Back to the Future Part II (12 page)

He walked toward the hotel.

Just before the hotel entrance was the door to another building, the BIFF TANNEN MUSEUM according to the neon sign out front. Marty stopped for a second to stare at the display area in front of the ticket window.

There, in the middle of the display, was the black roadster Biff had driven back in 1955 - the same one that had gotten bashed in in that collision with a manure truck. Except now the car had been totally restored; it was so sleek and brightly polished that it almost looked brand new. And next to that was a lifelike wax figure of Biff! It was a pretty good likeness, too - the same burly body and sloping forehead. They had even gotten the smirk right.

A deep voice was speaking over a loudspeaker somewhere nearby:

‘Of course, we've all heard the legend. But who is the man? Inside, you will learn how Biff Tannen became one of the richest and most powerful men in America!’

Biff Tannen was one of me richest and most powerful men in America? That would explain a lot. There was a video monitor over at the other end of the display. Marty walked over to get a closer look. The monitor was showing a photo montage - in colour and black and white - pictures from Biff's childhood, his high school sports' triumphs, shots of the exhibits inside. The same, deep announcer’s voice spoke in the background:

‘Learn the amazing history of the Tannen family, starting with the grandfather, Buford “Mad Dog” Tannen, fastest gun in the west.’

An old, brown tintype appeared on the screen, showing a western gunfighter who looked just like Biff!

‘See Biff humble beginnings-' the announcer continued proudly. There were more childhood photos. ‘- and how a trip to the racetrack on his twenty-first birthday made him a millionaire overnight.’

A photo flashed on the screen of Biff jumping in the air, wads of money clutched in both fists. The announcer went on:

‘Share the excitement of a fabulous winning streak that earned him the nickname, “The Luckiest Man on Earth!"’

Marty glanced over at the woman in the ticket booth. She was staring at him. Did he know her from somewhere? She picked up the phone and started talking into it.

Marty turned back to the video monitor.

‘Learn how Biff parlayed that lucky winning streak into the vast empire called “BiffCo"!’

There was a photo of BiffCo Corporate Headquarters, followed by a shot of row after row of smokestacks - those same smokestacks Marty saw all over town!

‘Witness how Biff changed the face of Hill Valley, making it a centre of industrial growth. Discover how in 1969 Biff successfully lobbied to legalise gambling throughout the land -

There were shots of spinning roulette wheels, cards being dealt, and happy, smiling faces.

‘- to put the dream he had realised into the reach of all Americans. Marvel at Biff’s ongoing relationships with the rich and famous.’

There were a bunch of shots of Biff with celebrities, prominent politicians, and talk show hosts.

‘Meet the women who shared in his passion as he searched for true love.’

More photos followed - top models, starlets, women in swimsuits on magazine covers.

‘And relive Biff’s happiest moment as - in 1973 - he realised his lifelong dream by marrying his high school sweetheart, Lorraine Baines McFly.’

Lorraine Baines McFly? The monitor showed a home movie of Biff coming out of a church with Marty’s mother!

Biff grinned into the camera. ‘Third time's the charm.’ He turned, and kissed Marty’s mother full on the mouth.

‘No!’ Marty screamed. He must be dreaming! Anything but this! ‘NO!’

There was a hand on his shoulder.

Marty turned. There were three guys standing behind him - three guys he knew.

It was Match, 3-D, and Skinhead.

‘Hold on there, squirt,’ Skinhead said with a sneer. ‘You’re comin’ with us. Upstairs.’

Marty tried to pull away.

‘Let me go, dammit!’ he yelled.

Match stuck his index finger in Marty’s face. ‘Look, we can do this the easy way - or the hard way.’ 

Marty wasn’t going anywhere with these thugs. 3-D pulled a blackjack out of his pocket. Marty pulled back from Skinhead’s grip. He had to get out of here!

3-D chuckled as he swung the blackjack down in an arc towards Marty’s skull.

‘The easy way,’ 3-D said.

Those were the last words Marty heard.

Marty felt something cold pressed to his forehead. He groaned and opened his eyes. It was dark in here, the only light coming from a picture window that looked out on a dull grey sky.

He was lying on a bed, and he could see the outline of a woman standing next to him. Even in the dim light, he thought he recognised her.

‘Mom?’ he called softly. ‘Is that you?’

Cool fingers patted the back of his palm.

‘Ssshh,’ his mother replied. ‘Just relax, Marty. You’ve been asleep for almost two hours.’

Asleep? He had been asleep?

‘Ohh,’ he moaned, ‘what a horrible nightmare - it was terrible.’

‘Well,’ his mother replied gently, ‘you’re safe and sound now.’

She was right, too. Marty felt really relaxed for the first time since - well, since before he’d ever seen Doc Brown’s time machine. He could feel his eyes sliding closed.

‘Back home,’ his mother continued cheerily, ‘on the good old twenty-seventh floor.’

Marty’s eyes snapped opened.

Twenty-seventh floor?

Marty sat up. This wasn’t home. Even in the semi-darkness, he could see he was in a big room cluttered with stuff - a room he’d never seen before. And the bed was round. Everything had changed.

The nightmare wasn’t over.

It got worse when his mother sat down next to the bed and turned on the light.

His mother had changed, too.

Marty didn’t know what was more shocking - the curly wig; the heavy makeup and false eyelashes; the enormous earrings, necklace, bracelets and rings, all glittering with diamonds; or the spangled, low-cut evening gown. Boy, his mother had changed! The way she was done up now, she looked like some barmaid, or the wife of some evangelist he’d seen on TV.

Actually, he could see what change was most dramatic. It made him embarrassed to even notice it - his own mother! She seemed to have had some surgery done to the upper area of - especially in that tight dress, her torso was - well, there was no other way to put it - her cleavage was certainly - ample.

She was staring at him as if she expected him to say something.

‘Mom!’ he managed at last. ‘You’re so - so - uh -big!’

Marty frowned. That wasn’t what he wanted to say. But what 
could
 he say?

His mother smiled at him reassuringly, as if her son could never say anything wrong. She opened a cigarette case encrusted with diamonds, then picked up a cigarette between two deep red, sculpted nails, and fitted it into a diamond-inlaid cigarette holder. Pla
^c
^ the mouthpiece of the holder between her deep red lips, she lit the cigarette with a solid gold lighter, an inhaled as if the smoke was the breath of life.

She looked over at her son again.

‘Everything’s going to be fine, Marty.’She raised one overplucked eyebrow. ‘Are you hungry? We can call room service -’

Marty swung his legs off the bed. This whole room was as overdecorated as his mother. The wallpaper was inlaid with golden thread. The paintings were set in heavy wooden frames painted in gold leaf. Golden tinted chandeliers hung from the ceiling.

He looked out the window, past the gold-braided drapes. There, twenty-seven floors below, he could see the twinkling lights of Hill Valley and, beyond that, the ring of factories, with a hundred smokestacks belching forth thick, black smoke that blotted out the stars. He must be on the very top floor of Biff Tannen's Pleasure Paradise.

But why was the Paradise here? How did a place like this end up in Hill Valley, run by Biff Tannen, of all people? A nice place like Hill Valley, ending up like this - Marty felt a coldness deep inside, like an ice cube in the pit of his stomach. He couldn’t think of anything to say.

‘I forgot,’ his mother jumped in, filling the void left by his silence. She waved happily at their surroundings with her manicured nails. 'You haven't seen the penthouse since we redecorated!’

We? Marty thought. Did that mean his whole family lived here? But what was his family doing, living in the penthouse of the Paradise?

‘Lorraine?’ a gruff voice called from the other side of the closed bedroom door. 'Where are you?'

Marty's mother frowned.

‘It’s your father.’

She took another quick drag on her cigarette.

‘My father?’ Marty asked. That gruff voice didn’t sound anything like George McFly.

Somebody kicked open the bedroom door.

Biff Tannen walked in. He had changed, too. He was in better shape than the last time Marty had seen him-in 1985, that is. His clothes were fancier, too - a silk suit of pastel green, and a shirt open half way down his chest to show off a dozen gold chains.

His three old gang buddies followed him into the room. All three of them smirked at Marty like they had been taking lessons from their boss.

Marty stared. His father? This was what his mother meant? Biff Tannen?

‘My father?’ Marty yelled.

Biff glared at Marty as if the teenager had just crawled out from under a rock.

‘You’re supposed to be in Switzerland,’ he snapped, ‘you little son of a bitch!! Did you get kicked out of another boarding school?- He waggled a pudgy index finger at Marty’s mother. 'Damn Lorraine! Do you know how much perfectly good dough I've blown on this no-good kid of yours? On all three of them?’

Mom took a couple of quick, nervous puffs from her cigarette before she replied.

‘What the hell do you care?’ she retorted. ‘We can afford it! The least we can do is make a better life for our children!’

She walked over to a portable bar next to the picture window, and poured herself three fingers of scotch.

‘Marty’syour kid, not mine, and all the money in the world wouldn’t do jack shit for that lazy bum! He’s a butthead, just like his old man was!’

Marty’s mother slammed her glass down. ‘Don’t you dare speak that way about George! You’re not even half the man he was!’

Biff took two quick steps across the room and slapped her full across the face.

‘Never talk to me like that, you hear me?’ Biff growled, his hand lifted to hit her again. ‘Ever!’

Marty's mother cringed.

This was too much! Marty couldn’t stand here and watch this happen. He ran for Biff.

3-D and Skinhead grabbed him and pulled him away.

Marty’s mother rubbed her cheek and jaw. Even with the heavy make-up, Marty could see an angry red welt forming there.

Biff smirked at the captive Marty.

‘Always the little hothead, huh?’ He walked up to Marty. ‘Come on, want to take a poke at me?’ -

It would be a little tough, Marty thought, to take a poke at Biff while his goons were still holding onto him.

Biff sucker-punched Marty in the stomach.

‘Damn it, Biff!’ she hollered. ‘That’s it. I’m leaving!’ She turned and walked purposefully towards the door.

‘Sure, walk out!’ Biff called after her. ‘And I’ll cut you off - you and your kids!’

She paused in the doorway.

‘I can get Dave’s probation revoked, and he’ll have to go to prison.’ Biff’s smirk spread across his face. He was really enjoying this. ‘Maybe he’ll even end up sharing a cell with your brother Joey. And Linda - I’ll close her accounts and she can settle her debts with the bank all by herself. And Marty, well -’

‘OK, Biff,’ she murmured. ‘You win. I’ll’ - it took her a moment to get the final word out - ‘stay.’ 

Mom’s shoulders slumped in defeat. She turned around and walked slowly back to the bar.

Biff grinned, showing all his teeth.

‘Damn right you’ll stay.’ He turned to Marty, the smile gone. ‘As for you, I’ll be back up here in an hour.’ He looked down at his fingers as his right hand curled into a fist. ‘So you’d better 
not
 be -’

Biff stormed from the room. His thugs let Marty go and followed their boss.

Marty looked over at his mother. She looked away, as if she couldn’t face the questions in his gaze.

‘I had it coming, Marty,’ she said slowly. ‘I was wrong. He was right.’

Marty couldn’t believe this.

‘Mom, what are you saying? You’re actually defending him!’

She shook her head. ‘He’s my husband, and he takes care of all of us, and he deserves our respect.’ This got worse with everything she said.

‘Your husband?’ Marty yelled. He was getting really upset. ‘Respect? How can he be your husband? How could you leave Dad for him?’

Mom looked back to Marty, the pain in her eyes turned to concern.

‘Leave Dad?’ she asked gently, 'Marty, are you feeling all right?’

‘No!’ Marty replied vehemently.‘ I'm not feeling aII right! I don’t understand one damned thing that’s going on around here and why nobody can give me a straight answer!’ 

His mother’s brow furrowed  as she shook her head again.

‘They must have really hit you over the head hard.’ 

But Marty had had enough of this nonsense. He needed some answers!

‘Mom,’ he insisted, ‘I want just one thing. Where’s my father? Where’s George McFly?’

‘Marty,’ she said, slowly and sadly, ‘George - your father - is in the same place he’s been for the last twelve years. Oak Park Cemetery.’

Marty ran.

He raced across the cemetery in the bright moonlight, darting wildly from row to row of gravestones, barely avoiding dead trees and marble monuments in his panicked scramble to know the truth. He scanned the names etched in granite as he ran, half of him searching for the gravestone with his father’s name, the other half still somehow hoping, wishing, praying that his mother had lied, that there would be no gravestone, that his father would still be alive.

He stopped, and took a step backward.

There it was. A simple, granite marker, smaller than most of the others around it, with three lines etched in the stone: