Author note: Due to similarities across universes, some of the dialogue used in this chapter is the same or similar to dialogue in the movies.
Chapter 1 - Parallel
Oct 25 1985 08 19 01
In an unoccupied garage on John F. Kennedy Drive, dozens of clocks were all ticking in sync. A radio suddenly turned on, playing an ad about 1985 model Toyotas. After a few seconds, an old television flickered to life. On the screen, a female news anchor reported, "Officials at the Pacific Nuclear Research Facility have denied the rumor that the case of missing plutonium was in fact stolen from their vault two weeks ago. A Libyan terrorist group had claimed responsibility for the alleged theft; however, the officials now claim it was a simple clerical error." Next to the television, a toaster dinged and revealed toast that was completely charred. A robotic arm grabbed a can of dog food, held it to an automatic can opener, and then dumped its contents into a dog bowl already overflowing with a week's worth of food. Behind the dripping dog food, the name "Einstein" was still visible on the bowl.
Outside, a black Toyota 4x4 roared into the driveway. Its driver, Marty McFly, exited the pickup and walked towards the garage. He slowly opened a side door, kicking empty boxes and papers out of the way. "Doc?! Are you there?" He examined the house's state of disrepair. "Crazy old quack," he muttered to himself under his breath. Spotting an electric guitar in the corner, he picked it up and plugged it into a giant amplifier. He set the volume to 5 and began playing. Marty improvised a solo, cranked up the volume on the amp, and hit a power chord. The amp burst, blowing Marty back into a pile of debris. "Whoa, rock and roll," he said to himself.
Just then, the phone rang, and Marty picked it up. "Hello?"
"Marty! Good, you're there," said a rushed and anxious-sounding voice on the other end of the line.
"Marty, I told you to call me—"
"Right, 'Doc.' What's going on?"
"I need you to meet me at Lone Pine Mall at 1:15 A.M."
"1:15? Doc, Mr. Strickland assigned me two weeks' detention, which ends today. So, I think I won't be—" He paused. "Where's Einstein, is he with you?"
"Yeah, he's right here."
"You know Doc, you left your equipment on all week."
"My equipment! That reminds me, Marty. You better not hook up to the amplifier. There's a slight possibility for overload."
"Yeah, I'll keep that in mind."
"Marty, I need your help tonight." Just then, all the clocks started going off at the same time, making it impossible to communicate. Finally, the noise from all the clocks died down. "Are those clocks I hear?"
"Yeah, it's 8:00."
"They're late! My experiment worked! They're all exactly 25 minutes slow."
"Wait a minute. Wait a minute, Doc. Are you telling me it's 8:25?"
"Damn! I'm late for school!"
As Marty slammed the phone down and grabbed his keys, he didn't notice the bright yellow case labeled "Plutonium: Handle with Care." The sound of his Toyota's screeching tires echoed through the neighborhood as Marty hurried to school.
As Marty walked up the steps of the high school, he ran into a brown-haired girl.
"Marty, don't go this way," she warned. "Strickland's looking for you. If you're caught it'll be four tardies in a row."
Marty had developed a habit of arriving to school late, which got him into this mess with Doc in the first place. The girl ushered him to the side entrance of the school and peeked around the corner. "Alright, c'mon, I think we're safe."
They walked only a few feet when a booming voice interrupted them.
"Late again, McFly?" asked Strickland accusingly. The bald, never aging, hard ass principal of Hill Valley High always had it out for Marty. Marty's father had told him that Strickland was always like this. "Tardy slip for you, Miss Parker. And one for you, McFly," he said, turning to Marty. "I believe that makes four in a row."
"It wasn't my fault," Marty exclaimed. "Doc's clocks—"
"Doc!?" interrupted Strickland. He had always refused to call the unusual old scientist a doctor, saying that only medical doctors deserved the title. Strickland didn't allow students to call Doc by his preferred nickname. Doc didn't seem to mind too much, but he always insisted that Marty call him Doc.
"Mr. Brown, I mean," Marty said, correcting himself. "I was supposed to go over to help him with his research."
"Now, let me give you a nickel's worth of free advice, young man. When a teacher does you a favor and allows you to serve your detention to assist in his research, I suggest you thank him instead of blaming him for your mistakes."
"Oh, yes sir," said Marty sarcastically.
"You got a real attitude problem, McFly. You're a slacker!" Strickland jabbed his finger into Marty's chest. "Just like your father. He was a slacker, too."
"Still writing those little fantasies of his? Now, with your fourth tardy in as many days, that'll be another week's worth of detention. I imagine you and Mr. Brown will become very close."
"Does it not bother you that this nutcase specifically requested that I help him with his research?" Marty gestured scare quotes as he said the last word. Marty still couldn't figure out why Doc had singled him out, or even what research he was doing. Plenty of other kids got detention, but Doc never requested their assistance with his work.
"You will do well to learn some respect, especially to the staff at Hill Valley High School, even if . . ." Mr. Strickland didn't finish his thought, but his opinion of the eccentric science teacher was clear.
"Can I go now, Mr. Strickland?" Marty asked.
"I noticed your band is on the roster for dance auditions after school today," Strickland replied, ignoring Marty's question. "Why even bother, McFly? You haven't got a chance. You'll never amount to anything." He smirked at Marty and finally walked away.
"Sorry, Jennifer," Marty said apologetically. He grimaced. "I can't believe I have to spend another week with that mad scientist."
"He's not that bad. At least you don't have to go to normal detention."
"No, I just have to keep on doing weird experiments with those clocks. That man is obsessed with time. As soon as a clock gets off by a minute, he's so fascinated by it. I don't ever see what he actually does to the clocks."
Marty and Jennifer walked in late to their science class. They were both in Doc's physics class, but Doc wasn't there. It had been a week since anyone had seen the science teacher, but his behavior was so unpredictable that nobody thought anything of it. Miss Ochoa, Doc's substitute, was practically a member of the permanent staff at this point. There were plenty of rumors about Doc that were often a topic of discussion amongst the students. The prevailing theory was that he had a dream of becoming an astronaut, but his dream was crushed once he reached the height of 6' 5"—one inch taller than the maximum allowable height at NASA. This was the beginning of his descent into madness, which even led to a short stint at a mental institution after being committed. There was also a claim that Doc was immortal and never aged. There was no actual evidence that any of this was true, although there were always claims of physical evidence that never seemed to get produced, like a photo from a newspaper showing Doc being escorted to the nuthouse in a straitjacket, or an old photograph from the 1950s showing Doc looking exactly the same as he did now. Nobody really knew why he asked to become the science teacher at Hill Valley, but since he was overqualified for the vacancy, very few questions were asked.
The school day couldn't go by quickly enough. Marty had been dreaming about performing on stage for as long as he could remember. If his band could perform well in the audition, they could actually get their first gig. After the final bell rang, Marty and his bandmates rushed to the school auditorium and began setting up their equipment. The judges, who sat at a table directly in front of the band, indicated that they were ready. Marty's band, The Pinheads, began playing their rendition of "Rock the Casbah" by The Clash. Jennifer stood nearby, admiring the performance.
But the head judge almost immediately began to look side to side at each of his colleagues. He picked up his megaphone. "Okay, that's enough." The band abruptly stopped playing. "I'm sorry fellas," he said. "These are auditions to perform at the dance. I'm afraid you just can't dance to this music. Next, please. Where's the next group, please."
Dejected, The Pinheads packed up their equipment and exited the stage. After loading their gear into the truck, Marty and Jennifer walked to nearby Courthouse Square and sat on a bench.
Jennifer broke the silence. "Can't dance to it!? I can't believe it!"
"One rejection isn't the end of the world," responded Marty.
"Yeah, but this was your chance to perform in front of a real audience."
"There will be other chances," Marty said optimistically. "I mean, there are better places to play than a stupid dance where the music is picked by a teacher. Besides, I have my demo tape of our original music that I'm going to send to the record company. Like my dad always says, 'If you put your mind to it, you can accomplish anything.'"
"That's good advice, Marty," Jennifer replied, squeezing his hand.
"So, are you ready to take this truck up to the lake?" Marty said, changing the subject. "Throw a couple of sleeping bags in the back and lie under the stars?"
"Does your dad know about tomorrow night?" asked Marty.
"No, get out of town! My dad thinks I'm going camping with the girls. He'd freak out if he knew I was going up there with you."
"He's just trying to keep you respectable," Marty grinned.
"Well, he's not doing a very good job." Jennifer leaned in for a kiss, but the moment was interrupted by a can of coins rattling in their faces.
"Save the clock tower! Save the clock tower!" chirped an old lady, nearly yelling. "Mayor Wilson is sponsoring an initiative to replace that clock. Thirty years ago, lightning struck that clock tower and the clock hasn't run since. We at the Hill Valley Preservation Society think it should be preserved exactly the way it is as part of our history and heritage."
"Here you go lady, here's a quarter," said Jennifer, dropping a coin into the can.
"Thank you," the lady said, holding out a piece of paper. "Don't forget to take a flyer."
Jennifer took the flyer, and the lady walked away yelling "save the clock tower" to no one in particular.
"Now, where were we?" Jennifer said to Marty. She leaned in and kissed him.
Later that afternoon, Marty pulled his truck in front of Jennifer's house. "I'll call you later tonight," he said as Jennifer climbed out of the truck.
"I'll be at my grandma's. Here, let me give you the number." She scribbled a phone number down on the back of the Preservation Society's flyer. "Bye!"
When Marty arrived at home, his family was already sitting down to an elegant dinner. Marty's older brother, still in his suit from his job at the office, was talking business with his father. Middle child Linda was talking on the phone, oblivious to her surroundings. Mother Lorraine entered the dining room with the final dish of the meal, setting it on the table. Linda finally hung up the phone.
"Boy oh boy mom, you sure can sous vide a chicken," said Linda.
"Done talking with Craig?" Dave teased.
"Daaave!" responded Linda, slightly annoyed.
"Oh, Dave? Didn't know there was a Dave in the mix too."
"For your information, it was Greg. Now, can we please eat dinner? Paul will be picking me up in an hour."
"Well, I can't keep up with all your boyfriends."
George turned to Marty. "How was the audition? I can't wait to hear The Pinheads in concert."
"Not so good. We didn't get the gig."
"Well Marty, those judges don't know what they're missing out on," Lorraine said, entering the conversation. "Do you know how many times your father was rejected before someone finally offered to publish his book?"
"Yes, we've heard this story a million times," interjected Linda. "When do we get to see a copy of this book, anyway?"
"Should be coming in any day now," responded George. "It's just like I always say, 'If you put your mind to it . . ."
"You can accomplish anything," repeated the whole family in unison.
"At least you've got your trip to the lake tomorrow to look forward to," Lorraine said encouragingly to Marty.
"That's right!" George said. "Biff will be coming to the house tomorrow. Why don't you leave your truck here in the morning and I'll make sure it gets cleaned and waxed before you head to the lake. Don't want to show up to your date in a filthy truck."
"Make sure he puts two coats of wax on this time," interjected Dave.
The McFlys sat down to eat dinner, and the support of his family helped Marty feel encouraged and confident about his music career. After dinner, he went to his room and packaged up his demo tape. He fell asleep on his bed without changing out of his clothes.
Well after midnight, Marty was startled awake by the ringing of his phone.
"Hello," Marty said groggily into the receiver.
"Marty! You didn't fall asleep, did you?" Doc said from the other end of the line.
"Uh, Mister—Doc," Marty sat up, correcting himself. "Uh, no. No, don't be silly."
"Listen, this is very important. I forgot my video camera, could you stop by my place and pick it up on your way to the mall?"
"Um, yeah, I'm on my way." Marty got out of bed and quietly grabbed his skateboard, trying not to wake his family. After he stopped by Doc's place to pick up the video camera, he headed to the mall.
As he approached Lone Pine Mall, Marty saw a big truck that looked like it may have been a repurposed bakery truck. On its side were the words "Dr. E. Brown Enterprises." Not knowing what he got himself into, Marty nervously looked around the parking lot for Doc. Einstein was sitting down nearby, staring at the truck.
"Einstein, hey Einstein," Marty said, petting the good-natured sheepdog. "Where's the Doc, boy, huh?"
At that moment, the back door of the truck began to open slowly, and a thick fog seeped out. As the door continued to open, it unfolded into a ramp. Marty and Einstein continued to stare as truck's brake lights became visible through the dissipating fog. An engine roared, and a stainless steel DeLorean with the license plate "OUTATIME" slowly backed out of the truck. After coming to a stop, the wing-like door of the DeLorean opened and Doc stepped out of the vehicle, staring absent mindedly into the distance and seemingly unaware of Marty or Einstein's presence.
"Marty!" he exclaimed, startled. "You made it."
"Welcome to my latest experiment. It's the one I've been waiting for all my life."
"Um, well, it's a DeLorean, right?" Marty was clearly impressed.
"Bear with me, Marty. All of your questions will be answered. Roll tape, we'll proceed."
"Doc, is that a De—"
"Never mind that now, never mind that now."
"Alright, I'm ready."
Marty pulled out the video camera and began to record. Doc composed himself, stood up straight, and looked into the lens. "Good evening, I'm Dr. Emmett Brown. I'm standing in the parking lot of Lone Pine Mall. It's Saturday morning, October 26, 1985, 1:18 A.M., and this is temporal experiment number one." He turned to Einstein and waved him towards the DeLorean. "C'mon, Einy, hey hey boy, get in there, atta boy, in you go, get down, that's it." Einstein jumped into the driver's seat of the car and Doc buckled him up. "Please note that Einstein's clock is in complete synchronization with my control watch." Doc held up both stopwatches, which simultaneously changed from 1:18 to 1:19.
"Right, check, Doc," Marty said as he continued to film.
"Good. Have a good trip Einstein, watch your head," Doc said to the dog as he closed the door to the DeLorean. He pulled out a remote control.
"You have that thing hooked up to the . . . car?" Marty asked Doc incredulously.
"Watch this," responded Doc, unwilling to give Marty any hints of what was about to occur. Doc began pushing the controls on the remote, and the car reversed quickly away from them. Doc continued to get the DeLorean in place as Marty, still filming, panned over from the car to Doc. "Not me, the car!" Marty quickly pointed the camera back on Einstein and the DeLorean.
The DeLorean was now in position on the opposite side of the mall parking lot, facing Marty and Doc. "If my calculations are correct," said Doc to Marty, "When this baby hits 88 miles per hour, you're gonna see some serious shit."
Marty was nervous. He knew that Doc was eccentric but mostly harmless, but this was Marty's first direct encounter with one of his experiments. Maybe the others were right. Maybe Doc was an insane and dangerous scientist.
There was no time to react. Marty was frozen when Doc hit the controls and the DeLorean's wheels started moving. The DeLorean, however, remained in place due to the tires being slightly elevated. As the wheels kept moving faster, the odometer on Doc's remote moved up.
20 . . . 30 . . . 40 . . .
Doc looked at Marty, Marty looked back. Doc's expression was one of excited anticipation, while Marty was wearing one of confusion and fear. Doc gave Marty a reassuring nod, although Marty didn't seem to take much comfort in it.
50 . . . 60 . . . 70 . . .
Doc flipped a switch on his controls and the car began moving at a good clip right towards them. Marty attempted to step out of the pathway of the car, but Doc grabbed him and pulled him back. "Watch this, watch this," Doc said to Marty.
80 . . . 85 . . . 86 . . . 87 . . .
The car was still headed right for them, and now they had no time to get out of the way. Marty closed his eyes, expecting never to open them again, when the DeLorean began glowing and electric sparks surrounded the vehicle.
The car disappeared, and two fiery tracks trailed between Doc and Marty's legs where the DeLorean's tires should have been.
"You could've killed me!" yelled Marty.
"Ha, what did I tell you!" exclaimed Doc, oblivious to Marty's complaint. "Eighty-eight miles per hour. The temporal displacement occurred at exactly 1:20 A.M. and zero seconds."
All that remained from the DeLorean was the "OUTATIME" license plate that was spinning in the middle of the parking lot. Marty went to inspect the plate and burned his finger on the metal. "Hot, Jesus Christ, Doc! Jesus Christ, Doc, you almost killed us, you disintegrated Einstein! The old man has finally lost it." Marty muttered the last part to himself.
"Calm down, Marty, I didn't disintegrate anything. The molecular structure of Einstein and the car are completely intact."
"Where the hell are they?"
"The appropriate question is, when the hell are they. Einstein has just become the world's first time traveler. I sent him into the future." Doc paused for dramatic effect. "One minute into the future to be exact. And at exactly 1:21 A.M. we should catch up with him and the time machine."
"Wait a minute, wait a minute, Doc, are you telling me that you built a time machine . . . out of a DeLorean?"
"The way I see it, if you're gonna build a time machine, why not do it with some style. Besides, the stainless steel construction made the flux dispersal—" Interrupted by a beeping on his watch, Doc grabbed Marty and pulled him to the side. "Look out!"
Doc yelled just in time, as they were still standing in original path of the DeLorean, which just reappeared after being displaced by a minute. The car came to a screeching stop and was covered with ice, but the heat from the engine caused a steaming effect. Doc hesitantly walked over to the time machine and touched the door handle. "Ahhhhh!"
"What, is it hot?" Marty asked Doc.
"It's cold. Damn cold." Doc lifted his foot to the handle of the door, the sound of crunching ice echoing into the night sky as he managed to open it. "Ha, ha, ha, Einstein, you little devil," Doc said, petting Einstein, who seemed completely unfazed by his little trip. "Einstein's clock is exactly one minute behind mine, it's still ticking!" Doc held his control stopwatch to Einstein's to prove his point.
"He's fine, and he's completely unaware that anything happened. As far as he's concerned, the trip was instantaneous. That's why Einstein's watch is exactly one minute behind mine. He skipped over that minute to instantly arrive at this moment in time. Come here, I'll show you how it works." Doc entered the car and sat down. "First, you turn the time circuits on." He flipped a switch in the center of the console, and a digital display showed three different rows. Each row had displays labeled "Month, Day, Year, Hour, Min," along with a button to indicate AM/PM. On the far right, there was an unlabeled value that read 01. "This readout tells you where you're going, this one tells you where you are, this one tells you where you were," Doc explained. "You input the destination time on this keypad. Say, you wanna see the signing of the Declaration of Independence," Doc said, flipping a switch.
Jul 04 1776 06 00 01
"Or witness the birth of Christ—"
Dec 25 0000 06 00 01
"Any date you want you can put in here." Doc input a default date value, then subtly flipped a switch without Marty noticing.
Oct 26 1985 01 24 00
"And of course, the part that makes time travel possible. The flux capacitor," Doc pointed to the center of the car, where the three pronged electric device was still dimly lit. "It's taken me almost thirty years and my entire family fortune to realize the vision of that day. My god, has it been that long? Things have certainly changed around here. I remember when this was all farmland as far as the eye could see. Old man Peabody, owned all of this. He had these crazy ideas about an alien invasion, he claimed one of them had destroyed his pine."
"This is uh, this is heavy duty, Doc, this is great," said Marty, interested in Doc's research for the first time. "And here I thought you were just some crazy, out of touch science teacher. Uh, does it run on regular unleaded gasoline?"
"Unfortunately no, it requires something with a little more kick. Plutonium."
"Uh, plutonium, wait a minute," Marty said as he set down the video camera, "Are you telling me that this sucker's nuclear?" Marty's attitude had quickly changed as he realized that Doc may in fact be a mad scientist.
"Hey, hey, keep rolling, keep rolling there," Doc said, directing Marty to pick the video camera back up. "No, no, no, no, this sucker's electrical. But I need a nuclear reaction to generate the one point twenty-one jigawatts of electricity that I need."
Marty set down the camera again, still in disbelief, "Doc, you don't just walk into a store and ask for plutonium. Did you rip this off?"
"Of course, from a group of Libyan nationalists," Doc said. "They wanted me to build them a bomb, so I took their plutonium and in turn gave them a shiny bomb case full of used pinball machine parts." He was nearly laughing, clearly pleased with successfully fooling the Libyans.
"Jesus," exclaimed Marty.
"Let's get you into a radiation suit, we must prepare to reload." Marty put on a yellow radiation suit while Doc opened a case meant to store fragile or dangerous materials. Inside there were 12 large vials, and Doc, now wearing his full hazmat suit and helmet, carefully grabbed one of the vials. Inside the vial was a long thin red tube suspended in a clear liquid. Marty, also now in a full hazmat suit, was recording. Doc then inserted the vial of plutonium into the DeLorean after unscrewing a device that was designed for these particular vials. The red tube was sucked out of the vial and Doc then returned it back to the case, now just filled with clear liquid.
Doc, now with his hazmat hood removed, grabbed his luggage and placed it in the DeLorean. He repeatedly looked at his watch, as if he were worried about the timing of his actions.
"The future, it's where you're going?" asked Marty, no longer recording Doc.
"That's right, twenty-five years into the future. I've always dreamed of seeing the future, looking beyond my years, seeing the progress of mankind. I'll also be able to see who wins the next twenty-five World Series."
"Uh, look me up when you get there."
"Indeed I will," Doc glanced at his watch again, now seemingly realizing he must hurry. "Roll 'em!"
Marty picked up the video camera again and began recording Doc. "I, Doctor Emmett Brown, am about to embark on an historic journey." There was a faux confidence and a bit of nervousness in his voice. "What have I been thinking of, I almost forgot to bring some extra plutonium. How did I ever expect to get back, one pallet one trip, I must be out of my mind." As Doc walked over to the plutonium, Einstein, sitting in the truck wearing a customized hazmat suit and hood, was barking at something. "What is it Einy?" Doc looked around and saw something approaching in the distance. "Oh my god, they found me, I don't know how but they found me. Run for it, Marty!" Doc yelled, as if he had rehearsed it.
"Who do you think, the Libyans!" Doc pointed at a blue VW bus approaching. A man popped out of the open sunroof with an automatic weapon pointed towards them.
Marty panned over, still recording, "Holy shit!" The Libyans began shooting, and Marty ducked behind the DeLorean as Doc attempted to dodge the approaching bullets that were hitting the truck.
"Unroll their fire!" yelled Doc. Marty looked back confused. Doc pulled out a gun as the Libyans continued to fire, but Doc apparently never bothered to learn how to use this weapon. He pulled the trigger, but nothing happened. In shock, he examined the gun by looking straight down the barrel.
"Doc, wait!" yelled Marty as Doc ran away from more bullets. Doc tried to protect himself behind the truck, but the Libyans cut him off. There was a pause, and the gunman in the bus pointed his automatic rifle at Doc. Doc put his hands up and threw his gun away. Marty looked with anticipation as the pause seemed to last forever. Gunfire broke the silence, with several bullets piercing through Doc's suit.
"Nooooooooo! Bastards!" yelled Marty. The Libyans, seemingly unaware of Marty until his outburst, turned toward him and began shooting. Marty ducked behind the truck, shielding himself from the oncoming bullets. He then tried to make a run for it around the other side of the truck but was cut off by the Libyans. Just like Doc, it seemed that Marty would meet his demise. The gunman pulled the trigger and Marty flinched, but as luck would have it, the gun was jammed. The gunman, frustrated, was furiously trying to get the rifle working. Marty snapped out of a state of shock and dived into the DeLorean. As he floored it, the Libyans followed close behind, now with a working rifle. As Marty put the car into gear, he bumped the time circuits on. He continued to evade the attackers, swerving in and out and accelerating, making the DeLorean a difficult target to hit. Marty was approaching 85 mph but took a quick right turn toward a JCPenney sign, decelerating in the process. The Libyans also made the turn, and in the rear view mirror Marty caught a glimpse of the gunman, who was setting down his rifle and grabbing a rocket launcher.
"Holy shit! Let's see if these bastards can do 90," Marty said to himself, slamming the gas pedal to the floor. He was headed right toward a kiosk in the middle of the mall parking lot, still approaching 90 mph, when a flash of light flickered, temporarily blinding him. Marty thought the rocket launcher had been fired and the flash of light was an explosion, but in a blink of an eye he was on the other side of the kiosk. The Libyans on the other hand appeared to have smashed right into the kiosk that was now on fire.
"How did I avoid the kiosk, I was headed right for it!" thought Marty. But he didn't have time to dwell on it. He rushed over to Doc. "Doc, doc, wake up," he said, as he softly slapped Doc on the face. It was useless. Doc had taken several bullets to the chest and he had no pulse. Marty heard sirens in the distance and did not have time to wonder who might have called the police. Instead, he only had time to consider what the police might conclude once they found 3 dead bodies, along with stolen plutonium and an experimental DeLorean. Fearing that he may be blamed, he grabbed his skateboard and the case and put it in the DeLorean. As he left the mall, he drove right by the "Twin Pines Mall" sign, now reading 1:46 A.M.
After getting a safe distance away, Marty stopped the car by a new neighborhood still partially under construction. He was near the back of the neighborhood where most homes were still in the early stages of construction. There was a billboard that read, "Hilldale, your future home."
"C'mon Marty, think," Marty said to himself. "I just need some time to figure this all out. Wait a minute, I have all the time I want, I'm sitting in a time machine!" Marty exclaimed, wondering why it took him so long to figure this out. While Marty never liked Doc, he certainly never wished for his death. Besides, he didn't want to go to prison for being involved in his death or his clearly illegal experiments. "If I just go back in time to before the Libyans arrive I can warn Doc before he gets killed." Marty put in the new destination time. "Thirty minutes ought to do it."
Oct 26 1985 01 16 01
With the time circuits now set, Marty let up the clutch and started to push down the gas when the DeLorean suddenly died. "No, no, c'mon," Marty attempted to restart the car, but the engine wouldn't turn over. Marty heard sirens once again, which put him in a panic. He put the DeLorean in neutral and pushed it behind the Hilldale sign. He then grabbed his skateboard and found a car cover in the trunk that he put over the DeLorean. He tried to hide the DeLorean even more by grabbing nearby branches and debris to cover it up.
Marty skateboarded home and was about to sneak into his bedroom window when he noticed the garage, wide open and empty. "My truck's been stolen!" he thought in shock. Just then, a bus stops nearby and Dave stepped out and walked toward the house wearing a Burger King uniform and hat. "Dave! Where the hell is it?" Marty yelled, pointing at the empty garage.
"Biff wrecked it, remember?"
"What was Biff doing driving my truck?"
"What are you wearing, Dave?"
"I always wear my uniform to work, my shift just ended. You alright?"
A police car suddenly pulled up. Marty was too confused and distracted to notice the sirens earlier. He decided to run for it, jumping over a fence into a neighbor's backyard. He then kept jumping over fences until he ended up on an adjacent street. Looking back through a hole in the fence he last hopped, he checked to see if he had been followed. Confident that he had lost them, he turned around only to catch a glimpse of a police officer with a nightstick . . .