Back to the Future Part II (15 page)

Wait a moment. Why was his horse talking? Even worse, why was his horse talking with the voice of Marty McFly?

Doc opened his eyes.

‘Come in, Doc!’ Marty’s voice crackled on the walkie-talkie.‘Are you there?’

Doc sat up quickly, and reached for the radio’s talk button. He must have dozed off there for a minute.

‘Check, Marty,’ he replied, stifling a yawn. ‘I’m here, ever vigilant.’

‘Biff just left his house,’ Marty reported. Tm tailing him. No sign of Old Biff yet.’

Doc stretched a little, trying to get a couple of kinks out of his back. A DeLorean wasn’t the most comfortable place to sleep in the world. He spoke into the walkie-talkie again.

‘Roger. 10-4 Marty. Keep me posted on all consequential developments. Signing off.’

He yawned and tossed the walkie-talkie over on the passenger seat, then let his head fall back again against the head rest. These DeLoreans did have comfortable headrests. He would close his eyes for just another minute or two. This time travel could really tire a scientist out!

Biff had walked all the way into Courthouse Square -the real Courthouse Square, the way Marty remembered it from 1955. And Marty had followed him all the way, trying to keep enough distance between them while not losing Biff around a turn or down a side street. So far, he didn’t think Biff had looked back once.

A tow truck was just pulling up in front of Western Auto, Biff’s 1940 Ford Convertible hanging off the back. The car looked almost as good as it had in front of the Biff Tannen Museum - certainly a lot better than when it had hit the manure truck!

A guy in mechanic's overalls got out of the cab of the truck and walked around to disconnect Biffs car from the tow. The circular name patch over his pocket said his name was Terry.

Marty stared at him: the mechanic looked familiar somehow. And then he remembered - this was the old guy who had asked him for a donation to save the clock tower in the future! Of course he was sixty years younger here in 1955, but yes, it was the same man. Marty remembered that the guy had connected the clock tower lightning storm with repairing Biff s car, and now here it was, happening right in front of him.

‘Here she is, Biff,’ Terry gestured proudly, ‘all fixed up, like new. Except we couldn't get her started.’ He glanced over at the eager Tannen. ‘You got a kill switch on this thing?’

Tannen grinned at that.

‘Nope, you just gotta have the right touch,’ he bragged. ‘Ain’t nobody can start this car but me.’

He climbed in the car and turned the key. The car growled to life on the first try.

The mechanic nodded distractedly, as if he was slightly impressed. He pulled a clipboard out of his truck and checked the paperwork.

’Let’s see,’ he said as he read the paper before him. ’The bill comes to three hundred and two dollars and fifty seven cents.’

Biff turned a shade of red almost as deep as the Western Auto sign.

’Three hundred bucks?’ he screamed. ’Three hundred bucks? For a couple of dents? That's bullshit, Terry!’

‘Actually,’ Terry replied in a bored tone, as if he had expected Biff’s temper tantrum all along, ‘it was horseshit. The car was full of it. We even found some in the glove compartment. We had so much manure piled up in the service bay, we had to pay old man Jones eighty bucks to haul it away.’

Bill laughed nastily.

‘Yeah, and I’ll bet the old skinflint resold it, too. I oughta get something for that!’

Terry the mechanic turned toward the store. He waved for Biff to follow him.

‘C’mon,’ Terry said, ‘let’s write you up inside.’

Biff cut the engine and climbed out of the car.

‘Three hundred bucks!’ he continued loudly. ‘I’ll tell you, Terry, if I ever get my hands on that son of a bitch who caused this, I’ll break his neck!’

Marty had to grin at that. As the son of a bitch that Biff was talking about, he had to admit it - it was all sorts of fun to get Biff Tannen pissed off. As long, Marty added to himself, as Biff didn’t have a gun.

Bill and Terry disappeared inside the store. In another minute, Marty imagined. Biff would come back out and drive away - and there was no way Marty could follow him on foot. There was only one thing to do, then.

Marty would have to hide in the back of Biff’s car.

Marty crouched in the back seat of Biffs car. This early in the morning, there was hardly anyone around in Hill Valley, and it had been easy for him to jump in the car without being noticed. He cautiously peeked over the front seat, and saw Biff come out of the Western Auto, carrying half a dozen cans of oil.

Marty ducked down in the well between the seats. Now, as long as Biff didn’t look back here -He felt the half-dozen oil cans get dumped on his back. As much as it hurt, he suffered it in silence. Now, as long as Biff didn’t look where he had thrown things -

‘Well, well,’ Biff said loudly, ‘lookee what we have here!’

For a second, Marty thought Biff had spotted him. But then he realised Biff’s voice was growing fainter. Biff was moving away from the car.

What was going on? Marty couldn’t stand it. The oil cans rolled toward his feet as he lifted his head to peek out again.

Marty’s mother, Lorraine, had just come out of Ruth’s Frock Shop. Marty recognised her dark-haired best friend, Babs, too. This being 1955, of course. Lorraine was still a teenager, just about Marty's age. She was carrying a new dress with her - a dress, Marty remembered, that she would wear to tonight’, dance.

Biff had gone over to talk to the girls. ‘Hey, nice dress, Lorraine.’ He smirked at the two of them. ‘Although I think you’d look better wearin’ nothin’ at all.’

Lorraine rolled her eyes heavenward. ‘Biff, why don’t you take a long walk off a short pier!’

She and Babs started to walk away. Biff followed.
‘Hey,’ he protested, ‘I’m just trying to make polite conversation.’

‘You heard her,’ Babs broke in. ‘Make like a banana and split.’

‘I ain’t talkin’ to you!’ Biff snapped. He turned to the other girl. ‘Listen Lorraine, there’s that dance at school tonight. Now that my car’s all fixed, I figured I’d cut you a break and give you the honour of goin' with the best-lookin’ guy in school.'

Lorraine stopped and looked up at the still-smirking boy.

‘Kind of short notice, isn’t it, Biff?’

Biff shrugged generously.

‘Hey, I’m a spontaneous guy.’

Lorraine nodded curtly and started to walk again

‘Yeah, well, I’m busy.’

Biff stepped in front of her so she couldn’t leave.

Yeah? What could be more important than going with me?’

Lorraine glanced at Babs.

‘Washing my hair. ’

Babs started to giggle.

‘Oh,’ Biff replied angrily, ‘that’s about as funny as a screen door on a battleship!’

‘Submarine, you idiot,’ Marty muttered to himself.

A screen door on a submarine! Biff could never get those sayings right!

‘Look, Biff,’ Lorraine said patiently, Tve already been asked to the dance.’

‘By who?’ Biff demanded. ‘That bug, George McFly?’

Lorraine frowned at Biff’s suggestion, her patience at an end.

‘I’m going with Calvin Klein, OK?’

She meant Marty, of course. That Calvin Klein name was the one he’d gone by last time he was here. Lorraine had called him that when she had seen the name sewn into his underwear; and Marty figured that, since he couldn’t very well go by his own name -‘Calvin Klein’ would have to do.

But Biff went crazy when Lorraine mentioned that name. He grabbed Lorraine’s arm and dragged her toward him.

‘No, it’s not OK!’ he screamed. ‘You’re going with me, understand?’

Whoa, Marty thought. Temper, temper. All this because the guy Biff knew as Calvin Klein had made him run his car into a manure truck?

‘Get your hands off me!’ Lorraine shouted back.

Biff was hurting her! Marty wanted to go out there and give Biff some of his own medicine. But he couldn’t show himself to Biff now! That might blow the whole thing, and he’d never find the Sports Almanac!

Lorraine tried to pull away, but Biff wouldn’t let go. Both of Marty’s hands balled into fists without him even thinking about it. He couldn’t just sit here and watch this. Marty bit his knuckle. His mother was always telling him not to fight - not to let the others goad him into something by calling him ‘chicken’. She always wanted him to count to ten. Well, he would; this time, for his mother. But if Biff was stili manhandling Lorraine by the time he was done, Marty would have to go out and stop it - no matter what else happened!

One... two...

‘When are you gonna get it through your thick skull, Lorraine?’ Biff demanded. ‘You’re 
my
 girl!’

Five... six ...

‘Biff Tannen,’ she spat back, ‘I wouldn’t be your girl even if you had a million dollars!’

With that, she stomped on his foot.

Biff let go with a gasp, then Lorraine bashed him in the head with the dress box.

Lorraine and Babs quickly walked down the street.

Marty let out all the air he had been holding in. He was glad that was over.

Oh, shit! There was somebody else getting into the front seat of the car.

Marty ducked down quick, hoping he hadn't been noticed.

‘Oh yes, you will!’ Bill half-shouted, half-groaned through his pain. ‘It’s you and me, Lorraine! It’s meant to be! You’re gonna marry me someday. Lorraine! You’re gonna be my wife!’

Marty shivered as he thought about that other 1985, when Biff’s words had come true. He’d do almost anything to make sure that didn't happen again. But who had gotten into the car? Marty looked up at the driver’s seat, and saw a head of white hair.

It was Old Biff, from the future! This must be the moment they first met, when Old Biff gave his younger self the Sports Almanac!

‘You always did have a way with women,’ Old Biff cackled.

‘Hey!’ his younger self hollered. ‘Get the hell out of my car, old man!’

But Old Biff only laughed again.

‘You wanna marry that girl, Biff? I can help you make it happen.’

‘Yeah?’ Biff asked sarcastically. ‘Who are you, Miss Lonelyhearts?’

Old Biff sighed.

‘Get in the car, butthead,’ he ordered.

‘Who you callin’ butthead, butthead?' the young-ster shot back.

Marty heard the engine catch, then come to life with a roar. Old Biff must have started the car.

‘How’d you know how to do that?’ the younger Biff demanded. ‘Nobody can start my car except me.’

‘Just get in, Tannen,’ Old Biff ordered. ‘Today’s your lucky day.’

There was a moment’s silence, then the sound of footsteps, and a door opening and dosing. Tim teenager had decided to get into the car.

Old Biff eased the old Ford forward.

Marty let out a deep breath. So far, he thought, so good.

When he decided to hide in the back of Biff s roadster, he never guessed he would have both Biffs in the front seat. But, up ’til now at least, neither one of them had looked back. The way they were jawing up there now, Marty hoped they wouldn t have time to look at anything else.

A couple of minutes passed, then the car drove out of the sunlight and stopped. Old Biff turned off the engine. Marty looked up and saw rafters overhead. They must be in Biffs garage.

‘How’d you know where I live?’ the younger Biff demanded.

‘I know a lot about you. Biff,’ the older version replied smugly. ‘For example, I know you’d like to make a lot of money.’

‘Yeah, so?’ the teenager mumbled, obviously not impressed. ‘Who wouldn’t?’

‘Could be,’ Old Biff went on slyly, ‘I’m the guy to show you how.’

‘Sure, right. Who are you supposed to be, pops? My fairy godmother?’

Marty thought the young Biff would be surprised to know just how right he was.

‘Let’s just say we’re related, Biff,’ the older version answered. ‘And, that being the case, I’ve got a little present for you.’

There was a rustling up in the front seat. This was it! Old Biff was going to show him the almanac!

‘See this book?’ Old Biff continued. ‘This book will tell you the outcome of every major sports event ’til the end of the century. All you have to do is bet on the winner and you’ll never lose. ’

‘That’s very nice,’ the teenager replied, as if he was sure now that the old man was crazy. ‘Thank you very much.’ His voice gained a hard edge as he added: ‘Now why don’t you just make like a tree and get outta here!’

‘It’s “leave” you idiot! ’ Old Biff shouted back at him.

' "Make like a tree and leave!” You sound like a damned fool when you say it wrong! ’

‘Fine!' the teenager snapped, still not convinced ‘And take your book with you! ’

But Old Biff wouldn’t leave.

‘Sure,’ he insisted sarcastically, ‘be a butthead and be poor for the rest of your life. But you could be rich. You could buy anything you want. Have any girl you want. You could own this town.’ He paused for a minute, like a guy who had hooked the fish and was just waiting to reel it in. ‘All you gotta do is bet on the winners.’

There was a crackle of static. For one panicked second, Marty thought Doc was calling him on the walkie-talkie. The Biffs would hear - he’d be discovered - everything was lost.

And then Marty realised one of the Biffs had turned on the radio. He heard a couple of blasts of music as somebody fiddled with the dial, then the sound of a crowd - the kind of noise you always heard in the background of a baseball or football game.

‘Five yard penalty on UCLA,’ the radio sports-caster announced, ‘pushing them back to the Washington nineteen yard line. UCLA trails, seventeen to sixteen. It’s fourth and eleven with only forty-eight seconds remaining in this game. The Bruins have not looked good today, and I’d say that Washington has pulled off the biggest upset of the season! ’

Marty could hear the sound of pages turning.

‘He’s wrong,’ Old Biff said authoritatively. ‘UCLA’s gonna win it - nineteen to seventeen.*

‘What, are you deaf, old man?’ the younger Biff asked. ‘He just said it was over!’

‘Here’s the snap by Palmer to Bradley,’ the sports-caster said, even louder than before. Marty realised Old Biff must have turned up the radio. ‘Decker back to place-kick formation. Here comes Decker with the kick, it looks good folks, it looks very good -