But, even in ruins, the place was definitely the high school. So Doc had brought him back to the right place. This was Hill Valley, all right.
That meant something else had gone wrong.
‘It’s got to be the wrong year!’ Marty said aloud.
He walked slowly across the street. Something must have gone wrong with Doc’s time machine. But where - or when - had the time machine left him?
There was a newspaper on the porch in front of him. That would tell him what he needed to know. He ran onto the porch and scooped up the folded paper. He opened it, looking for the dateline under the masthead:
SATURDAY OCTOBER 26 1985
‘1985! ’ Marty yelled. ‘It can’t be!’
There was a sound right behind him - like somebody pumping a shotgun. Marty felt something cold and hard pressed against the side of his head - something like the barrel of a shotgun.
A voice spoke behind him:
So you re the son of a bitch who’s been stealing my newspapers!’
Marty knew that voice, sure to strike terror into the hearts of teenagers throughout Hill Valley. He turned, slowly and carefully.
‘Mr Strickland!'
The bald vice-principal in charge of discipline tipped his gun down slightly and frowned back at Marty. He looked even more fierce than the teenager remembered. Maybe it was because Mr Strickland had somehow gotten a long and livid knife scar across his face that made him look like he was going to kill Marty at any minute. Or maybe it was that flak jacket Mr Strickland was wearing over his bathrobe. Whatever it was, he looked twice as mean as he ever had before.
But Strickland still hadn't recognised him.
‘It’s me, sir!’ He pointed at his chest. ‘Marty! Marty McFly!’
‘Who?' Strickland demanded.
‘Marty McFly. Don’t you know me, sir?’ What sort of world would this be if the vice-principal in charge of detention didn’t recognise him?
Strickland lowered his gun. squinting at Marty in the darkness.
‘I’ve never seen you before,’ he said with a shake of his head. ‘But you look like a slacker!’
Wait a minute! Maybe Strickland recognised him
‘That’s right!’ Marty exclaimed enthusiastically.
‘You're always calling me a slacker! I'm always late, you’re always giving me tardy slips.’
Strickland still stared as if he had never seen this teenager before. There had to be some way to remind him. Of course!
‘You just gave me detentionlast week!’ Marty added happily.
Strickland nodded to himself, as if Marty had confirmed something he had known all along.
‘Last week?’ the vice-principal snapped. ‘Now I know you’re lying.’ He nodded across the street. ‘The school’s been burned down for six years.’
Strickland glanced meaningfully at the shotgun.
‘Now you’ve got exactly three seconds to get off my porch with your nuts intact.’
He curled his finger around the trigger.
‘One.’
What? He wasgoing to shoot Marty? But he couldn’t! ‘Mr Strickland!’ Marty insisted. ‘You’ve got to tell ; me what's going on here! ’
‘Two,’ was Strickland’s only reply. He raised the shotgun.
A car screeched up to the curb, full of scruffy teens sporting leather jackets and multi-coloured mohawks. , And, Marty noticed, all of them had guns, too.
‘Eat lead, Strickland!’ the mangiest of the bunch announced. The entire punk-filled carload opened fire. Bullets strafed the porch. Strickland ducked for cover, as Marty vaulted over the railing. He was in the middle of a war!
Strickland came back up shooting.
‘Eat buckshot, slackers!’
Marty ran like hell. He had to get out of here!
But where was he?
And where could he go?
Chapter Eleven
Marty ran all the way to Courthouse Square. He had to go this way to get to Doc’s Jab anyway, if Doc’s lab was still there - and Marty could make it that far without getting shot. In the meantime, maybe he could find somebody here to tell him what was going on.
He walked past the ‘Hill Valley - A Nice Place to Live’ sign. It was riddled with bullet holes.
The Courthouse had changed, too. Someone had turned it into a hotel - and what a hotel! It looked like something straight out of Las Vegas, full of neon and glaring lights.
Marty couldn’t believe it when he read the sign:
BIFF TANNEN’S PLEASURE PARADISE
Biff Tannen? Marty thought? The Biff Tannen?
But there was more to the sign, below the name, flashing one after another:
HOTEL
RESORT
CASINO
GIRLS
And that wasn’t all! Right in the middle of the sign was a huge portrait of Biff, lighting a cigar with a hundred dollar bill.
It was bright! It was garish! It had absolutely no taste! It had to be the same Biff Tannen!
Marty was overwhelmed. It was the middle of the night, and the place was doing a fantastic business! People streamed in and out of the door marked CASINO - most of them fat, middle-aged men in business suits, each one with a much younger woman -sometimes two - on one or both of his arms, and all of them talking and laughing.
Whatever they were saying, though, was completely lost in the roar of motorcycles. The grass and hedges of the square were gone, paved over with asphalt, and filled now with a hundred bikers, drag racing and revving their engines.
As Marty looked around, he realised the whole square was different. The aerobics place and family stores had disappeared, replaced by adult book stores, bars, pawn shops, bail bondsmen, and porno theatres - and all of those were open for business, too. The whole town seemed to be open all night!
And behind it all, on every side of the square, even towering over the Pleasure Palace, were row after row of tall industrial smokestacks, all spewing thick smoke into the darkness.
Hill Valley certainly had changed.
The front door of the Biff Tannen Pleasure Palace slammed open, and three men emerged, half-dragging, half-carrying a fourth. It looked like three bouncers getting rid of a drunk. At least, Marty reflected, that sort of thing hadn’t changed.
Marty could have sworn he knew those bouncers.
They were older than the last time he had seen them, but those three bouncers looked an awful lot like those guys that used to hang around with Biff back in the fifties - Match, Skinhead and 3-D. All of them wore suits now. Match now wore a cowboy hat, while Skinhead’s crewcut was a lot greyer than before. And 3-D's glasses were a lot fancier. The way they gleamed under the neon, they almost looked like they had jewels embedded in the rims. But all three were the same bullies they’d been back in 1955.
‘And don’t ever come beggin’ for drinks in here again!’ 3-D yelled. ‘Friggin’ lush!’
The drunk picked himself up off the pavement.
‘Hey,’ he called after the bouncers, his voice slightly slurred, ‘can’t you guys take a joke?’
The drunk reached into the pocket of his ragged coat, and fished out a pint bottle, which he drained in a single gulp. He threw the empty bottle in the general direction of the hotel, then started to stagger down the street.
There was something disturbingly familiar about that drunk - the curly hair and crooked smile, the way he laughed, even the way he staggered. In fact, the drunk looked just like Marty’s older brother!
Marty walked quickly - but very cautiously -through the bikers who filled the asphalt-covererd Courthouse Square, past roaring fires in oil drums and seven-foot-tall guys swinging chains, toward the Pleasure Palace.
‘Dave!’ Marty called.
The drunk turned unsteadily to look at him.
‘Marty!’ he called, his unfocused face breaking into a broad grin. He gave his brother an exaggerated wave. ‘Hey, bro, what’s happening!’ He frowned as Marty got closer. ‘Hey, you’re looking kind of ragge
d there - what did you sleep in your clothes again last night?'
His brother should talk, Marty thought. He had hardly ever seen anyone look so down and out. But now, maybe, he could get some answers.
‘Dave, my God, what’s happened to you? What’s happened to the town? What’s going on around here?’
‘Oh, all this?’ Dave waved generously at the drag racers on the street. ‘It’s the biker’s convention!’
Dave turned slowly back to his brother. It seemed to take his eyes a moment to focus.
‘So, Marty,’ he said at last, ‘when’d you get back?’
Marty had no idea what Dave was talking about.
‘Back?’ he asked. ‘Back from where?’
‘Well,’ Dave drawled in response, ‘if you don’t know, how do you expect me to tell you?’
He laughed as if that was the funniest thing he had ever heard.
Dave grabbed his brother’s arm. ‘Hey, let’s go have a few, huh? You got money, don’t you?’ He started to pull Marty toward the tavern.
Marty pulled back.
What are you talking about, Dave? I’m under age!’ brother stopped and stared at him.
‘So, Marty,’ he said at last, ‘when’d you get back?’ Marty had no idea what Dave was talking about. ‘Back?’ he asked. ‘Back from where?’
‘Well,’ Dave drawled in response, ‘if you don’t know, how do you expect me to tell you?’
He laughed as if that was the funniest thing he had ever heard.
Dave grabbed his brother’s arm. ‘Hey, let’s go have a few, huh? You got money, don’t you?’ He started to pull Marty toward the tavern.
Marty pulled back.
‘What are you talking about, Dave? I’m under age!’ His brother stopped and stared at him.
‘Under age? Quit kiddin’ around! You been over fourteen since’- he paused with a frown, trying to concentrate -‘since’- he shrugged and grinned, as if concentration was far beyond someone in his state -‘well, since your fourteenth birthday!’
Dave thought that remark was funnier than the last one. He roared and roared.
‘Fourteen?’ Marty asked. Did his brother mean the drinking age around here was fourteen? Oh, well, it didn’t matter. There was only one thing that did what had happened to everybody?
‘Listen Dave, I gotta find Mom and Dad.’
Dave stared back at his brother, suddenly sober.
‘Dad? You gotta find Dad? That’s sick, Marty. That’s really sick. What’s the matter with you, anyway?’ He shook his head, as if he couldn’t believe anyone could be that unfeeling. ‘And since when are you and Mom on speaking terms again?’
Marty was getting more confused with every passing minute here.
‘Speaking terms?’ he asked. What was going on here? But, maybe, Marty thought, any explanation Dave might give him would confuse him even more.
‘Look, do you know where she is?’ he asked Dave instead. ‘Can you tell me where I can find Mom?’ Dave shrugged as if he could care less.
‘Same place as usual, I guess. In there.’
He pointed toward Biff Tannen’s Paradise Hotel.
In there? .
Marty turned back to his brother, but Dave had already staggered half-way back toward the bar. Maybe. Marty thought, he should stop Dave. But he needed to find his mother, and figure out what had happened!
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.
Chapter Twelve
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 wi
ndow 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.
Back to the Future Part II Page 9