Categories > Movies > Back to the Future > Back to the Clue
Chapter Six: Emmett and James reunion, take 2...
0 reviewsIn which nightmares are had, the DeLorean is retrieved, and a terrifying fate is discovered in Emmett's future
0Unrated
Disclaimer: The Back to the Future belong to Robert Zemeckis and Bob Gale, while the Clue characters belong to John Landis, Jonathan Lynn and Parker Brothers (technically). However, the name I made up for Professor Plum is totally mine.
"The only way to make a man trustworthy is to trust him." - Henry Stimson
-----------------
This is insane, he thinks as he glances around the corner of the saloon at the scene in the main street. Emmett and Marty have been caught by a mysterious gunman, and are now being held by his henchmen, who bear an eerie resemblance to the cop, Col. Mustard's former driver, and the fake Mr. Boddy.
"Listen up, Professor!" the gunman shouts, speaking with the English accented voice that has haunted his nightmares for a year now. "I fully intend to shoot someone today, and I would prefer it to be you. However ..." He chuckles darkly, pulling out the revolver James had been given. "If you're too much of a coward, I'm afraid it will just have to be your brother."
Emmett struggles against his captors. "Don't listen to him, James! Save yourself!"
James ducks back around the saloon. What can he do?
"Time's up", the gunman barks. To James' horror, he pulls back the hammer-
"Right here, Boddy!" he shouts, stepping out into the street.
Boddy laughs darkly. "I knew you would come."
"You murdered her. The singing telegram girl", James snarls. "Of course I came."
"She brought it on herself, Professor. After all, she did give me the information willingly."
"And then you disposed of her", James finishes. "Like you would have done to the rest of us, given the chance." He pulls his coat back, revealing his own gun. "Shall we finish this?"
"Yes", Mr. Boddy replies, sliding the revolver into his own holster. "Let's."
It should be so easy, James thinks as they back away into position. The man doesn't have a chance.
Casually, his gaze scans the growing crowd and spots among the unknown faces those of the other guests. //Col./ Mustard, dressed as one of the saloon's patrons. Mr. Green as a sheriff's deputy, perhaps a subconscious nod to the fact that he was an FBI plant the whole time./
Mrs. Peacock and Mrs. White, dressed as honest women did at the time. Yvette and Ms. Scarlet; both dressed as prostitutes.
Way to go, subconscious... he mentally sighs. He returns his attention to Mr. Boddy, who is now grinning, the same Joker grin he sported when Mr. Green revealed his identity as the true blackmailer.
It should be so easy, he thinks. After all he only has one bullet left...
"Ready?" Mr. Boddy asks.
...Or does he?
"Ready."
Everything goes silent.
"Draw!"
As they simultaneously draw their guns-
-----------------
"Hey kids! What time is it?"
James woke up with a start. It was morning now, and the storm had blown over. Briefly looking around, he was shocked for the second time when Emmett sat straight up. "Great Scott", he gasped, apparently not noticing his younger brother or Marty.
Standing, he first ran over to the four photographs on the mantle, then to the television, accidentally knocking the hoverboard out from under Marty's feet in the process. Kneeling by the television, he muttered "Howdy-Doody time?" to no one in particular before switching it off.
He was clearly a man on a mission, because the next thing he ran over to was a tape recorder. Pressing the record button, he quickly began speaking into it.
"Date: Sunday, November thirteenth, 1955, 7:01 A.M..."
As Emmett described what happened last night from his point of view to the machine, James stood, calmly watching. Marty, meanwhile, was just waking up, and stretched briefly before he stood. Walking over, he checked the letters, which were somewhat drier then they had been, and carefully removed them from the rope in front of the fireplace.
"...In fact, I don't even remember how I got home..."
As the scientist theorized how he could have possibly forgotten his return home, Marty slowly strode over to Emmett, James ready to back up his arguments if need be.
"Indeed I now recall the moments after the time vehicle disappeared into the future..." He gasped. "I saw a vision of Marty saying he had come back from the future." He snorted.
"Hey, Doc?" Marty said, trying to get his attention.
"Undoubtedly this was some sort of residual image-" he continued, turning around to face Marty.
Once again, Emmett /screamed/, stepping backward in an attempt to get away from what he thought was a ghost. Unfortunately, he accidentally stepped on the hoverboard, causing him to fall backwards onto the organ behind him. As his elbows hit the keys, sinister-sounding notes emanated from its pipes.
Tossing aside the hoverboard, Marty moved over to Emmett in an attempt to calm him down. "Doc, calm down, okay? Just calm down! It's me! It's Marty!"
"No, it can't be you!" Emmett yelped, edging along the organ in an attempt to flee. "I sent you back to the future!"
"That's right, Doc, that's right. But I came back again. I came back from the future. Don't you remember last night? You fainted, I brought you home-"
"This can't be happening!" Emmett shouted, cutting Marty off as he ran towards the bathroom. "You can't be here! It doesn't make sense for you to be here! I refuse to even believe you are here!" Without another word, he slammed the door in Marty's face.
Marty turned to James, who shrugged.
"Doc, I am here and it does make sense!" Marty argued, turning back to the door. "Look, I came back to 155 again with /you/, the you from 1985, 'cause we had to get a book from Biff! So, once I got the book back, you - that is, the you from 1985 - were in the DeLorean and it got struck by lightning, and you got sent back to 1885!" Sighing, he turned away from the door. "He doesn't believe me..."
"Clearly, he's skeptical", James commented, slightly amused.
"/1885?!/" Emmett suddenly called from the bathroom. The door flew open again, and he leaned out to face Marty.
"That's a very interesting story, future boy", he hissed, "but there's just one little thing that doesn't make sense. If the me of the future is now in the past, /how could you possibly know about it/?"
In an instant, James was next to Marty, and he grabbed the letters out of the teenager's hands. "Because you sent us a letter", he finished, holding the letter up for him.
Momentarily curious, he stared at them before turning back to him. "...James?"
He nodded.
"What? But how-?"
"We'll talk about that later. Are the guest bathrooms still upstairs?"
"Yes", Emmett replied, slightly stunned at the interruption.
"Right." He moved towards the nearest flight of stairs. "I'm getting a shower before anything else happens. After the running around I did yesterday, it will be very welcome. I've already looked at the letter on the way over here, so you can go ahead and read it for yourself if you want."
Without another word, he continued up the stairs.
-----------------
/One shower later.../
James strode into the garage/lab, whistling cheerfully. The shower had definitely done a world of good, and he was at least feeling less scruffy-looking than he had in the past.
"You're in a good mood", Marty commented, glancing up from where he was examining some odd helmet-device.
"Why not? I seriously needed that shower."
"Well, after a year on the run..." Marty quipped, grinning.
"Listen, did you talk about..."
"Yeah, and he seems to be taking it well - I think."
"That will have to do for now." James continued, turning to his brother, who was skimming through the letter; "I think it's time we proceeded with the plan to rescue your future self?"
"Right." Clearing his throat, Emmett began reading:
"To Marty and James:
"If my calculations are correct, you will receive this letter immediately after you saw the DeLorean struck by lightning. First, let me assure you that I am alive and well. I've been living happily these past eight months in the year 1885. The lightning bolt that hit the DeLorean caused a gigawatt overload which scrambled the time circuits, activated the flux capacitor, and sent me back to 1885. The overload shorted out the time circuits and destroyed the flying circuits. Unfortunately, the car will never fly again."
Emmett glanced up at him. "It actually flew?"
"Oh, it flew all right..." James shuddered as he recalled having to climb down the flag pennant.
"Yeah, you had a hover conversion done in the early 21st century", Marty added.
"Amazing!" Emmett exclaimed. "I set myself up as a blacksmith as a front while I attempted to repair the damage to the time circuits. Unfortunately, this proved impossible because suitable replacement parts will not be invented until 1947. However, I've gotten quite adept at shoeing horses and fixing wagons! 1885! Amazing. I actually end up as a blacksmith in the old West."
"I have buried the DeLorean in the Del Gato mine adjacent to the old //Boot/ //Hill// /Cemetery/ as shown on the enclosed map. Hopefully it will remain undisturbed and preserved until you uncover it in 1955. Inside, you will find repair instructions. My 1955 counterpart/ - that's me - /should have no problem repairing it so you can drive it back to come and get me. I have set things up so I am leaving on //Monday, September 7th, 1885//, so as to avoid causing suspicion for my disappearance. Once we have returned to 1985, we can begin plans to save James' past self without causing further damage to the time stream via another paradox. Your friend in time, "Doc" Emmett L. Brown, //September 1st, 1885/."
"This..." he said after he set it down, "is really amazing."
Marty groaned. "I'm sorry, Doc, it's all my fault you're stuck back there. I never should have let Biff get to me."
"Oh, there are plenty worse places than the Old West", Emmett reassured him. "I could've ended up in the Dark Ages. They probably would've burned me at the stake as a heretic or something. Let's look at the map."
Included with the letter was a map of the mine, including details ranging from the irrelevant to the overly informative. Emmett looked it over briefly before coming to a decision.
"It says here that the time vehicle is buried in a side tunnel. We may have to blast."
-----------------
/KA-BOOM!/
Debris went flying out of the mine shaft as the dynamite went off.
"Hope no one was around to hear that", James muttered. "That blast was loud enough to wake the dead."
"Marty, take the camera. I want to document everything!"
------------
"This reminds me of the time I attempted to reach the center of the Earth", Emmett reminisced as they moved further into the tunnel. "I'd been reading my favorite author, Jules Verne. I spent weeks preparing that expedition, but I didn't get this far."
"Well, you were twelve at the time", James commented.
"True, true. In his writings, Jules Verne had a profound effect on my life. It was when I was 11 that I first read /Twenty-Thousand Leagues Under the Sea/. It was then that I realized that I must devote my life to science."
"Hey, look at this!" Marty called, gesturing to a strange alcove that was blocked off by rocks and planks, one bearing the initials E.L.B.
"E.L.B..." James breathed. "Emmett Lathrop Brown."
"My initials!" Emmett crowed. "Just like in /Journey to the Center of the Earth/! That means the time machine must be right through this wall!"
After Marty snapped a photo of the wall, they began the relatively easy process of breaking through it. There was the DeLorean, covered in a tarp to protect it from the elements.
"It's been buried there for seventy years, two months and thirteen days. Astounding!"
------------
"As you can see, the lightning bolt shorted out the time circuit control microchip", Marty read as Emmett examined the part in question. "The attached sch-schem-"
"Schematic", Emmett and James simultaneously corrected.
"-schematic diagram will allow you to build a replacement unit with 1955 components, thus restoring the time machine to perfect working order."
"Unbelievable that this little piece of junk could be such a big problem", Emmett sighed. Turning the chip over, he took a closer look before holding it up for Marty and James' inspection. "No wonder this circuit failed", he added. "It says, "Made in Japan"."
Marty glanced up at him. "What do you mean, Doc? All the best stuff is made in Japan."
James shrugged. "Future things."
"Unbelievable!"
------------
By that night, they'd rented a tow truck and were now winching the DeLorean onto it.
"You know, when I was a kid, I always wanted to be a cowboy", Emmett commented. "Now, knowing that I'll spend my future in the past, even only temporarily, it sounds like a wonderful way to spend my retirement years. It just occurred to me - since I wind up 1885, perhaps I'm now in the history books. I wonder - could I go to the library and look myself up in the old newspaper archives?"
"I don't know, Doc", Marty commented. "You're the one who's always saying it's not too good to know too much about your own destiny."
"You're right, Marty", he replied grimly. "I know too much already as it is. Better that I not attempt to uncover the circumstances of my own future." Turning to the graveyard, he called, "Copernicus! Come on, boy!"
"I'll get him, Doc. Copernicus!" Nothing. "Copernicus, come on. Let's go home, boy."
The dog was standing by one of the graves, obviously distressed about something.
Marty walked over. "What's wrong? What's wrong, Copernicus? Come on." Kneeling, he picked up the dog. "Come on, let's go home. Come on."
He began to walk away when the name he glimpsed on the tombstone registered. Putting Copernicus, he moved back to it, the flashlight revealing the name-
"/DOC! JAMES! COME HERE, QUICK!/"
Swearing colorfully, James ran over to Marty, Emmett following.
"What's wrong, Marty?" the latter asked. "You look like you've seen a ghost."
"You're not far off, Doc", Marty replied, gesturing at the tombstone.
James moved so he was standing behind the teenager while Emmett edged around to get a better look at the grave.
Here Lies Emmett Brown; Died - September 7, 1885; Shot in the back by Buford Tannen over a matter of 80 dollars; Erected in eternal memory by his beloved Clara
"Great Scott!" Emmett gasped, staggering back.
"Check this out -/Died //September seventh, 1885/. That's one week after you wrote the letter!" Marty exclaimed. "/Erected in eternal memory by his beloved Clara/..." He stood. "Who the hell is Clara?"
"Marty, please, don't stand there!" Emmett yelped. Marty, remembering where he was, leapt away from the grave.
"Oh! Right. Sorry", he apologized, bringing out the camera again to take another picture. "I gotta get another picture."
"/Shot in the back by Buford Tannen over a matter of 80 dollars/?!" Emmett continued. "What kind of a future do you call /that/?!"
"Not a good one", James commented.
-----------------
It took them a bit of searching, but they finally found Buford Tannen in the newspaper archives. The name Tannen meant he was an ancestor of the Biff Tannen they'd came to retrieve the almanac from, and, from what James could tell by the photos, he seemed like your basic cliché Western villain. However, the photo of him standing over the bodies of some of his victims clearly proved he was a gunman to be taken seriously.
"Buford Tannen" he read, "was a notorious gunman whose short temper and a tendency to drool earned him the nickname of "Mad Dog". He was quick on the trigger and bragged that he'd killed twelve men, not including Indians or Chinamen."
"Does it mention me?" Emmett called. "Am I one of the twelve?"
"Just a minute. /However, this claim cannot be substantiated since precise records were not kept after Tannen shot a newspaper editor who printed an unfavorable story about him in 1884/. That's why we can't find anything."
"Look!" Emmett brought over a book of old photographs and pointed one out, that of a typical family portrait. "William McFly and family", he read. "Your relatives?"
"My great-grandfather's name was William. Yeah, that's him", he confirmed. "Good looking guy."
Now that James looked, the rather grim-looking man did bear a vague resemblance to Marty... He shut the book, titled A History of //Hill/ //Valley//; 1850 to 1930/.
"McFlys..." he commented, "but no Browns."
"Maybe it was a mistake, Doc" Marty interjected hopefully as Emmett sifted through other photos. "Maybe that grave wasn't yours. There could've been another Emmett Brown back in 1885."
"No", Emmett muttered.
"Did you have any relatives here back then?"
"The Browns didn't come to Hill Valley until 1908. Then they were the Von Brauns. Our father changed the name during the first World War."
Marty had picked up a stack of photos and was leafing through it. The first held no interest for James, but the second-
"Emmett", James interrupted, holding up the photo. "I think you should see this."
His brother looked at the photo in terror. "Great Scott", he whispered. "It's me!"
The photo was of Emmett's 1985 self standing in front of a clock, the caption reading /The New Clock - //September 5, 1885/.
/Must have been the same one that got struck by lightning.../James thought absentmindedly.
"Then it is true. All of it! It is me who goes back there... and gets shot."
Marty shook his head. "It's not gonna happen, Doc", he said, determined. "After you fix the time circuits and put new tires on the DeLorean, we're going back to 1885 and bringing you home."
To Be Continued...
"The only way to make a man trustworthy is to trust him." - Henry Stimson
-----------------
This is insane, he thinks as he glances around the corner of the saloon at the scene in the main street. Emmett and Marty have been caught by a mysterious gunman, and are now being held by his henchmen, who bear an eerie resemblance to the cop, Col. Mustard's former driver, and the fake Mr. Boddy.
"Listen up, Professor!" the gunman shouts, speaking with the English accented voice that has haunted his nightmares for a year now. "I fully intend to shoot someone today, and I would prefer it to be you. However ..." He chuckles darkly, pulling out the revolver James had been given. "If you're too much of a coward, I'm afraid it will just have to be your brother."
Emmett struggles against his captors. "Don't listen to him, James! Save yourself!"
James ducks back around the saloon. What can he do?
"Time's up", the gunman barks. To James' horror, he pulls back the hammer-
"Right here, Boddy!" he shouts, stepping out into the street.
Boddy laughs darkly. "I knew you would come."
"You murdered her. The singing telegram girl", James snarls. "Of course I came."
"She brought it on herself, Professor. After all, she did give me the information willingly."
"And then you disposed of her", James finishes. "Like you would have done to the rest of us, given the chance." He pulls his coat back, revealing his own gun. "Shall we finish this?"
"Yes", Mr. Boddy replies, sliding the revolver into his own holster. "Let's."
It should be so easy, James thinks as they back away into position. The man doesn't have a chance.
Casually, his gaze scans the growing crowd and spots among the unknown faces those of the other guests. //Col./ Mustard, dressed as one of the saloon's patrons. Mr. Green as a sheriff's deputy, perhaps a subconscious nod to the fact that he was an FBI plant the whole time./
Mrs. Peacock and Mrs. White, dressed as honest women did at the time. Yvette and Ms. Scarlet; both dressed as prostitutes.
Way to go, subconscious... he mentally sighs. He returns his attention to Mr. Boddy, who is now grinning, the same Joker grin he sported when Mr. Green revealed his identity as the true blackmailer.
It should be so easy, he thinks. After all he only has one bullet left...
"Ready?" Mr. Boddy asks.
...Or does he?
"Ready."
Everything goes silent.
"Draw!"
As they simultaneously draw their guns-
-----------------
"Hey kids! What time is it?"
James woke up with a start. It was morning now, and the storm had blown over. Briefly looking around, he was shocked for the second time when Emmett sat straight up. "Great Scott", he gasped, apparently not noticing his younger brother or Marty.
Standing, he first ran over to the four photographs on the mantle, then to the television, accidentally knocking the hoverboard out from under Marty's feet in the process. Kneeling by the television, he muttered "Howdy-Doody time?" to no one in particular before switching it off.
He was clearly a man on a mission, because the next thing he ran over to was a tape recorder. Pressing the record button, he quickly began speaking into it.
"Date: Sunday, November thirteenth, 1955, 7:01 A.M..."
As Emmett described what happened last night from his point of view to the machine, James stood, calmly watching. Marty, meanwhile, was just waking up, and stretched briefly before he stood. Walking over, he checked the letters, which were somewhat drier then they had been, and carefully removed them from the rope in front of the fireplace.
"...In fact, I don't even remember how I got home..."
As the scientist theorized how he could have possibly forgotten his return home, Marty slowly strode over to Emmett, James ready to back up his arguments if need be.
"Indeed I now recall the moments after the time vehicle disappeared into the future..." He gasped. "I saw a vision of Marty saying he had come back from the future." He snorted.
"Hey, Doc?" Marty said, trying to get his attention.
"Undoubtedly this was some sort of residual image-" he continued, turning around to face Marty.
Once again, Emmett /screamed/, stepping backward in an attempt to get away from what he thought was a ghost. Unfortunately, he accidentally stepped on the hoverboard, causing him to fall backwards onto the organ behind him. As his elbows hit the keys, sinister-sounding notes emanated from its pipes.
Tossing aside the hoverboard, Marty moved over to Emmett in an attempt to calm him down. "Doc, calm down, okay? Just calm down! It's me! It's Marty!"
"No, it can't be you!" Emmett yelped, edging along the organ in an attempt to flee. "I sent you back to the future!"
"That's right, Doc, that's right. But I came back again. I came back from the future. Don't you remember last night? You fainted, I brought you home-"
"This can't be happening!" Emmett shouted, cutting Marty off as he ran towards the bathroom. "You can't be here! It doesn't make sense for you to be here! I refuse to even believe you are here!" Without another word, he slammed the door in Marty's face.
Marty turned to James, who shrugged.
"Doc, I am here and it does make sense!" Marty argued, turning back to the door. "Look, I came back to 155 again with /you/, the you from 1985, 'cause we had to get a book from Biff! So, once I got the book back, you - that is, the you from 1985 - were in the DeLorean and it got struck by lightning, and you got sent back to 1885!" Sighing, he turned away from the door. "He doesn't believe me..."
"Clearly, he's skeptical", James commented, slightly amused.
"/1885?!/" Emmett suddenly called from the bathroom. The door flew open again, and he leaned out to face Marty.
"That's a very interesting story, future boy", he hissed, "but there's just one little thing that doesn't make sense. If the me of the future is now in the past, /how could you possibly know about it/?"
In an instant, James was next to Marty, and he grabbed the letters out of the teenager's hands. "Because you sent us a letter", he finished, holding the letter up for him.
Momentarily curious, he stared at them before turning back to him. "...James?"
He nodded.
"What? But how-?"
"We'll talk about that later. Are the guest bathrooms still upstairs?"
"Yes", Emmett replied, slightly stunned at the interruption.
"Right." He moved towards the nearest flight of stairs. "I'm getting a shower before anything else happens. After the running around I did yesterday, it will be very welcome. I've already looked at the letter on the way over here, so you can go ahead and read it for yourself if you want."
Without another word, he continued up the stairs.
-----------------
/One shower later.../
James strode into the garage/lab, whistling cheerfully. The shower had definitely done a world of good, and he was at least feeling less scruffy-looking than he had in the past.
"You're in a good mood", Marty commented, glancing up from where he was examining some odd helmet-device.
"Why not? I seriously needed that shower."
"Well, after a year on the run..." Marty quipped, grinning.
"Listen, did you talk about..."
"Yeah, and he seems to be taking it well - I think."
"That will have to do for now." James continued, turning to his brother, who was skimming through the letter; "I think it's time we proceeded with the plan to rescue your future self?"
"Right." Clearing his throat, Emmett began reading:
"To Marty and James:
"If my calculations are correct, you will receive this letter immediately after you saw the DeLorean struck by lightning. First, let me assure you that I am alive and well. I've been living happily these past eight months in the year 1885. The lightning bolt that hit the DeLorean caused a gigawatt overload which scrambled the time circuits, activated the flux capacitor, and sent me back to 1885. The overload shorted out the time circuits and destroyed the flying circuits. Unfortunately, the car will never fly again."
Emmett glanced up at him. "It actually flew?"
"Oh, it flew all right..." James shuddered as he recalled having to climb down the flag pennant.
"Yeah, you had a hover conversion done in the early 21st century", Marty added.
"Amazing!" Emmett exclaimed. "I set myself up as a blacksmith as a front while I attempted to repair the damage to the time circuits. Unfortunately, this proved impossible because suitable replacement parts will not be invented until 1947. However, I've gotten quite adept at shoeing horses and fixing wagons! 1885! Amazing. I actually end up as a blacksmith in the old West."
"I have buried the DeLorean in the Del Gato mine adjacent to the old //Boot/ //Hill// /Cemetery/ as shown on the enclosed map. Hopefully it will remain undisturbed and preserved until you uncover it in 1955. Inside, you will find repair instructions. My 1955 counterpart/ - that's me - /should have no problem repairing it so you can drive it back to come and get me. I have set things up so I am leaving on //Monday, September 7th, 1885//, so as to avoid causing suspicion for my disappearance. Once we have returned to 1985, we can begin plans to save James' past self without causing further damage to the time stream via another paradox. Your friend in time, "Doc" Emmett L. Brown, //September 1st, 1885/."
"This..." he said after he set it down, "is really amazing."
Marty groaned. "I'm sorry, Doc, it's all my fault you're stuck back there. I never should have let Biff get to me."
"Oh, there are plenty worse places than the Old West", Emmett reassured him. "I could've ended up in the Dark Ages. They probably would've burned me at the stake as a heretic or something. Let's look at the map."
Included with the letter was a map of the mine, including details ranging from the irrelevant to the overly informative. Emmett looked it over briefly before coming to a decision.
"It says here that the time vehicle is buried in a side tunnel. We may have to blast."
-----------------
/KA-BOOM!/
Debris went flying out of the mine shaft as the dynamite went off.
"Hope no one was around to hear that", James muttered. "That blast was loud enough to wake the dead."
"Marty, take the camera. I want to document everything!"
------------
"This reminds me of the time I attempted to reach the center of the Earth", Emmett reminisced as they moved further into the tunnel. "I'd been reading my favorite author, Jules Verne. I spent weeks preparing that expedition, but I didn't get this far."
"Well, you were twelve at the time", James commented.
"True, true. In his writings, Jules Verne had a profound effect on my life. It was when I was 11 that I first read /Twenty-Thousand Leagues Under the Sea/. It was then that I realized that I must devote my life to science."
"Hey, look at this!" Marty called, gesturing to a strange alcove that was blocked off by rocks and planks, one bearing the initials E.L.B.
"E.L.B..." James breathed. "Emmett Lathrop Brown."
"My initials!" Emmett crowed. "Just like in /Journey to the Center of the Earth/! That means the time machine must be right through this wall!"
After Marty snapped a photo of the wall, they began the relatively easy process of breaking through it. There was the DeLorean, covered in a tarp to protect it from the elements.
"It's been buried there for seventy years, two months and thirteen days. Astounding!"
------------
"As you can see, the lightning bolt shorted out the time circuit control microchip", Marty read as Emmett examined the part in question. "The attached sch-schem-"
"Schematic", Emmett and James simultaneously corrected.
"-schematic diagram will allow you to build a replacement unit with 1955 components, thus restoring the time machine to perfect working order."
"Unbelievable that this little piece of junk could be such a big problem", Emmett sighed. Turning the chip over, he took a closer look before holding it up for Marty and James' inspection. "No wonder this circuit failed", he added. "It says, "Made in Japan"."
Marty glanced up at him. "What do you mean, Doc? All the best stuff is made in Japan."
James shrugged. "Future things."
"Unbelievable!"
------------
By that night, they'd rented a tow truck and were now winching the DeLorean onto it.
"You know, when I was a kid, I always wanted to be a cowboy", Emmett commented. "Now, knowing that I'll spend my future in the past, even only temporarily, it sounds like a wonderful way to spend my retirement years. It just occurred to me - since I wind up 1885, perhaps I'm now in the history books. I wonder - could I go to the library and look myself up in the old newspaper archives?"
"I don't know, Doc", Marty commented. "You're the one who's always saying it's not too good to know too much about your own destiny."
"You're right, Marty", he replied grimly. "I know too much already as it is. Better that I not attempt to uncover the circumstances of my own future." Turning to the graveyard, he called, "Copernicus! Come on, boy!"
"I'll get him, Doc. Copernicus!" Nothing. "Copernicus, come on. Let's go home, boy."
The dog was standing by one of the graves, obviously distressed about something.
Marty walked over. "What's wrong? What's wrong, Copernicus? Come on." Kneeling, he picked up the dog. "Come on, let's go home. Come on."
He began to walk away when the name he glimpsed on the tombstone registered. Putting Copernicus, he moved back to it, the flashlight revealing the name-
"/DOC! JAMES! COME HERE, QUICK!/"
Swearing colorfully, James ran over to Marty, Emmett following.
"What's wrong, Marty?" the latter asked. "You look like you've seen a ghost."
"You're not far off, Doc", Marty replied, gesturing at the tombstone.
James moved so he was standing behind the teenager while Emmett edged around to get a better look at the grave.
Here Lies Emmett Brown; Died - September 7, 1885; Shot in the back by Buford Tannen over a matter of 80 dollars; Erected in eternal memory by his beloved Clara
"Great Scott!" Emmett gasped, staggering back.
"Check this out -/Died //September seventh, 1885/. That's one week after you wrote the letter!" Marty exclaimed. "/Erected in eternal memory by his beloved Clara/..." He stood. "Who the hell is Clara?"
"Marty, please, don't stand there!" Emmett yelped. Marty, remembering where he was, leapt away from the grave.
"Oh! Right. Sorry", he apologized, bringing out the camera again to take another picture. "I gotta get another picture."
"/Shot in the back by Buford Tannen over a matter of 80 dollars/?!" Emmett continued. "What kind of a future do you call /that/?!"
"Not a good one", James commented.
-----------------
It took them a bit of searching, but they finally found Buford Tannen in the newspaper archives. The name Tannen meant he was an ancestor of the Biff Tannen they'd came to retrieve the almanac from, and, from what James could tell by the photos, he seemed like your basic cliché Western villain. However, the photo of him standing over the bodies of some of his victims clearly proved he was a gunman to be taken seriously.
"Buford Tannen" he read, "was a notorious gunman whose short temper and a tendency to drool earned him the nickname of "Mad Dog". He was quick on the trigger and bragged that he'd killed twelve men, not including Indians or Chinamen."
"Does it mention me?" Emmett called. "Am I one of the twelve?"
"Just a minute. /However, this claim cannot be substantiated since precise records were not kept after Tannen shot a newspaper editor who printed an unfavorable story about him in 1884/. That's why we can't find anything."
"Look!" Emmett brought over a book of old photographs and pointed one out, that of a typical family portrait. "William McFly and family", he read. "Your relatives?"
"My great-grandfather's name was William. Yeah, that's him", he confirmed. "Good looking guy."
Now that James looked, the rather grim-looking man did bear a vague resemblance to Marty... He shut the book, titled A History of //Hill/ //Valley//; 1850 to 1930/.
"McFlys..." he commented, "but no Browns."
"Maybe it was a mistake, Doc" Marty interjected hopefully as Emmett sifted through other photos. "Maybe that grave wasn't yours. There could've been another Emmett Brown back in 1885."
"No", Emmett muttered.
"Did you have any relatives here back then?"
"The Browns didn't come to Hill Valley until 1908. Then they were the Von Brauns. Our father changed the name during the first World War."
Marty had picked up a stack of photos and was leafing through it. The first held no interest for James, but the second-
"Emmett", James interrupted, holding up the photo. "I think you should see this."
His brother looked at the photo in terror. "Great Scott", he whispered. "It's me!"
The photo was of Emmett's 1985 self standing in front of a clock, the caption reading /The New Clock - //September 5, 1885/.
/Must have been the same one that got struck by lightning.../James thought absentmindedly.
"Then it is true. All of it! It is me who goes back there... and gets shot."
Marty shook his head. "It's not gonna happen, Doc", he said, determined. "After you fix the time circuits and put new tires on the DeLorean, we're going back to 1885 and bringing you home."
To Be Continued...
Sign up to rate and review this story