Don’t get used to this people, my creative writing operatives on a distinctive whim.
Part 2 of my BTTF AU
Part 1 can be found here
Marty woke up around 9 in the morning, used the bathroom and was grateful the water taps were still on. He hoped there weren’t any showings for the house today because there was no way he could smuggle the DeLorean out in broad daylight. making as little noise as possible, he left the vacant lot, jumped a couple of fences and made his way back to his house. The car was there. The car that Biff had wrecked was there, looking like it was in the middle of being washed but had been abandoned. He walked up the steps and nearly tripped on box on the front porch. Marty panicked and rushed behind the garage. The door opened and George stepped out, looking around a bit and noticing the box on the ground.
“It’s here!”
As George rushed back inside he didn’t even bother closing the front door. Marty crept up again and strained to listen what was going on. It sounded like they were headed to the kitchen and he risked a peek inside. The furniture was different, more expensive looking and different shades of cream. More people were moving about and headed to where George was unpacking the box.
The entire family had assembled for this and Marty crept into the living room. George was pulling something out. His mom exclaimed “George, it finally came out!”
Before Marty could find out what he heard heavy steps behind him and was face to knee with the most puzzling sight of all: Biff Tannen, bane of his family’s existence, in a green tracksuit and with a grin. “You wanna see it?”
Marty was afraid Biff’s voice would attract attention but no one came out and Marty just went along with it “Uh, sure Biff, where is it?” And Biff just waved him outside. He’d opened the garage and inside was that truck. The Toyota, black and shiny. His face had dropped a bit. It was his. And it wasn’t. It was that other Marty’s. He heard him with the rest of his family. Laughing. Enjoying himself. Biff took him out of his reverie “Taking it out of a spin?”
Marty thought about it, the truck would only be useful for about 20 minutes until his other self talked to Biff, even if Biff discounted it, it wouldn’t take too long for the police to put an APB on it. He’d started realizing he would need cash but he didn’t know the first thing about selling a stolen truck. But looking at Biff, this Biff who apparently wasn’t the piece of manure he knew, whose tracksuit showed him as the owner of a garage. He took a small leap of faith.
“Maybe later Biff, say I want to do a nice gift for my dad for his upcoming Birthday, but I don’t want Mom, Dave or Linda to know about it.”
Biff’s eyes lit up “Sure Marty, what do you need?” Marty’s face split into a small scheming smile. “How much you got on you?”
* * *
Marty, now $120 richer, quickly left his house behind. Biff had offered him to take the truck again, and could clearly see worry creasing hi face. “Sure Biff, just…if I ask you later where the truck is….ah never mind.” He grabbed the keys, and sat in the black Toyota SR5. He took half a moment to enjoy the feeling, started the truck and drove out. Biff was actually waving goodbye at him. That creeped him out the most.
After grabbing a quick breakfast from a drive thru Marty went to the mall and bought himself a couple of change of clothes, a duffel bag and a few basic necessities. He made his way back into town, which he couldn’t help notice looked just a bit cleaner than he remembered. He parked out of sight in a nearby alley and headed towards the courthouse, where he hoped the town records would shed some light on what happened to Doc. He was crossing the parking lot in front of the courthouse and there was the Save the Clocktower guy, still handing pamplets. He still had his copy with Jennifer’s phone number on it stuffed in his pocket. Before all his troubles started. Before there were two Marty’s.
Nostalgia made him pull out the crumpled piece of paper and was surprised to see it had changed. It couldn’t be. He now ran to the courthouse and saw the bronze plaque. He didn’t want to believe it. Making his way into the hall of records he went to the archival newspapers, used the machine, and scrolled back to the morning edition of November 11, 1955.
There was at least one question answered. It simplified and complicated matters immensely. The front page simply read.
“DOCTOR EMMETT BROWN ELECTROCUTED AT CLOCK TOWER”
“Oh, Doc no.” Marty was then truly on his own.
* * *
He spent some time in records and then moved to the public library to look at current events. Everything else seemed pretty much the same.
“Except me.”
Marty was a stranger in his own house, his own family. Hell his own…was she even his girlfriend? Marty stepped out of the town’s library carrying several physics books he hoped might help him and went back to his truck. He had enough cash to spend a couple of nights at a motel 6 and eat but after that, money would be an issue…
He thought back to the Doc, and the memorial plaque that was now affixed at the entrance to the courthouse. These people couldn’t even begin to understand the genius that was Emmett Brown. The setup he’d left behind had baffled local officials and the scale model found in his home only confused them further. The only legacy of Doc Brown was that plaque. And the time machine he never built. There was a long road ahead to set things right.
First thing was to get the DeLorean somewhere safe. If the authorities found it he could kiss any hope of going back to the world he knew goodbye. He booked a room at the Indian Head Motor Court just outside of town. It was a risk to stay so close to Hill Valley but he needed to bank on using his doppelganger’s identity for a while longer.
He didn’t want to get him into too much trouble. But it might become necessary.