara's voice had returned to the walkie-talkie.

"I don't know," Doc said. "But it's imperative that we not allow anything to happen to it. I'll meet you there. And if anything happens, let me know ... Immediately!"

"Right, Doc," Marty's voice returned to the walkie-talkie and he signed off.

Doc returned his walkie-talkie to his pocket and quickly ran to the DeLorean and climbed in. Wherever the boys were, Doc was sure he wasn't going to like the outcome of this entire mess.

 "Almost got it," Jules clenched his teeth, his hand holding the electronic pick Doc had given him and the point pressed against the time train's thumb-plate. Beep! "Yes!"

Jules placed his thumb against the plate and the doors slowly swung open. "Got it!" Jules smiled. "Let's go!"

Jules climbed inside the train, but Verne paused for a moment outside. "Are you sure this is a good idea?"

"Yeah," Jules emptied his pockets which he had filled with trash. "Why wouldn't it be?"

Verne slowly climbed in and watched his brother dump the trash in the appropriate slot as they had seen the older man do when he had prepared the train for time travel in 2020.

"Now how did he turn it on?" Jules mumbled to himself. "Oh yeah." He turned the switch that activated the time circuits and the main panel came to life. "What else?"

"I don't know if this is a good idea," Verne repeated. "Won't they be mad if we steal this train?"

"It won't matter because we won't be here anymore," Jules returned. "We'll be gone and there won't be anything they can do about it."

"It's not very nice," Verne said.

"You think they were nice to us?" Jules demanded.

"She read to us!" Verne pointed out.

"And then said she was taking us back to 2020! To that dumb orphanage! That we'd be alone again! So what if she read to us? That doesn't make her love us or want us!" Jules cried. "They don't deserve nice! No adults do!"

Verne considered his brother's words very carefully. There was truth in them, more than the little boy cared to admit. "Okay," he consented. "Let's go."

 Marty's Toyota truck pulled off the road and drove across the dirt toward the immobile train, which Marty could just make out in the darkness as night took over the sky. He really hadn't thought the boys would try to steal the train. Marty probably couldn't even figure out how to work the thing, let alone a couple of kids!

Marty's truck pulled up a few yards from the train and he and Clara climbed out. "Not here," Marty announced.

"I suppose that's a good thing," Clara nodded as she surveyed the area.

She looked at the train for a moment as Marty turned his attention away and looked in the opposite direction. The machine was hideous. And now she'd have to wait even longer to return to 1888! If Emmett wasn't so bull-headed, then she could have taken the boys back to 1888 with them and raised them as her own children. But her husband's scientific brain couldn't even fathom such a possibility. It infuriated her that he could be so affectionate one moment and so technical the next. Wasn't love more important than science? Not to Emmett. There had to be a way to make him realize that the laws of science didn't coincide with the laws of love.
Staring at the train, she noticed for the first time that the doors were open and she saw a movement inside. She walked slowly toward the train. Marty glanced over his shoulder at her and asked: "Clara? What's up?"

"I think I see something," she replied and continued forward.

Marty squinted at the train, but could not see anything unusual. "What? What is it?"

Clara went to the train's door and climbed onto the bottom step. "Hello? Is someone here?" She climbed up another step to the top. "Hello?"

Clara felt the train shift suddenly and, grasping to the railings, looked at the train's wheels and saw them fold in and the train hovered a few feet above the ground. "Boys?" she poked her head into the doorway and peered in. "Are you in here?" she demanded.

She pulled herself into the train, sitting down inside the doorway, and then pulled her legs in and stood up. At the front panel stood the two boys, fiddling with the controls. "Boys! What are you doing?" she cried.

Verne looked over his shoulder. "Uh oh."

Jules looked too and said: "What are you doing here?"

"Stop this train at once!" Clara moved to grab the older boy's arm.

Jules immediately reached out his hand and pushed forward on the "ACCELERATION" switch. "No!" he uttered. "We're leaving!"

Clara stumbled backward as the train jerked forward, moving away from the edge of the ravine. "Jules! Stop this!"

Marty had seen the train hover above the ground and had immediately grabbed the walkie talkie which rested on the truck's passenger seat. "Doc! Yo, Doc, come in!"

Doc didn't respond right away and Marty ran after the train as it began to move forward. He reached for the door and, peering in and attempting to grab the railing, called into the train: "Hey! Stop!"

The train moved with greater speed and Marty found it impossible to keep up as the machine jolted away from him, causing Marty to loose his balance and topple to the ground.

"Marty! What's happening?" Doc's voice came from the walkie-talkie that now lay at the teenager's fingertips.

Marty picked up the walkie-talkie and stood. "Doc! The kids are in the train. Clara's inside too and they've got the thing moving fast! I think they're trying to time travel!"

"Great Scott!" Doc cried. "Marty, stop them at all costs! I'll be there in a few minutes!"

"Check, Doc!" Marty said and ran for his truck. He jumped in and started the engine. The truck roared to life and Marty peeled out after the train. It was heading toward the town now, gaining speed. Marty drove past the train, going much faster, and pulled in front of it, skidding to a stop. The boys wouldn't plow into his truck. At least Marty hoped they wouldn't.

Jules looked at the front screen and saw Marty's truck pull in front. "What's he doing?"

"Stop this train now, young man!" Clara commanded.

She went to the main panel and grabbed the "ACCELERATION" lever and pulled back on it.

"Stop!" Jules commanded. Then he grabbed the steering wheel and spun it to the left. The train swung around and Clara was thrown in that direction, away from the panel. Jules pushed the "ACCELERATION" lever forward again and the train continued forward in the opposite direction.

Marty watched as the train spun away from his vehicle and continued accelerating, now toward the edge of the ravine. "Great," Marty mumbled and pushed on the gas pedal. The truck took after the advancing train, gaining on it. "Stop!" Marty called. He didn't know if they could hear him or not, but he had to try. "You'll go over the ravine!"

Jules looked at the front screen again. The ravine's edge was just ahead. But he was sure he could make the train fly. He saw the hover lever which Doc had used before and placed his hand on it. He pulled back, but the train didn't move up. It stayed in the same position. "What?"

"It won't fly anymore!" Clara cried and ran up to the main panel. She pulled back on the "ACCELERATION" lever and the train began to decelerate.

"No! We can't stay here! We have to go!" Jules cried in anger and desperation.

"No," Clara said firmly. "You stop this!"

Clara kept her hand on the "ACCELERATION" switch and held it in position. The train was slowing, but the edge was coming closer. In desperation, Clara reached for the steering wheel and turned it to the left. The two boys were flung backward and collapsed in the back seat. The train turned to its side, slowly floating toward the ravine's edge.

Marty had to veer his truck out of the way of the train as it turned abruptly. It was headed toward the ravine, but now there was nothing Marty could do to stop it. The train slowed and slowed and then, as the tip of the nose peered over and half of the right side of the machine floated over the ravine's edge, the train stopped. It teetered on the edge of the ravine, one half over and one half floating above firm ground.

"Jeez," Marty said and pulled his truck to a stop. He climbed out and ran to the train. The locomotive's doorway hung just off the ravine, too far away for Marty to reach.

Clara stood at the front of the main panel, afraid to move. She saw the deep ravine in the screen before her. "We have to get out," Clara looked back to the boys who were collecting themselves from their fall.

Clara walked slowly to the door and peered out. She could see the ravine's bottom and felt panic embrace her. She looked up, toward the back end of the train. "Marty!"

"Clara!" Marty cried. "Can you jump?"

Clara looked to where Marty stood at the edge of the ravine. It was only a few feet, but it seemed too dangerous a stunt to attempt. "I don't think so," she said finally.

"I think you're going to have to try," Marty replied. "This thing's about to topple any second!"

Clara nodded slowly. "Marty!" she heard a cry from the walkie-talkie in Marty's hand. "What happened?"

Marty looked up and saw the DeLorean fly overhead. "Doc! We have to get Clara and the kids out!" Marty called into the walkie-talkie.

The DeLorean swept around the train and pulled up to its side, the driver's side facing the doors. Doc threw open his door and called: "Get in!"

"Boys!" Clara gestured to the children. "You first! Get in!"

Verne began to move forward, but Jules stopped him, placing his hand on his brother's shoulder and pulling him back. "No!" Jules said defiantly. "You don't want us and we don't want you! We're not going!"

"This isn't the time to argue, young man!" Clara insisted, outstretching her arms for the boys. "Over here! Now!"

Verne looked at his brother, seeing the reluctance and anger in his face. Finally, he moved forward a few steps toward the doorway.
As he did, the train began to lurch further toward the ravine's bottom.

"Hurry!" Clara cried.

Verne ran forward and Clara picked him up in her arms to hand him to Doc. But the extra weight had caused the train's nose to dip further and, before she could hand the boy off to her husband, the entire thing plunged downward. Doc just managed to swing the DeLorean out of the way. The train plummeted down the side of the ravine, its bottom floating just a few feet away from the ravine's wall.

"Clara!" Doc cried in a panicked voice.

The boys and Clara were thrown to the front of the train and Clara's hand slipped against the "ACCELERATE" lever, pushing it forward once more. All three collapsed against the main panel as the train soared toward the ground. Clara pulled them down and placed her arms over them in a desperate attempt to protect them from injury.

As the train collided to the bottom, the cowcatcher bent and snapped off the train's front, sending a jumble of rock fragments into the air. The machine's back thrusters, however, stayed aloft against the wall and, after a moment, the train was pushed forward again, now chugging slowly through the ravine's fissure, gaining speed as each second passed.

Clara stood. She and the boys had not been injured (although Verne was nearly in tears and Jules was visibly shaken up), and now she felt the train moving forward again. The main panel had been heavily damaged by the fall and sparks flickered from it, making Clara extremely wary of trying to touch the "ACCELERATION" lever. She made an attempt, but the damage to the panel was so severe that sparks flew at her fingers, making her recoil instantly.

Doc lowered the DeLorean in front of Marty who was still watching this scene with horror. "Marty! Get in!" he commanded and Marty jumped into the passenger's side of the DeLorean.

The DeLorean flew down into the ravine, soaring just behind the accelerating train. Doc pulled the car to the left of the train and Marty threw open his door, reaching his hand toward the doorway a good three yards away. "Closer, Doc!" Marty commanded. Doc moved the DeLorean in closer and Marty called: "Clara! Hurry! You have to get out!"

Clara heard Marty's voice and immediately grabbed the boys by their hands and pulled them to the doorway. Jules no longer resisted, fear having engrossed him. Clara peered out the train's doorway and saw the DeLorean soaring a few feet away, Marty in the passenger's seat. "The train won't stop!" she called to Marty.

"Here! Give me your hand!" Marty reached out, but again they were too far away. He glanced at the DeLorean's speedometer. They were going 60. To jump from the train at this speed could be deadly if Marty failed to catch them. "Bring it in, Doc!"

Doc again tried to pull the DeLorean in closer. Marty reached out with one hand as far as he could, his other hand holding onto the inside of the DeLorean so he didn't fall out. "Come on!"

Clara picked up Verne, pushed him against her chest, and moved her upper-body outside the train's doorway, her free hand holding her steady inside. The boy now hung over the ravine, the ground whizzing by under his feet. Her boots began to skid across the metal floor and the boy's weight nearly made her topple into the ravine. "Take him!"

Marty reached his hand out, Verne doing the same with his stubby fingers. A few more inches and there fingers would touch. Doc was watching them with intensity, trying to steer the car in closer. Now he glanced back to the front and did a double take as he saw a huge crag speeding right at the DeLorean. Doc yelped and pulled the car away from the train again, almost causing Marty to fall out of the car.

The DeLorean just veered away from the rock and the train plowed through a corner of it. Marty looked at the speedometer. 70.

They were running out of ravine now and the faster they went, the closer the end came.

"Come on, Doc!" Marty urged him.

Doc nodded and moved the DeLorean toward the train again. Clara had almost dropped the boy, but she had pulled him in when the DeLorean veered away and the splinters of rock had exploded into the air when the train barrelled through the crag. Now the DeLorean was shifting toward the train's doorway again. She picked up the boy once more and moved his figure forward as far as she could without toppling out, but the DeLorean still wasn't close enough.

"Closer!" Marty commanded.

It was still too far. They had now hit 80. There had to be something he could do to reach them. Marty glanced to the back of the DeLorean and noticed the hoverboard he had brought back from the future with him. He grabbed it and, using it as an extension, held it out toward the hands of the boy. "Grab it!"

The boy's fingers brushed the board. "Come on!" Marty urged. "Come on!"

The exterior of the train began to illuminate with blue light. Now, for the first time, Marty realized the time circuits were on. "Grab it!" he yelled, hoping that his encouragement would produce a result.

The boys' fingers just grasped the tip of the hoverboard as Doc swayed in closer. Suddenly, the train flew over another protrusion of rock and the locomotive jumped up, causing the boy to release his hold and Clara, with the boy in her arms, and Jules to slide backward from the doorway. Doc was forced to veer away again as the train bumped up and almost clashed with the DeLorean.

85. Now Doc knew he had to hurry. He flew the DeLorean back toward the train. 86. Marty reached his hand out as the doorway approached, but no one met him at the door. 87. "Come on!"

In a rush of stuffy air and a flash of bright light the train disappeared, a bumpy trail of fire following in its tracks down the ravine. Marty was blown back by the sudden gust of wind and the DeLorean nearly crashed into the side of the canyon; Doc was just able to maneuver the vehicle away from the wall. Marty and Doc suddenly felt very awkward and alone as the puff of smoke that had taken form in the locomotive's wake settled.

Doc slowed the DeLorean to a stop, floating in the air. The ravine was eerily silent.

"They're gone," Doc muttered.

Marty looked ahead as the fire tracks faded. He was right. Clara, the boys, and the time train had vanished to some point in history. A time that would be nearly impossible to locate.

The smell of rust and fusty oil hung in the air, but that was the only reminiscence of the time travelling locomotive.