The older boy dragged his brother across the pavement. He had taken them to the town’s square because he could not think of anywhere else to. He remembered, on the first night they had escaped from the orphanage, they had chosen Hill Valley’s clock tower to sleep in. It wasn’t noisy at all because the clock was broken and it was a great hiding place. They had climbed all the way to the top, and slept with all the inoperable nuts and bolts in the roof of the tower. And the boy thought it would be a good place to hide again in case the man or the woman tried to find them and make them go back to the future.

 Now, across the street from them, stood the clock tower. The underground mall was absent and non-existent. That had been another place he had considered hiding, but now that was out of the question.

 “Let’s go,” the older boy commanded.

 “No!” the young boy cried. “I don’t want to! I don’t want to run away anymore! I want to live with the girl and be a family!”

 “She’s not your family! And she doesn’t want to be!” the older boy cried.

 Thunder drummed above. The night was getting darker and a storm was coming. The younger boy pulled away from his brother.

 “I don’t want to!” he objected. “I want to go back!”

 The thunder boomed again, this time very loudly, making a street sign not far from them shake frenziedly. Drops of rain began to spatter across the ground very slowly.

 “We can’t go back!” the older boy urged. “We can’t! They’ll make us go back to the orphanage! I heard them! They said it!”

 His voice was raising over the noise. The rain began falling harder. It now felt like they were standing under a waterfall and their clothes were completely drenched, both shivering from the cold. The older boy’s breath was visible in the air as he spoke and the ground seemed to shake under the violent storm.

 “No!” the younger boy shook his head. “They won’t! They won’t! They--”

 His voice was drowned out by the harsh clash of thunder above. It was beginning to become difficult to see anything and the older boy could barely make out his brother’s face. “They will! They are! Let’s go!”

 The water dripped over the young boy’s face. His body went lax and his brother pulled him across the pavement, the boy shuffling his feet and following behind. He had wanted a family so bad. But now that wasn’t going to happen. It didn’t matter where they went, or when ... No one would ever love them. And the young boy began to hate adults.

 They stopped when the came to the street. The rain was falling so hard now that they could hardly see anything. The older boy could hardly make out the clock tower just a few yards across from them. He pulled his younger brother across the street. Midway across the street the young boy pulled his wrist from the older boy’s hand.

 The older boy stopped and looked at his brother. “What are you doing?”

 “I want to go back!” the young boy cried. “I don’t care if we have to back to the orphanage! I don’t want to hide anymore!”

 “No! We can’t go back there! We can’t!”

 The younger boy backed away and his brother watched him seriously. “I don’t want to run anymore!”

 “I’m not going back!” the older boy cried defiantly. Then he extended his hand and said: “Come on! I’m going now and, if you don’t come, I’m going without you!”

 The young boy remained firm, his arms crossed as the two stood in the middle of the street.

 “Fine!” the older boy cried and ran across the street toward the court house, his feet swishing in the ankle-high water. “Then you’re on your own, bojo!”

 The young boy stood there in the middle of the street, watching his brother as he stepped onto the sidewalk before the court house. His brother turned to look at him, waiting, expecting his younger sibling to come running after him, but the boy did not move.

 “You’d better come on!” the older boy demanded.

 The young boy remained stubborn. He was tired of hiding. He was tired of being alone. He just wanted to be happy. And if he couldn’t have that, then he might as well be back in the orphanage. It didn’t matter to him either way.

 The rain had appeared unexpectedly and had advanced across the town like a well-trained army, the men raising their rifles and firing drops of rain at their adversaries. Marty had flicked on his lights and the windshield wipers, but still could hardly see anything through the monsoon.

 “I can’t see a damned thing!” Marty cried, peering through his window.

 He had turned into the town square for a final search for the boys, but now it would be impossible to spot anyone. Doc would be getting close to the lab now, depending on how the storm had affected his drive. Now it seemed hopeless, like they were destined not to find the boys.

 “I’m pulling over!” Marty announced. He was bound to have an accident if he kept driving in the harsh rain.
 He pulled his car over to the side of the road and put it into park. He and Clara sat in their seats, the windshield wipers pushing the rain back and forth across the front window. To his left Marty could see the courthouse clock tower. And a figure, standing in the rain. He could just barely see it.

 He looked away from the clock tower and frowned at Clara. “I think we’d better call Doc and tell him what’s going on.”

 Clara nodded and put the walkie-talkie to her mouth. “Emmett.”

 Marty glanced back out the window. A truck was driving down the street outside the clock tower, its lights shining across the road. Suddenly, a figure splashed in front of the lights. Marty hadn’t seen it before and neither had the driver. The dark figure stood defiantly in the street unmoving. Marty and Clara bother heard the truck’s wheels screech as it tried to stop, the truck sliding across the slick road.

 “Holy shit!” Marty’s eyes went wide.

 The small boy hadn’t seen it coming. He had been watching his older brother with resentment for the last minute. He wasn’t going to hide anymore. He wasn’t going to be pushed around by his brother. He was never going to be happy. He accepted that. But he wasn’t going to run. Not anymore. He was not going to run.

 Then the lights splashed across him. He glanced at the truck barreling at him and he didn’t move. Not an inch. He was terrified. He couldn’t move. The truck’s wheels squealed as the vehicle loomed at him, like a vicious creature announcing its attack.

 The boys arms hung limp at his sides, staring at the truck.

 The vehicle finally came to a stop, but the figure was gone now, no longer apparent in the lights.

 The small boy laid on the ground, behind the truck, unmoving, the heavy drops of rain falling across his lifeless form.

Marty pushed open his door and stood, the rain falling across him. Clara had heard the truck, but did not know what had happened. Clara lowered the walkie-talkie from her mouth and looked at Marty.

 “What’s wrong?” she asked.

 “Someone got hit,” Marty said and ran from the truck.

 Clara fumbled at her door until she found the handle and discovered that pulling on it opened the door. She climbed out and watched as Marty ran into the darkness. The rain was ice cold and as she saw nothing but dark figures as she peered into the darkness. Still holding the walkie-talkie in one hand, she hustled to follow Marty.

 Marty ran past the truck, peering into the driver’s window. The driver clutched to the wheel, his hands unable to let go, and stared with wide eyes out at the darkness before him. He mumbled: “I didn’t see him. I didn’t see the kid. God, I hit him. I felt it. Dear God.”

 Marty ran behind the truck and there he saw two figures. His eyes widened as he recognized the first: a boy with brown hair who sat on his knees trying to pull his blonde brother’s body up into his arms, pleading over and over: “Come on, bojo, wake up! Wake up! You’re all right. Wake up!”

 “Jesus,” Marty said and kneeled next to the boy. The water dripped from his hair as he stared at the older boy.

 The older boy looked back, tears in his eyes. “No ... I didn’t want ... Marty ... do something ...”

 Marty picked the boy up in his arms and looked into the boys face. His eyes were shut and Marty knew that he was too late. He wanted to feel the pulse, but he knew if he did, he wouldn’t feel anything. He picked the boy up in his arms and stood.

 Now Clara had reached him and when she saw Marty, holding the small boy in his arms she gasped.

 “No,” she shook her head, her damp hair lying flat against her back. “Marty ...”

 “Get the kid,” Marty said to her, motioning toward the older boy.

 Marty ran to his truck and slipped the young boy into the back seat. He climbed in the back after him and sat in front of the boy. He began pumping his chest. Then he breathed into the boy’s mouth, but it was hopeless. Clara returned to the truck, holding the older boy in her arms, his arms wrapped around her shoulders. She sat the boy in the passenger’s seat.

 “Marty ...” she said softly.

 Marty finally relinquished his efforts. He shook his head at Clara and she felt a strong sadness grasp her. She didn’t cry, because she just couldn’t fathom what had happened.

 Marty climbed into the driver’s seat. The rain was dispersing now and as quickly as the storm had come, it had passed. “Get in,” Marty said, his voice noticeably shaky.

 Clara climbed in slowly next to the older boy who was now staring back at his brother. It was like a bad nightmare. A horrible nightmare. He still couldn’t believe it. He had been with his brother his entire life. Why didn’t he listen. The bojo! Why didn’t he come when his older brother had called?

 Marty peeled away from the clock tower, his face solemn.

 “Clara!” Doc’s voice sounded through the walkie-talkie. “Clara, are you there?”

 Clara looked at Marty expectantly. He didn’t look at her. He didn’t blink. His face remained determined. He was planning something. But what? What could he do?

 She looked back at the boy and saw her brother. She saw him, his skin a pale blue just like the younger boy’s. He didn’t move. She had come into wake him up one morning. And he didn’t move. He didn’t open his eyes. He never woke up. And she never spoke to him again.

 There was nothing she could do.

 Doc had just flown into the sky when the storm hit and the rain began pounding against the car. The thunder clashed overhead, which gave Doc remembrance of his accidental departure to 1885 a long while back. After that, he brought the DeLorean to the ground as quickly as he could. He didn’t have to worry about being propelled through time, but that didn’t make him any less anxious about being struck by lightning.

 He drove slowly down the road until the rain became so strong he could not see the road ahead. He was only a few minutes from home, but pulled over for fear of an accident. A few minutes later, the rain suddenly tapered off and just a slight spritz of precipitation could be seen in the air. Doc pulled back onto the street and drove home. When he got there, he noticed all the lights were off.

 He pulled into his driveway and climbed out of the DeLorean. He pushed open the unlocked door and peered in. “Clara?” he whispered.

 His home was empty and he flicked on a light. The room was illuminated and it looked a bit more messy than before. But what frightened Doc the most was that the room was empty. No boys. No Clara. They were gone!

 Doc immediately returned to the DeLorean, found his walkie-talkie, and called into it: “Clara! Clara, are you there?”

 There was no response and Doc was beginning to worry. Was it possible that something they did in the future caused some sort of chain reaction which wiped the boys from existence, thereby causing a new alternate reality to take effect where Clara’s whereabouts (or whenabouts) were unknown to him? Doc’s worried thoughts were interrupted by Clara’s voice coming through on the other line: “Emmett?”

 Relieved, Doc spoke into the walkie-talkie. “Clara, what happened to you? Where are you?”

 “We’re coming home,” Clara said. “But there’s something ...”

 “What?” Doc demanded.

 Clara didn’t reply. Her end went dead. “Hello? Clara? Clara!” But she didn’t respond. Something had happened. Something awful. What the hell was going on?

 Marty pulled into Doc’s driveway and stopped short behind the DeLorean. He climbed out quickly, stamping across the wet pavement. Doc appeared in the garage’s door and watched as Clara and the older boy stepped slowly out of Marty’s truck.

 “What’s going on?” Doc demanded. “Where were you?”

 “Doc ...” Marty didn’t quite know how to put this. “The boys had run away. When they heard that we were taking them back to the future they ... they split.”

 Doc looked past Marty as Clara and the older boy approached them. “But you found them?”

 “Doc ...” Again, Marty was at a loss for words. He just had to come clean and say exactly what had happened. He wanted to pretend that he hadn’t seen it, that it didn’t happen, but it did. And he had to tell Doc. Because something had to be done. “The kid’s dead.”

 “What?” Doc’s eyes went wide. “What are you talking about, Marty?”

 Clara and the older boy were now at Marty’s side.

 “Where’s the other boy?” Doc said.

 “In the truck,” Marty said. “But ... he ... he’s not alive.”

 Doc began to walk to the truck. He peered in slowly and saw the small boy laying in the back seat, unmoving. “Great Scott ...”

 Doc turned away from the truck. He felt like he was going to be sick.

 “Some truck ...” Marty said. “It just came out and ... it hit him, Doc. And we were too late to do anything. Jesus, Doc, we killed him!”

 Doc looked at Marty with wide eyes, comprehending Marty’s comment. Whether that boy was going to exist in the future or not, (and most likely he was) he wouldn’t anymore. Marty was right. Their trip, their actions, had killed that boy.

 Clara and Marty looked at Doc for a long moment. The older boy didn’t look. He stared away, into the darkness. How could this have happened? How? Doc walked slowly away from the truck, his hands in his pockets and his head hung low.

 “There’s nothing we can do now,” Doc said dolefully.

 “What do you mean?” Marty cried. “Of course there is! We have a time machine! We could go back and stop it from happening! We could go back and save him! We could save his life! Of course we can do something!”

 “No, Marty,” Doc shook his head and walked past the teenager, his head still hung. “Such an interference would cause a paradox. If you don’t see the boy die, then there’s no reason for us to back and prevent his death.”

 “Doc!” Marty’s voice rose. “There has to be something! Some way we can ... I don’t know ... save him! There has to be something!”

 Doc now stood by the older boy’s side, staring into the dark and foreboding night. He didn’t reply.

 Clara stepped up behind him and placed her hands on his shoulders lightly. “Emmett. If there is something you can do. Anything ... Then do it.”

 “Clara ...” Doc began. “I didn’t build the time machine to play God -- to announce who should die and who shouldn’t.”

 “But he wasn’t supposed to die, Doc!” Marty bawled, shrilly. “He wasn’t supposed to be here, in 1985, to be hit by that truck! You did play God by bringing him back here and getting him killed!”

 Doc looked at Marty, his eyes wide. Was Marty saying that he killed that boy? Marty put his hand on Doc’s shoulder. “We have to fix this. Isn’t there some way we can fix this without ... without causing a paradox?”

 Doc remained silent. What had he done? His machine had killed that boy. Doc looked down at the older boy. He still stared into the darkness, unaware of anything around him, lost in some sort of trance. Now Doc’s mind began to turn over ideas. They were right. Something had to be done, if it were possible. And, if anyone could rectify this problem, Emmett Brown was sure he could.

 “All right,” Doc finally consented. “Marty, get in the DeLorean. We’re going to fix this. All of it!”

 Marty grinned for the first time in the last hour. Doc sounded determined, like they really could succeed. Marty ran to the passenger’s door of the DeLorean and climbed in. Doc was just behind him, and pulled open the DeLorean’s driver’s door.

 “Emmett,” Clara ran up to him. “Please, do whatever you can. He can’t die. I love the boy too much.”

 Doc nodded and kissed her on the cheek. “I’ll do everything I can.”

 After a moment, the DeLorean lifted into the sky and disappeared into the darkness. Clara looked to the truck. She had to know for sure. She had to know if he was alive. She apprehensively walked toward the truck and pulled the four by four’s door open.

 The DeLorean landed with a bump in the forest, just opposite the train. Doc climbed out and Marty followed him. Doc picked up some leaves and twigs for fuel ran up to the train and opened the doors.

 “All right, Doc, what’s the plan?” Marty asked. He was determined that this mission would be a success, with no mistakes like what had happened in 2020 with the police.

 “Where’d the accident happen?” Doc asked and climbed into the train.

 Marty followed behind him. “Right outside the clock tower. Like fifteen minutes ago.”

 “All right,” Doc nodded. He loaded the train’s “MR. FUSION” tank and sat down in the conductor’s seat and clicked on the time circuits. “Here.”

 Doc fumbled in his pocket and pulled out the Sleep Inducer. He handed it to Marty. “What’s this for?” Marty asked.

 Doc pulled back on the hover lever and the train floated into the air. As it did he began typing in the destination time. “We’ll go thirty minutes into the past. That should give us enough time to get to the clock tower and prevent the accident. Can you get the boy out of the street before the truck arrives?”

 “Yeah,” Marty nodded, still standing behind the conductor’s seat.

 “You’re going to have to time it just right,” Doc explained. “You have to make the accident appear to have happened. If you - your past self - don’t believe the boy to be dead then we’ll cause a paradox. So don’t save the boy until just before the truck arrives. Then knock him out with the Sleep Inducer. Did you check his pulse or breathing?”

 “No,” Marty shook his dead. “I was positive he was ... he wasn’t alive.”

 “Good,” Doc said. “Buckle up.”

 Marty jogged to a seat in the back, sat down, and pulled on his seat belt. This didn’t sound like it was going to be too easy, but Marty was sure he could do it. He had to!

 Doc pushed forward on the train’s “ACCELERATE” switch and the train zoomed forward, gaining speed. Doc hoped that the repairs he had made worked. If something was wrong, who knows where they’d end up.

 After a few moments, the train hit 88 miles per hour and the locomotive disappeared, fire tracks jutting ahead in its wake.

 The train escaped through the night. Marty peered out his window. Everything was still dry, but the night was cloudy and he saw a flash of lightning and, after a few moments, a bellow of thunder. The time circuits had shut off the instant they had arrived the half hour in the past and now Doc continued to speed at 90 miles per hour, staying high in the sky.

 Marty was becoming nervous and anxious as the train hovered into the town’s square and the clock tower came into view below. Doc slowly brought the train down behind the clock tower as the rain began to drizzle and then fall down harder. Marty stood as the train settled on the ground. He went to the door.

 With the train stable, Doc stood and ran hurriedly to the door and opened it for Marty. “Remember, you have to time it perfectly. And don’t forget the Sleep Inducer!”

 “Right, Doc,” Marty nodded and climbed out of the train. If he messed this up, he could destroy the entire universe.

 Marty ran around the corner of the clock tower and peered into the street across from him. He could make out the two figures of the boys, standing in the street. They were screaming at each other. One figure ran across the street while the other remained, defiantly unmoving.

 Marty heard a car behind him turn onto the street and pull up to the curb. It was his truck and his other self and Clara were inside. If he had just pulled up a little closer, he would have recognized the boys. But now there was nothing he could do about that. He felt the Sleep Inducer in his pocket. He had to time this perfectly.

 Marty began running parallel with the clock tower’s face. The boy stood in the street for a long moment and now Marty saw the lights from the truck spill over the young boy. He was too late! The truck’s wheels screech as the driver tried to skid the vehicle to a stop. Marty ran into the street. The small boy was staring at the oncoming truck with shock, unmoving. Marty dove at the boy and pulled him out of the way of the massive vehicle. The truck had just clipped Marty’s left arm, just barely, but it missed the boy entirely.

 The two figures fell onto the ground into a puddle of water. His left arm ached and Marty swore it was broken. But he wasn’t finished. He could see the figure of the older boy staring into the obscured night, attempting to figure out what happened. Marty reached into his pocket with his right hand and pulled out the Sleep Inducer.

 The young boy sat up and looked at the teenager. “Marty?”

 Marty held the Sleep Inducer in front of the boy’s eyes and clicked it on. A light flashed and the boy’s head dropped backwards as he fell unconscious. Marty caught him in his good arm and lowered him onto the ground. Then he stood up and ran in the opposite direction, down the street. He looked over his shoulder and saw that the older boy had just arrived next to his brother and had dropped to his knees. Marty rounded the corner of the clock tower opposite the one he had emerged from and watched as the scene continued from a safe distance.

 His past self ran from his four by four and ran past the truck that had almost his the young boy. He stared into the driver’s window as he ran past and then continued until he reached the figures in the street. Marty was sure he hadn’t checked their pulses, but would he now?

 He didn’t. He picked the boy up in his arms and stood as Clara approached. He ran back to the truck and placed the boy inside. Then Clara arrived with the older boy and, after a moment, they were all inside his truck. Then the truck sped off, down the road, toward Doc’s garage.

 Marty breathed a sigh of relief and jogged back to the train behind the court house. Doc met him there. Apparently he had been watching from the opposite side of the building. Both he and Marty were soaking wet from the downpour of rain.

 “Well?” Marty grinned at Doc.

 “Mission accomplished!” Doc smirked. “Let’s go home!”

 Doc collected some more refuse for the trip and they both climbed in the train. He input the destination time for one minute after they had left and, after a few minutes had passed and the rain had subsided, the train hovered into the air and zoomed away into the future.

After a moment, the DeLorean lifted into the sky and disappeared into the darkness. Clara looked to the truck. She had to know for sure. She had to know if he was alive. She apprehensively walked toward the truck and pulled the four by four’s door open.

 She pulled back the front seat and climbed in next to the boy and sat down. Her breath showed as she breathed slowly, in and out. She took the boy’s wrist and felt for the pulse. She couldn’t find it. He was really was dead! Wait! There it was! She swore that it wasn’t her imagination! She felt his pulse. She grabbed the boy in her arms and hugged him tightly. He was alive! She knew it!

 The boy awoke with a start. The girl who had been watching him was hugging him now and he was confused as to what was happening.

 “Mommy ...” he said slowly. “What’s wrong?”

 Clara pulled away from the boy and looked at his blue face. His beautiful face! She grabbed a blanket which rested in Marty’s truck and wrapped it around the boy. “Nothing! Nothing’s wrong! Let’s get you inside!”

 Clara cradled the boy in her arms and brought him into Doc’s house and laid him on the bed. The older boy had been watching her with interest. Now he followed her in and saw his brother, his eyes open and staring at the ceiling from his position in the bed, alive and well. The older boy ran up to his brother. “You’re alive!”

 He grabbed his younger brother in his arms and hugged him. “Yeah,” the little boy nodded. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

 “Stupid bojo!” the older boy sobbed. “You’re alive!”

 Clara grabbed her walkie-talkie and spoke into it. “Emmett! Emmett, can you hear me? He’s alive! You did it! He’s back!”

 The little boy watched all this with wonder. He wasn’t sure what was happening. “Does this mean I don’t have to go back to the orphanage?”

 Clara laughed and the laughed turned into a sob as she kneeled down next to the boy and embraced him tightly.

 Ten minutes later the DeLorean lowered into Doc’s driveway and Marty and Doc climbed out. They entered Doc’s garage and, inside, saw Clara, with the young boy on her lap, and the older boy standing by her side.

 Marty smiled. “All right!”

 Clara looked up at the words and smiled. She put the small boy on the ground and ran up to Doc and hugged him. “You did it, Emmett! I knew that you could! He’s alive.”

 Doc hugged her back. “Yes.” Now he pulled away from her. “Now let’s get them back to the future.”

 Clara’s face became very serious, very stern. She shook her head. “No, they can’t go back. They can’t go back to that awful place Emmett. They’ll only be safe with us, in 1887!”

 “Clara, we can’t raise the boys in 1887! There are too many dangers!” Doc objected. “Please, Clara, you have to understand.”

 “But I don’t want to go back there,” the younger boy objected. “I don’t want to go back to the orphanage.”

 “You won’t have to,” Doc told him. “I’ve got a family set up for you there. One that will take care of you and love you. You’ll never have to go back to the place again.”

 “A family?” Marty asked Doc, still holding his aching shoulder. “In 2020?”

 Doc only smiled.

 “Everybody in,” Doc cried.

 Doc helped the boys into the train and Clara climbed in after them. “Are you sure we’re doing the right thing?” she asked as she climbed in.

 “We’re doing the only thing that can be done,” Doc nodded.

 Marty approached Doc. “You sure it’s safe to go back to 2020? You guys are still wanted there.”

 “We’re going a month ahead and I’ve already set up plans for the boys’ pick-up. I’m going to be very discreet about the whole thing,” Doc explained.

 “I bet,” Marty muttered. “Guess I’d better get to a doctor and have my arm looked at. It hurts like hell.”

 “Actually, it might be easier if you came to the future with us,” Doc said. “I’ll have the boys’ foster family bring some futuristic instruments that will have your arm fixed up in no time.”

 “Really?” Marty liked this idea. He really didn’t want his arm to be stuck in a cast for a month. “Okay.”

 Marty climbed in and Doc followed. Marty sat opposite the boys and Clara as Doc prepared the train for temporal displacement.

 “Coming along?” Clara asked.

 “Doc says they might have something to fix my arm,” Marty said. “What about you? I thought you hated time travel.”

 “I have to say goodbye to the boys,” Clara said. “I’ll bear it for that.”

 “I don’t want to go,” the young boy, who sat on Clara’s lap, said. “I want to stay with you!”

 “So do I,” Clara said. “But we can’t have everything always turn out the way we would like it to.”

 “Ready?” Doc called back to them.

 They all nodded and the train lifted into the air and accelerated to the future.

 The train settled in the woods. After a moment everyone climbed out and Doc went to the back of the train and backed the DeLorean out of the box car. He had brought it along in order to head to town.

 “I have to ask the foster parents to bring something for your arm,” Doc explained. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

 The DeLorean floated into the sky. Clara sat down in the train’s doorway and watched as the two boys began playing, the older one chasing the younger one. Marty stepped up to Clara’s side.

 “You okay?” he asked her.

 “I’ll be fine, I suppose,” Clara smiled at Marty. “I’m going to really miss them. I hope my children are half as beautiful and sweet as they are. I hate to leave them behind.”

 Marty nodded. He could tell that Clara had really fallen for the boys. But Marty was sure Doc knew what he was doing. If he said he had a good foster family lined up, then Marty wasn’t going to worry. The boys were going to be fine and they were going to have a much better future than if Marty hadn’t met them in the church.

 That seemed like a decade ago, but it had just the previous day.

 Doc returned after a few minutes and announced that the family would be arriving shortly. Not too long after that another DeLorean floated into the woods and landed. A middle-aged man and woman stepped out of the car and both looked somehow familiar to Marty.

 “Hey, Doc!” Marty Senior shook Doc’s hand. “How’s it going?”

 “Fine, fine, Marty,” Doc smiled. “Have you got the equipment for ... well, yourself?”

 “Oh yeah, yeah,” Senior smiled. “Tell Marlene to get bring it over, Jen!”

 Marty stood erect at this. That was him! He could just make out the face in the darkness! That was him thirty-five years in the future!

 “I see you got a new DeLorean,” Doc laughed.

 “I figured it would help if I travelled in style,” Marty Senior nodded. “An old friend taught me something about that.”

 Now Marlene climbed out of the DeLorean. She and her mother had been sharing a seat. Marlene held a silver case with a red cross on the front. She walked past Marty Senior and Doc and held the case in front of Marty’s eyes.

 “Here you are,” she said.

 Marty, dumbfounded, reached his good arm out to accept the present. “Marlene. You’re out of prison?”

 “Yeah. My dad got a new hearing set up. The court ruled that jaywalking is an archaic law and its been amended! I was set free!” Marlene seemed very pleased.

 “Still, I bet you wish it had never happened,” Marty said.

 “No,” Marlene shook her head. “Sometimes things like that need to happen. I’m glad they arrested me for jaywalking. Now no one else will get arrested for it. Sometimes you need to be a martyr to make the future better for your children, you know what I mean?”

 “Perfectly,” Marty smiled. “Thanks.”

 “No problem,” Marlene turned away from him. “... Dad.”

 She walked away, leaving gaping Marty behind. She was all right. In fact, she was glad to have been arrested. Marty was beginning to understand what she meant. Sometimes something bad had to happen to you in order for you to understand how bad that something is.

 Marty rubbed his wounded arm. Most of the time that bad something was worth it.

 “All right, boys. Come meet your new family,” Doc motioned for the boys to come closer. “This is your foster-father and your foster-mother,” Doc pointed to Marty Senior and Jennifer. “And that’s your foster-sister,” Doc pointed to Marlene who had joined her parent’s side. “And you shouldn’t worry about your foster-brother.”

 “We don’t,” Marlene joked.

 The boys hesitated. Jen kneeled down next to them. “What’s wrong? Don’t you want to be a part of our family?”

 The younger boy shook his head. “I want to go back to 1985 and live with mommy,” he pointed to Clara.

 Doc looked at Clara with surprised eyes. Marty Senior took Doc aside. “Listen, Doc, I’m not going to be the one to make these kids live in a place where they don’t want to. If they want to live with you guys, then they should.”

 “But I can’t take them back to 1887,” Doc objected.

 “Maybe you don’t have to,” Marty returned.

 Doc nodded with understanding. He approached Clara and began talking to her. Marty watched the conversation, unable to make out the words. Sometimes he wished he could learn to read lips. Clara seemed upset by Doc’s suggestion, but then she consented, nodding approval. Doc returned to the boys.

 “All right,” Doc smiled. “Back in the train, boys. We’re going home!”

 The boys didn’t hesitate. The hustled to the train and climbed in. Clara followed.

 “Sorry about everything,” Doc sighed. “Sometimes things happen the way you least expect them.”

 “No problem, Doc,” Marty Senior smiled. “But don’t be a stranger. Drop by in the future, okay?”

 “You can count on it,” Doc nodded.

 The McFly family climbed back into the DeLorean and, waving goodbye, they took into the sky. Doc walked to the train and Marty stopped him.

 “What’s up, Doc?” he asked him. “You’re taking the boys back to 1887 with you?”

 “Not exactly,” Doc replied simply.

 “Well,” Doc kneeled in front of the boys. “How do they look?”

 Marty looked at the boys, now both dressed in Western attire. “They look great, Doc!”

 Clara approached Doc dressed in a purple dress. “We finally picked out names for them. After all, if they’re going to be a part of our family we’re going to have something to call them.”

 “Oh yeah?” Marty grinned. “What’s that?”

 “The older one,” Doc placed his hand on the boy’s shoulder, “is named Jules. And the younger one,” Doc motioned toward the younger boy, “is Verne.”

 “Hey!” Marty laughed. “I knew those two looked familiar! I can’t believe I didn’t recognize them before!”

 “Well, we’re heading out,” Doc announced.

 “Not for too long I hope,” Marty said.

 “Nope,” Doc shook his head. “Just long enough to pack up everything, pick up Einstein, travel back to October 27 and wish you well, and we’ll come back tomorrow morning to unpack. Don’t know how good my garage will be for a family. We might have to find someplace bigger soon.”

 Marty nodded in agreement. “That place is barely big enough for you and Einstein. So listen, I guess I’ll stop by tomorrow.”

 Doc extended his hand and Marty shook it. “How’s the arm?”

 “Great, Doc,” Marty smiled. “You were right. It felt fine by morning. Thank God, because my mom would have freaked if she found me with a broken arm.”

 Doc nodded and climbed into the train.

 “See you in the future,” Marty waved to him.

 Doc waved a farewell to Marty and the train’s doors snapped shut. Then the train’s wheels folded in and the locomotive floated into the air and accelerated into the heavens.

Marty pulled the box up to his chest and carried it hurriedly into Doc’s garage. He dropped it on the floor with a sigh of relief. That one was heavy! He returned to his truck and pulled out the last box and dropped it off inside. Marty climbed in his truck and drove back to the forest.

 Doc had pulled out the last few boxes from the train and placed them on the grass as Marty pulled up. “That’s it,” Doc called to Marty as he stepped out of the truck.

 “Thank God,” Marty lifted another box and placed it in the back of his truck. “I thought we’d never finish.”

 “Thanks for the help, Marty,” Clara stood at Doc’s side. “Help him,” she urged her husband.
 Doc obeyed and lifted up a box and placed it in the back of Marty’s truck. He and Marty loaded up the truck with the last of the boxes.

 “So what are you going to do with the train now?” Marty asked the scientist. “Destroy it?”

 “That would be for the best,” Doc nodded. “Although it breaks my heart to destroy my greatest invention and never use it again.”

 “But it’s for the best,” Clara reminded him.

 “But what if you decide you want to return to 1887?” Doc asked her. “What if you decide you don’t like living in 1985?”

 “Well, there won’t be much I can do about that,” Clara said. “No. I think it doesn’t matter where or when you live, but who you live with. And as long as I have you, Emmett, and the boys, I’ll be happy. No matter what the year on the calendar says.”

 Doc nodded. He really hoped she meant it, because once he dismantled the time machine it would be very difficult to construct a new one.

 “Where are the boys?” Marty asked.

 “In the train. I saw them fiddling with the main panel,” Clara said. “I’d better get them before they accidently start something.”

 Clara climbed in the train.

 “It’s great to have you back, Doc,” Marty patted his friend on the back. “So I guess this is it for time travelling.”

 “I suppose,” Doc answered. “But you never know what the future might bring.”

 At the instant, Doc and Marty heard a whoosh escape from the train and the locomotive suddenly began to move forward, chugging through the earth’s soil.

 “Great Scott!” Doc cried.

 Doc ran after the train as it plowed slowly through the forest. “Clara! Clara, what’s happening?”

 Doc reached his hand out to grab for the door and Clara poked her head out. “Emmett! The “ACCELERATION” lever is stuck! I can’t stop the train!”

 The train began gaining speed now and was heading for a thicket of trees. “Clara!” Doc cried. “Hurry! Turn on the hover circuits! That blue lever connected to the floor!”

 Clara disappeared into the train. As the train hurried away from Doc the machine’s wheels suddenly folded in and the train hovered into the sky, away from Doc and the forest. Doc watched as it ascended into the sky. There had to be a way to stop the train. Doc was sure Clara would figure it out.

 But then a blue light engulfed the train and Doc’s eyes went wide. The train disappeared leaving fire tracks in the sky.

 “Great Scott!” Doc said again.

 Marty ran up behind his friend. “They’re gone! Doc, they can get back here right? Clara can figure it out, right?”

 Doc didn’t reply. The empty afternoon sky stared back at them, the fire tracks slowly fading as if the locomotive had never been in the sky at all.