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Hill Valley of November 1986 meets me with a pouring rain and a squally wind. After a sunny August left behind, this change is rather dramatic, but giving it a thought, I conclude that such weather works for me. The less people see the Delorean appearing out of nowhere – the better. The car takes once usual place in the garage. At some point I am overwhelmed with emotions – it’s been ten years since I was here. Ten long unbelievable years. Though for this place it took only twelve months and fourteen days... Strangely, the things here are kept in a perfect order. All my blueprints are stacked in neat piles, all clocks are wound up and still synchronized. I take a look at the small cot in the corner where the books are piled up mixed with chocolate wraps – and something warm blossoms in my heart. Marty was here…
The clocks suddenly strike reminding me about the reason of my being here – and about the fact that I need to hurry. I’ll come back here later today. And now the Enchantment Under The Sea is waiting!
The school makes me think of a disturbed anthill – though in my opinion it has an excess of noise. Everyone is in a rush, talking on the move, then slowing down for a moment and running again – but this time in different direction. Strickland thoughtfully watches the bedlam standing at the stairs. Well, this guy never changes – neither in hairstyle, nor in attitude. Speaking about the hairstyle – keeping in mind Verne's instructions, I take out a black silk bandana embroidered with skulls and tie it on my head. This is an addition to the black shirt combined with leather vest and trousers – also black, of course. My family has equipped me well, it's amazing that no one has yet shied away in fright…
Moving towards the hall with everyone else, I suddenly catch sight of a poster on the wall – "The Pinheads" keep on rocking!". Well, it seems that in this improved reality the things are going well for the guys.
A real traffic jam is formed near the assembly hall – either a hem of the dress has been stepped on or a heel has been broken. Meanwhile a guitar is already heard from the stage and my heart immediately skips a couple of beats. I’d recognize Marty's playing everywhere…
Finally, we are carried inside. I settle down at the nearest column, clinging to it just in case, so as not to be swept away by a wave of high school students. Or by a wave of music – judging by the volume, this option is also possible. One song replaces another, the audience does not skimp on applause. I must admit, over the past time Marty's band has become very adept at performing the rock hits which turn out powerful and sincere. The audience definitely likes it, and even Strickland stomps to the beat. Visibility in the dim hall leaves much to be desired, but I still keep my eyes on Marty. I catch every movement, every painfully familiar gesture – and feel like some missing piece of the puzzle is falling into its place...
Meantime my friend shakes his hair, gives out an absolutely incredible guitar passage and then smiles widely.
“Well, are you guys ready for a new hit?”
The audience roars approvingly. Marty tweaks the pegs, then rubs the back of his head a bit sheepishly.
“All right. This is out new song and you probably haven’t heard it yet...” He pauses biting his lips. “Actually this is for my friend. He’s not here right now… but I think he’d love it. It is called Back in time…”
That’s a twist! I suddenly feel something like a hard potato in my throat, and my vision is all blurry for a moment. It seems that Marty also needs some time to deal with his emotions. Finally, he hits the strings.
"Tell me, doctor, where are we going this time?
Is this the 50s, or 1999?.." *
The audience accepts the novelty with a bang, but looking at them, I can't help thinking that only the two of us here know about the true meaning of the song... And then our eyes suddenly meet. Marty loses his rhythm for a second, shakes his head as if not believing his eyes… and then turns away, moving to the opposite side of the stage. Even from my place I see his hands shaking and it takes all his efforts to continue playing like nothing has happened. My hands though are shaking no less...
The song ends followed by a thunderous applause. The guys are getting ready to leave. Marty, still avoiding looking in my direction, collects the equipment, waving off the questions of his friends. The thoughts in my head run like a herd of horses, and I go out into the lobby to catch a breath. There's not a soul here right now... Except for someone whose cautious footsteps I hear behind. And when a hoarse boyish voice mumbles incredulously: "Great Scott!", I can only grin in response: "This is heavy, huh?" Marty squints so familiarly, diligently raising his chin, but his imperturbable façade is bursting at all seams. I just look at him for a while, shaking my head, and then scoop him up in my arms, pressing my lips to the tousled top of his head for a moment. Marty's hug is just as strong, and my throat is suddenly tight again.
"Doc, you'll choke me," Marty laughs, but the laughter suddenly abrupts. A moment later Marty McFly, a rising rock star, is sobbing desperately in my arms. I cradle him, stroke his hair, mumble soft nonsense – all this usually works well with Jules and Verne. A thought flashes through my head that having two children makes it much easier to cope with others' emotions. And then I suddenly realize that it would not hurt to cope with my own – the walls and the ceiling are again suspiciously blurred. I blink furiously, removing the excess moisture from my eyes. Marty sniffles, gives a watery smile, then looks at me thoughtfully.
“Hey, Doc, who was picking up the clothes?”
"Clara and Verne," I admit, and my friend's eyes light up with a familiar glee.
"It turned out quite bodacious," he drawls, and I frown in puzzlement for a second. Bodacious?.. Oh, yes, the 80's slang. I've been missing it...
The lobby is slowly filled up with students, and Marty’s eyes suddenly become sad.
“Thanks for coming, Doc,” he mumbles quietly, fiddling with the guitar strap and stubbornly looking away. “Give my best to Clara and the boys… and to Einie…”
I touch his shoulder, pull him closer again.
“Hey, I’m not going anywhere, at least for the next couple of days. You’re not the only one here who’s been missing a friend…”
Marty is still for a moment, and then such a happy smile spreads over his face, that I feel a slight pang of guilt.
“Really?” he asks in a small voice, and after my nod hugs me tightly again, and then handles me the guitar.
“Can you hold it? I’ll be in a minute, just need to take all the rest…"
He takes off. I follow him with my eyes for some time and suddenly I’m acutely aware of the thing I’ll have to discuss with Clara. My newest and the most important project for now, called Back in time. It’s time to come home.
*"Back in Time" by Huey Lewis and the News