Chapter 10

Saturday, November 12th

9:37 P.M.

The tentacles helped Marty back into the car as they flew back to Lyon Estates. "Are you all right?" Jennifer asked, checking him over as he settled onto her lap.

"Exhausted and sore," Marty admitted. Then he smiled and pulled the Almanac out of his jacket. "But, frankly, I've never been better."

"Yes! Mission accomplished!" Doc said happily as Jennifer and the tentacles hugged Marty. "We'll burn it once we've returned to Lyon Estates – we can use my trash bucket as a safe container for the flames."

"Burn it?" Jennifer said, surprised. "I thought we could just rip it up or something."

"Best to destroy it completely, I say," Doc replied. "I don't want to chance anyone getting their hands on any little bit." Jennifer nodded, understanding. "Then you two can rest and get some food into your systems while the tentacles and I complete the repairs on the DeLorean."

Marty blinked. "You mean you haven't found that short yet? What have you been doing all this time?"

"We tried, Marty – it's a tricky little gremlin. Not to mention we had to take some considerable time off to fail to rescue you."

Marty smirked. "Yeah, what happened there?"

"We kept getting lost," Jennifer admitted. "Farmer Peabody chased us in the wrong direction, then we kept trying to get on streets that haven't been built yet."

"Jesus! Peabody didn't hurt you guys, did he?"

"Nope – we managed to send him on a wild goose chase," Doc reassured the teen. "The short of it is, we haven't really had the time to track down what's wrong with the display."

Marty looked at it. "Seems to be working okay now."

"Yes, but I want to make sure it stays that way."

"Oh, hell yeah."

The wind began to pick up as they got closer to Lyon Estates. The DeLorean started to rock a little. "Can we land? I'm feeling a bit queasy here," Jennifer said, turning pale.

"I'm trying," Doc said, scowling at the steering wheel. "It really is miserable flying weather. I think I'm going to have to circle around and make a long approach from the south." He began turning the car around.

"This really was a bad storm," Marty noted. "I was starting to think it was all hype. I mean, the lightning was spectacular, don't get me wrong, but it wasn't even raining when I left before."

"The rain came later – and trust me, it was heavy. I barely outran it back to my house." Doc was forced to turn back the other way as a strong gust hit the car. "Damn it! What else is going to go wrong?!"

NO! Father, don't say that! Albert cried.

But the damage had been done. Right on cue, the time circuits began flickering back to January 1st, 1885. Jules began smacking them with his claw. Oh, no you don't! Change! Change!

They did change – to July 4th, 1776. I think you'll have to be more specific with your directive, Jules, Verne said.

"Hit it harder," Marty suggested, looking just as frustrated as Doc and the tentacles felt.

Jules tried. For one brief moment, the correct date appeared. Then it changed back to 1885, then to 1776. Another hit scrambled the dates together, making it July 4th, 1885. The tentacle hissed. Where the hell is that short? Once we land, Father, we're probably going to have to take–

A lightning bolt suddenly streaked out of the sky, searing the branch off of a nearby tree. "Holy SHIT!" Marty yelled.

"Aaacck!" Jennifer yelped, grabbing Marty's arm. "Doc, you'd better get us on the ground right away!"

"I'm doing my best!" Doc said, battling the wind for control. "That was too close for comfort!"

"Yeah, the last thing we want is to be struck by--"

KAPOW!

The world outside suddenly went brilliant white. The passengers screamed as the DeLorean began to spin. There was a flash of yellow light from the back, a sonic boom –

And, just like that, it was all over. The human passengers caught their breaths while the tentacles glanced around, making sure no one was hurt. "Lightning," Marty finished. "Oh, this is heavy. . . ."

"You had to say it," Jennifer said, looking out into the now-clear night sky. "Where – or when – are we?"

Before anyone could answer, though, a loud alarm sounded. "Your hover conversion system has been rendered inoperable," a robotic voice informed them. "Emergency landing procedures will be initiated immediately. Please do not attempt to fly the car after you have landed. Have a nice day."

"Have a nice – are you for real?!" Marty yelled at the DeLorean as it began to slowly lower to the ground.

"Not really, it's a computer," Jennifer pointed out.

The DeLorean can talk! You can't kill it now! Tommy told Doc, screeching in triumph.

"That's not the DeLorean, that's just--"

With no warning, the car went into freefall. Jennifer screamed again. "What the hell?!"

"Damn! The backup circuits must have failed!" Doc yelled.

"But they were working fine just five seconds ago!"

"I don't pretend to understand it myself! Jules, see if you can do anything to force the circuits to work! The rest of you, seatbelt duty!"

Got it! Jules plugged into the DeLorean's systems and started work while the others wrapped themselves tightly around Doc, Marty, and Jennifer. "Hang on, everyone," Doc whispered.

Just scant feet from the ground, Jules managed to reroute some of the power supply long enough for the backup circuits to reactivate. The DeLorean shuddered in midair for a moment, then landed gently on the ground. Marty let out the breath he'd been holding. "Whew. Thanks, Jules."

Jules nodded and chittered as his brothers untangled themselves. You were right, Father. Much of the hover conversion wiring was fried by the lightning, and what was remaining couldn't adequately handle the load. We'll have to have a new system installed later.

"I'm more worried about the rest of the car," Doc said, opening his door. "If the wrong thing got damaged. . . ."

"Oh, Jesus, Doc, don't go there," Marty said, going white.

"Wait a minute, wait a minute, the DeLorean's been struck by lightning before," Jennifer began, obviously not wanting to believe anything was really wrong.

"That was lightning channeled along a specific path directly into the flux capacitor," Doc said, cutting her off before she could get too far with her theory. "What we just experienced was an untamed release of energy throughout the whole frame of the car. As you just saw, it already damaged the hover conversion beyond repair – which, unfortunately for us, means other parts may be damaged as well." He got out of the car. "I'll do a visual inspection. Jules, you tap back into the circuitry and see what you can find."

I'm on it. Jules plugged in again while Doc and the other three tentacles circled the car, examining every part.

The teens also got out, not wanting to stay stuffed in the DeLorean for too long. Desert stretched out around them, with patches of grass here and there to break up the monotony of the sand. More stars then any of them had ever seen filled the sky. "Well, at least it's a pretty when," Jennifer said, admiring the view.

A burst of colored light appeared, starting the teens. "What the – fireworks? Who's shooting up fireworks?"

Marty checked the time circuit display again. "Guess someone's celebrating the date early," he said. "The time circuits read July 4th, 1885, mid – um, Doc?"

"What?" Doc asked, not liking the teen's tone.

"The display just flashed all zeros, then went dark. That's not good, is it?"

Doc winced. "No. Hopefully it's just some lights shorting out." He finished his inspection. "Well, the car looks fine from the outside. Jules, what's the internal report?"

Everything appears to be operational in one form or another – except for one thing. There was a lengthy pause. Then Jules drooped. I can't access the time circuit control microchip.

The bottom dropped out of Doc's stomach. "Oh no. . . ."

"What?" Marty demanded, yanking his head out of the car so fast he accidentally hit it on the frame. "Ouch! Goddamnit. . . ."

"The time circuit control chip was our other casualty of the lightning strike," Doc admitted, voice low. "Without that, the DeLorean can't open the necessary wormhole to travel through time. That's why the time circuit display went dark – it stopped receiving input." Doc waved his hands. "Simply put, we're stuck."

"Stuck?!"

"No! No, we can't be stuck," Jennifer said, shaking her head. "Test it. Get the DeLorean up to 88 miles per hour. Even if the stupid display doesn't work, that should!"

"Jennifer, Jules's readings--"

"Please," she begged, hands clasped in front of her.

Doc sighed deeply. "All right, if that's what it takes to convince you. Get in."

The group piled back into the car. Doc turned on the ignition and hit the gas. The car moved forward a few feet – then stopped, the engine growling ineffectually. "Now what?" Doc demanded, scowling.

"Sounds like its on empty, Doc," Marty said.

We agree, Jules nodded. When did you last fill the gas tank?

"May 7th, 1986," Doc said. "It was half-full when we left."

Yes, but we've been doing a lot of driving since then – changing time periods, getting Marty, chasing Biff. . . . And I don't think having to fight the wind in 1955 helped either, Verne pointed out.

"Great Scott, you're right. That would use up more gas. And if we were low to begin with. . . ."

Jennifer looked like she wanted to either cry or strangle something. "So the time circuits don't work and we're out of gas?! How can three people – and four tentacles – be so unlucky?!"

"I don't know," Doc said, leaning on the steering wheel. "But the fact remains that we are. And now, it appears we may be stuck in 1885 permanently."

"Perman – oh, hell no," Marty said, running a hand through his hair. "Our lives are back in 1986! We can't be stuck here! There's gotta be something you can do!"

"I wish there was," Doc sighed. "I could conquer the problem of getting the car up to 88 miles per hour with a little time. But suitable replacement parts for the microchip won't be invented until 1947. I'd have to start completely from scratch on a new time travel design that would work on current technology. And doing that, even if I used the DeLorean as a base, would take years."

"Like 30?" Jennifer squeaked.

"Possibly."

There was a long moment of silence. Then Tommy curled around to face Doc, chittering softly. You – you could always disassemble us and try–

"NO!" Doc gasped, startling Marty and Jennifer. "You're my children! I love you!"

But we have future technology! We could get you, Marty, and Jennifer back home! Jules protested.

"Absolutely not," Doc said. "I'd – I'd go crazy if I couldn't hear your voices anymore. . . ."

"Are they telling you to dissect them?" Jennifer asked, eyes widening.

"They are. They think I should use the future technology in them to repair the car." Doc shook his head. "Killing them is not an option I can consider, though."

Marty suddenly snapped his fingers and grabbed something off the floor. "Doc, what about this?" he asked, holding out his hoverboard. "I certainly can't use it back here."

Doc looked at it. Slowly, some of the spark came back into his eyes. "Yes – yes, this could work!" he cried, grabbing the toy. "I could try and repurpose this! Probably only be good for one trip, but that's all we'd need! Kids, you could help me with this, correct?"

Of course! We will do everything in our power to assist you, the tentacles chorused.

We want to get home too, Albert added. 1885 is no place for anything like us to live!

"I know." Doc looked around, frowning. "I'll need tools, though. I have a few in the back for emergencies, of course, but what I really need is a workshop."

"Maybe somebody around here will lend us their barn or something," Jennifer said.

"Hmmm. I'd prefer to avoid human contact, but I don't think we have a choice. We can spend the night here with the DeLorean, then tomorrow we'll head into town and see." Doc reopened the doors. "Jennifer, you get the snacks we picked up – the kids and I will try to find some items for a fire."

"No need, Doc," Marty said, holding up both the Almanac and the Pleasure Paradise matchbook he had taken. "I say we celebrate the Fourth of July early too."

A few minutes later, everyone was gathered around the fire pit Doc and the tentacles had dug. Marty dropped the Almanac inside, then lit a match and dropped that in too. The Almanac caught the flame quickly, and was soon ablaze. Marty let out a loud sigh. "Well, at least that part's over," he said, looking absently at the matchbook. "Heh, setting it on fire with this probably rates at least an eight on the irony scale. . . ."

His eyes suddenly went wide. "Holy shit!"

"Marty?" Doc asked, concerned. "Did something happen?"

Marty looked up, now smiling. "Yup," he said, showing them the matchbook. The front still had the Biff's logo – but the back now read "Auto Detailing."

There was a moment of silence as everyone processed that. Then there was a scramble for the DeLorean to retrieve their "borrowed" newspapers. Marty yanked his out and looked at it eagerly. Sure enough, the headline had now changed from "GEORGE MCFLY MURDERED" to "GEORGE MCFLY HONORED." "Yes! YES! Doc, my father's alive!"

"We know, Marty!" Doc said, staring at his own paper with glee. His headline now properly read "EMMETT BROWN COMMENDED," not "COMMITTED." "Oh, it's good to see myself not in a straitjacket. . . ."

So Einstein's okay again? Everything's back to normal? Tommy asked, bouncing up and down with excitement.

"That's right!" Doc said, pulling the tentacles and teenagers into a hug. "It's the ripple effect! Our future is back to the way it should be!"

"Now we just have to get there," Jennifer pointed out.

Doc smiled at her and squeezed. "Don't worry. We'll get back to the future. I promise."

The End