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Near Madison, Nevada Tuesday June 23, 1987 4:55 a.m.
It was early in the morning and the sun was just beginning to rise in the sky. Doc, Clara, Marty, Jules, Verne, and Einstein were all crammed into the Brown family car on their way up to a large, remote house that Doc and Clara had rented for two weeks of vacation. Doc felt that it would be good to get his family and himself away from the more hectic pace of Hill Valley for a while without having to resort to leaving the twentieth century. Doc wanted to take a vacation that wouldn't require the use of the DeLorean for a change.
Marty needed to get away from Hill Valley himself, but his reasons were more personal needed a vacation himself, but for different reasons than Doc and his family. To be truthful, he really didn't have anything better to do. College was between semesters and there wasn't anything going on with his rock band at the moment. Besides, he could use a break from the constant fighting that he and Jennifer had been doing. The stress was starting to take its toll on him emotionally and physically. He thought that a little vacation might be a way to keep his mind off his girlfriend.
The only difficulty now was that Doc had spent the entire night driving around, because of a small mistake that Marty had made. Therefore, Doc hadn't had one wink of sleep since leaving Hill Valley and no one else in the car had fared much better due to the cramped conditions. The tension in the car was building up thicker than a pea-soup fog and it was about to explode. Doc was reminded of the very reason why he never took his family on a regular vacation.
"Man, Doc," Marty said as they arrived in the sparsely populated town. "There really isn't much to this place. I'm only counting three paved streets."
"Is that a problem, Marty?" Doc replied, irritably. "This town is strictly a vacation town. Most of its population consists of people who are trying to escape modern civilization."
"And end up in a replica of the Twilight Zone," Marty said under his breath.
"What was that, Marty?" Doc asked, testily.
"It was nothing, Doc," Marty answered. "Forget it." He had to remind himself that Doc was just tired.
Clara was trying to suppress her exhaustion. "Where are we, Emmett?" she asked through a deep yawn.
"We're finally within the Madison town limits," Doc replied wearily to his wife. "We should arrive at the house within the hour."
"I can?t believe we've been in this car all night," Clara said. "We should have arrived at that house hours ago."
"You're absolutely right, Clara," Doc replied through clenched teeth. He took a deep breath to try to relax his nerves. "The only problem is that someone forgot to point out that turnoff like he was supposed to."
"I'm sorry about that, Doc," Marty replied softly from his place in the back seat. "It's not like I did it on purpose. I was just a little distracted."
Doc let out an exasperated sigh. "Marty you had the map and you knew you had to keep a lookout. You could have at least tried to pay attention. For crying out loud we almost ended up in San Diego!"
Marty just sat back in the seat and stared out the window, barely keeping his temper from getting the better of him. Doc had been harping on him for hours about that one mistake and Marty was getting sick of hearing about it.
Clara touched her husband's arm lightly. "He's apologized for that a dozen times. Just let it go."
Doc said nothing more. The next few minutes were a tense silence. Then, the boys woke up.
"Why are we still in the stinking car?" Verne whined. "I thought we would be there by now!"
Talk about the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back, or in this case, Doc's sanity.
"Damn it, I don't want to hear one more word about us not being there yet!" Doc shouted, his last nerve breaking.
"Doc, cool it!" Marty shouted. He just couldn't hold it in any longer. "You may be tired, but you don't have to take it out on the rest of us!"
"Marty, shut up!" Doc replied, as he clenched his teeth yet again. "You are the last person I want to hear from!"
"Emmett!" Clara exclaimed. "That was uncalled for!" She turned around to see Marty staring out the car window again. He looked hurt though he also had a far-away look in his eyes as if he was lost in a thought.
In fact he was. His mind kept going back to the fight he and Jennifer had had a couple of days before he left on this trip. It was the biggest and nastiest fight they had ever had and it ended with Jennifer telling Marty that maybe they should start seeing other people. Marty tried his hardest to think of what had started this most recent argument, but like the others before it, it seemed to spring up out of the most innocent of discussions. This time, though, things seemed like they might really be over. He had tried calling Jennifer a million times to try to work things out, but to no avail. She seemed to want nothing to do with him. However, in spite of it all, Marty didn't want to believe that things really might be completely over between them.
"Marty, are you okay?" Clara asked, interrupting his thoughts. She was eyeing him critically as if she could read the depressing thoughts in his mind.
"Sure, Clara, I'm fine," Marty lied as he managed a half smile. "I'm just tired."
Clara just nodded in reply and turned back around in her seat, but she wasn't convinced. She had noticed that Marty had been rather quiet during the entire trip and she knew from experience that Marty wasn't the quiet type. She knew in her gut that something had to be wrong, but she felt that it wasn't her place to pry. She shot her husband a LOOK as if to say, "Now you've done it." Doc caught the look out of the corner of his eye and sighed in defeat.
The rest of the ride resumed in silence.
They arrived at their house about thirty-five minutes later. The house was remote in every sense of the word. It was hidden from the main section of the town by a seemingly endless stretch of winding dirt road that finally ended in a long, snaking driveway. The long driveway made the building invisible from the dirt road.
Marty leaned forward in his seat to see the house as they coasted up the last leg of the driveway. There was nothing exceptional about the building. In fact, it was about what Marty had expected. Marty could count at least two floors. He noticed a single window between the second floor and the roof. He assumed that must be the attic. He had previously been told that his room would be up there. Doc had assured him that the current owner had remodeled the attic into a bedroom when he had redone the rest of the house.
Doc parked the car and everyone scrambled out to stretch their legs. Marty was the first one out of the car for he was in the biggest hurry to escape Doc's crabby mood. He grabbed his duffel bag, sleeping bag, and pillow from the back of the station wagon and as soon as Doc unlocked the front door, Marty made a mad dash up the two and a half flights of stairs to his room.
Doc turned around to see Clara staring at him. She had an "I told you so." look in her eyes. She grabbed her bag, some blankets, and a couple of pillows and joined Doc at the door
"Don't you think you should apologize to Marty?" Clara suggested.
"I'll talk to him after I get some sleep, Clara," Doc replied.
"How about right now, Emmett?" Clara said, sounding more insistent.
"It can wait a couple of hours," Doc said irritably.
Clara looked Doc in the eye. "Emmett, I saw how he reacted to your outburst in the car. He looked upset. I don't think you should wait."
Doc turned away from her in reply. He went back to the car to get the rest of the supplies and help the boys with their stuff. Clara sighed and went inside. She climbed the stairs to the second floor and proceeded down the narrow hall toward the master bedroom.
Clara's first impression of the room was that it wasn't terribly large. She set her suitcase down on the floor and placed the blankets and pillows on the bed. She walked over to the only window and opened it up so she could air out the room. The air in the room was rather stuffy.
Clara heard a noise from above and looked up. She had almost forgotten that Marty's room was overhead. A frown spread across her face as she thought of her husband's behavior. She didn't blame Marty for bolting out of there like he did. She hoped that Emmett would come to his senses soon and talk to him.
She heard the door slam shut then and heard two pairs of feet ascend the stairs. She poked her head into the hall to see her sons heading to their room with their own luggage and bedding.
"Mom," Verne whined, "I thought we were supposed to be on vacation. Why do I have to share a room with him?"
"As if sharing a room with you is my idea of a fun vacation," Jules retorted.
"Enough you two," Clara said firmly. "I want you to get some sleep. You boys barely slept all night."
Jules and Verne knew better than to argue with their mother. It was always a lost cause. They retreated silently into their room dragging their stuff on the floor behind them as they went.
Clara ducked back into her room and glanced at her bag. She didn't feel like unpacking it now. She decided, though, that it might be wise to make the bed. She was contemplating talking to Marty herself when she heard the door open and close downstairs.
Clara heard her husband drop something by the door and then ascend the stairs. A moment later, he appeared in the room with his own bag and with Einstein close at his heels.
Clara stopped making up the bed and gave her husband a look. Doc knew what that look meant and it had nothing to do with the dog. He sighed and he set the bag down on the floor.
"You're not going to drop this, are you?" he asked, wearily.
Clara shook her head "no" in reply.
"Clara, I would really like to get some sleep first," Doc protested. "I'm in no shape to talk to anyone right now."
Clara threw down the blanket she was holding. "Emmett, what in God's name is wrong with you?" she inquired. "You insisted that Marty come on this trip with us. Why are you being so miserable to him?"
"Clara, I'm in no mood to have this conversation right now," Doc replied, as he picked up the blanket that Clara had thrown. He resumed making the bed as his wife just stood there, staring at him in disbelief.
"Is there a problem, Clara?" Doc asked, his voice edgy.
"Don't take that tone with me, Emmett Lathrop Brown!" Clara warned. "If you want to be a curmudgeon for this entire trip that is fine, but kindly leave the rest of us out of it!" With that, she stalked out of the bedroom, slamming the door behind her.
Meanwhile, in the attic, Marty was more or less getting settled in. He was still unnerved by Doc's crabby attitude and the whole business with Jennifer back in Hill Valley. He considered writing her a letter right then to ask her why. She couldn't hang up a letter, right?
"No, McFly,? he said to himself, "but she can tear up a letter."
He picked up his sleeping bag and headed towards the bed. He nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard a loud bang come from the opposite side of the room. He looked around, but saw nothing amiss. Another noise followed it. It sounded like laughter. Marty was sure he was imagining things this time. He was the only one in the room.
"Great, now I'm hearing things," he muttered to himself. "Next I'll be seeing ghosts."
The temperature in the room started to drop rapidly until Marty was sure he could see his breath. Thoroughly chilled, he hugged his arms tightly around himself to try to stay warm. Then just as suddenly as the coldness appeared it vanished and the room was once again at a comfortable temperature. He was unable to think of an explanation and merely summed it up to being a quirk of an old house. He sighed wearily as he unrolled his sleeping bag on his bed. He grabbed his pillow and flung it towards the head of the bed. It landed sideways.
Marty shrugged. "Good enough," he mumbled to himself. He grabbed his bag and shook the contents out on the floor. He fished out his Walkman and a tape and sat down on the bed. He had just inserted the tape into the Walkman and put the headphones on his ears when he heard a knock at his bedroom door.
"Come in," he said, hesitantly.
The door opened and Clara walked in. "Relax, Marty," she replied. "The dictator is sleeping. Are you getting settled in?" Clara's eyes drifted to the pile of clothes on the floor and she stifled a laugh. "There is a bureau for those," she said.
"I was getting to it," Marty said. "Eventually."
"I'll bet," Clara retorted. "Now I know where Verne is picking up that bad habit."
"Ha, ha, Clara," Marty said. "He probably gets it from Doc."
Clara smiled a little at that one, but her expression quickly turned serious. "Actually, Marty, I came up here to see how you were feeling after my husband's atrocious behavior in the car. He becomes rather unreasonable when he hasn't slept. I was a little concerned about you."
"You don't have to worry, Clara. I'm fine," Marty replied. "Besides I'm kind of used to Doc's weird moods by now."
"You didn't look fine in the car, Marty," Clara said.
"I just had some stuff on my mind, that's all," Marty replied, too quickly.
Clara's eyebrows furrowed with concern. She sat down next to Marty on the bed. "Is there something that you want to talk about?" she asked him gently. "I'm willing to listen."
Marty sighed. He couldn't put up a front with Clara. However, he felt strange talking to her about what was wrong. He usually confided in Doc.
"Is everything all right at home, Marty?" she asked.
"Yeah, fine," Marty replied.
"Are you and Jennifer getting along okay?" Clara inquired.
Marty didn't reply. His eyes shifted to the floor. Clara knew she had hit the nail on the head.
"What happened?" she asked, gently.
Marty turned his head to face her. "Actually, Clara, I really don't want to talk about this right now," he said abruptly. "I kind of want to be alone."
Clara looked a little hurt by Marty's tone, but she didn't say anything. She got up and left the room, closing the door softly behind her.
Marty felt bad about the way he had spoken to Clara. However, he just wasn't ready to talk about his relationship problems yet. The wounds were still too fresh.
Marty turned the Walkman on and lay down on the bed. He closed his eyes and tried to let the music unwind his nerves and put him to sleep. Relaxation was futile, though. He had this overwhelmingly creepy feeling that he was being watched. Marty opened his eyes and sat up. He took his headphones off and looked around his room, but he didn't see anyone. Then he heard a noise outside his door.
"Clara?" Marty called.
Marty didn't get an answer. He got up and walked over to his door. He opened the door and looked out on the narrow landing, but nobody was there. He thought that Jules and Verne might be playing a joke on him, but realized he would have heard them on the stairway if that were true.
Marty went back inside and closed his door. "Man, McFly, you really need to get some sleep." he mumbled. "You're really starting to imagine some weird shit."
"That's what you think, mortal," a voice behind him said. A voice with a thick French accent.
Marty spun around in surprise. He saw a figure standing by the window. The figure quickly grew translucent and then fully disappeared.
Marty just stood there, stunned. "No, I didn't see that," he told himself. "Ghosts don't exist. I'm just tired and now I'm hallucinating."
The chill reappeared and Marty could hear the laughter again. The eerie sound made Marty cringe. This laughter didn't sound human. It grew louder and louder and it wasn't long before it started to get on Marty's last nerve.
"Shut up!" Marty shouted at the air.
The unearthly laughter stopped. The translucent figure reappeared by the window. Marty stood there in amazement, as the figure slowly grew more solid.
"Look, monsieur," it said, "I do not know who you think you are, but you have no business telling me anything. I wouldn't try it again."
"I'm really scared," Marty said sarcastically, feigning fright. "What will you do? Drag some chains around? Get real."
The figure promptly disappeared. "Like I'm going to let some stupid hallucination frighten me," Marty said to himself.
Marty started to climb back into his bed, when he felt himself being picked up by invisible hands.
"What the-?" Marty began.
However, he never got to finish his thought. He was flung into an adjacent wall with superhuman force.
Meanwhile, downstairs, Doc and Clara were both woken from their brief slumber by a loud crash from above their room.
"What the hell is Marty doing up there?" Doc asked irritably. "Doesn't he realize we're trying to sleep?"
"Try to tune it out, Emmett," Clara mumbled from her side of the bed.
Doc tried, but the loud noise was followed by another. He decided to take care of the situation, finally.
"Emmett, where are you going?" Clara asked as Doc walked to the door.
"I'm going upstairs to tell Marty to quit making so much racket!" Doc announced loudly and he left the room.
Doc rapidly made his way down the hall and up the narrow flight of stairs to the attic. He banged loudly on the door, but he didn't get an answer. He tried again, but Marty still didn't open the door. Doc angrily flung the door open to find Marty sitting on the floor holding his right arm.
"Marty, what the hell is going on here?" Doc shouted. "Why are you making so much racket up here?"
Marty looked up at him and for the first time Doc could see the fright in his eyes. "It wasn't me," Marty said, shakily. He was still holding his arm.
Doc didn't reply, but his eyes caught something about two feet above Marty's head. It appeared to be a huge dent. His eyes scanned the entire room and saw that Marty's bed had actually been turned over. His eye fell back to the dent and then to his shaken friend and he was left to draw his own conclusions.
"Marty, what happened up here?" Doc asked, not knowing what to think. "Did you do this?"
Marty looked at him with disbelief at first, then anger. "Did I do this?" he repeated through clenching teeth. "Jesus, Doc, what do you think?"
"Marty, I don't know what to think?" Doc asked, agitated and worried at the same time. "You were the only person up here."
"That was what I thought, too, Doc," Marty replied softly as he tried to stand up. He was able to stand, though he had to wait for a slight wave of dizziness to pass before he tried to walk.
"Marty, what the hell are you talking about?" Doc asked. What little patience he had was wearing thin. "I don't see anyone else in this room."
"I did see someone, Doc," Marty insisted, softly as he walked toward his bed.
Doc looked around. "Where?"
"He disappeared," Marty replied.
"Marty, I'm not in the mood for practical jokes," Doc replied wearily.
"I saw someone," Marty repeated.
"Marty it was most likely a delusion or hallucination brought on by fatigue," Doc said.
"It was not a damned hallucination, Doc!" Marty shouted angrily. He looked Doc in the eyes. "Hallucinations don't throw you into walls!"
Doc didn?t know how to respond to that. "How's your arm doing, Marty?" Doc asked instead.
"It's not broken," he mumbled.
Doc didn't say anything more, but proceeded to help Marty flip his bed back upright. Doc, then turned to leave, but he hesitated by the door. He glanced over at Marty who was replacing his sleeping bag and his pillow on his bed and he got a funny feeling that something wasn't right. Doc couldn't explain it, but it was a feeling of dread.
"What?" Marty asked, mildly irritated as he caught Doc staring at him.
"Do you want some aspirin or something for your arm?" Doc asked.
"No, I'm fine, Doc. Don't concern yourself," Marty replied, shortly. He picked up his Walkman and put his headphones on. He climbed into his sleeping bag and turned his back to Doc. A moment later Doc could hear loud music coming out of the headphones and he took the hint. Doc sighed and left the room. As he walked back to his room, he wondered how much worse this "vacation" was going to get. He was going to find out very soon.
It was the middle of the afternoon when Marty finally woke from his slumber. Marty took the headphones off his ears and placed the Walkman on the bed. He climbed out of bed and stretched momentarily. His arm still hurt a little and he sighed wearily. Doc's tirade that morning plus the scenes later in the attic were fresh in his mind. He wondered why Doc had invited him along on this so-called vacation after all.
Marty decided to go downstairs and see what the rest of the crew was up to. When he reached the living room, he saw Clara sitting in a chair reading a book. He didn't see or hear any sign of Doc or the boys.
Clara looked up from her book as Marty walked into the room. She studied him for a moment remembering how he had snapped at her earlier. "How was your nap?" she inquired. "You slept a long time."
"Guess I was really tired," Marty replied.
Clara wasn't convinced. "Emmett told me what happened earlier," Clara said. "Are you all right?"
"Yeah, I guess,? Marty replied, lying through his teeth. "What did Doc tell you?"
"He just said that you had an accident upstairs and that you were a little shaken up from it. Also, he said you really bruised your arm," she glanced quickly at his arm. "I guess you did."
Marty was relieved that Doc hadn't told her the entire story, but he was still eager to change the subject. "What are you reading?" he asked.
"A diary, I think," Clara said. ?I found it with the old books on the bookcase. It's morbid, but oddly intriguing."
"Morbid?" Marty asked as he sat down in a chair near Clara's. "What's in it?"
"This person wrote about how he was abused by his fanatically religious parents and eventually murdered them," Clara replied without looking up from the book.
"You're kidding?" Marty said.
Clara shook her head. "That is what this person wrote," she said
"That's awful," Marty said softly.
Apparently, he dabbled in the dark acts and that greatly upset his parents. They reasoned that he had been possessed by the Devil himself and that the Devil had to be exorcised. This entry talks about him planning to kill himself in the attic after committing the murders," Clara replied.
"Did all this happen here?" Marty asked.
"Possibly," Clara explained. "The owner said this house is over a hundred years old. It is more probable, though, that the owner acquired this book through a purchase or an inheritance. He certainly never mentioned any outlandish stories like this when we proposed to rent this house."
"Did that person really commit suicide?" Marty asked, tentatively.
Clara flipped through the remaining pages. "There are only a few more entries left. I would assume something must have happened."
Marty felt a shiver run down the length of his spine. He wondered if there was a connection between the story and the thing he had seen. "What would be the odds?" he thought.
"Where is everyone?" Marty asked, changing the subject yet again.
"They decided to explore some of the trails that run adjacent to the house. They've been gone a while," Clara replied.
"Why didn't you go with them?" Marty asked.
"I got involved in reading this journal," Clara said. "Emmett and the boys grew rather impatient with me and left on their own." She stopped reading long enough to check her watch, and then resumed leafing through the pages. "They have been gone for quite some time. Perhaps you could go find them, Marty."
It was more of a statement than a question and Marty knew what Clara was hinting at. She wanted the feuding to stop. Marty left promptly and made his way down the designated trail. He personally didn't see what was so great about it, just a lot of trees and other foliage. He walked swiftly, not really paying attention to anything in particular until something on the ground caught his eye when the sunlight reflected off it.
Marty slowed his paced and walked over to the object and knelt down to take a closer look at it. It appeared to be some kind of a weird necklace. It looked to be an inverted cross with a weird inscription on it and Marty noticed that it looked old. He wondered how it might have gotten there and what twisted person it may have belonged to, but he didn?t have time to wonder long.
"Whatcha doin', Marty?" Verne asked from behind him.
Marty looked up to see Doc, Verne, and Jules looking at him. Marty quickly closed his hand around the pendant and stood up.
"I just found something, that's all," he replied. "By the way, Doc, Clara's getting concerned about you guys."
"We were heading back there anyway," Doc replied shortly as his attention focused on Marty's cupped hand. "What did you find?"
"Oh, just some old necklace," Marty said as he shoved it into his pocket and shrugged. He didn't really look at Doc. The boys could sense the tension between the two and were wise not to say a word.
"Oh," Doc replied as he and the boys resumed walking back to the house.
Marty started to follow them, but he hesitated. He really didn't want to be near Doc and his cross attitude right now. He hesitated a few moments, turned around, and walked further up the trail. He walked for about twenty more minutes when he got that unnerving sensation that he was being watched again. He stopped walking and scanned the area around him, but didn't see a thing. Marty took a deep breath to attempt to settle his frazzled nerves. The disturbing entries in that old diary were nagging at his mind. Could it be connected to the ghost that he saw? Could this all be for real? Marty chuckled wryly to himself. "Doc would flip if this was for real. Maybe he'd have to eat his words for a change."
He resumed his walk down the trail. He was so lost in thought that he wasn't paying much attention to where he was going. His feet tripped over something hard and he almost fell on his face.
"Graceful," he muttered. He looked down to see what had made him trip. It looked like some kind of weird rock. Marty knelt down to examine the object a little closer. He turned it over and saw that the object had a face.
He was touching a human skull.
Marty gasped and backed away quickly. He got to his feet again and started running back down the trail. He wasn't going to stick around to see where the rest of this person was scattered. Marty ran the entire way back to the house not once stopping for breath. He raced through the back door of the house and crashed into Doc who was heading into the kitchen.
"Marty watch where you're going!" Doc exclaimed, sharply.
"Sorry," Marty said breathlessly.
Doc noticed the distress on his friend?s face. "What's wrong?" he asked, immediately concerned.
Marty opened his mouth to tell Doc about the skull, but abruptly closed it. "Nothing, Doc. Forget it," he muttered. He started to walk past Doc when he felt a hand on his arm. He stopped in his tracks and addressed Doc with a peeved expression.
"I'm sorry about this morning, Marty," Doc said softly. "My behavior was completely unjustified."
"Forget about it, Doc," Marty said as he quickly left for his room.
Doc started to follow Marty, but he stopped. For some reason, Marty seemed to want to be by himself. It crossed his mind that Marty hadn't really accepted his apology, but Doc knew Marty well enough to know that if Marty was truly mad at him, then he wouldn't be speaking to him at all. However, if that wasn't it, then what had happened? His mind raced back to Marty's apparent state as he ran through the back door. He seemed to be greatly frightened by something. Marty had almost told him, but for some reason he had decided not to. It must have been bad, for Marty was not one to scare easily.
Doc decided to let his snack wait. He suddenly didn't feel hungry.
Marty entered his room and sat down on his bed. He was still a little shaky from his encounter so he took a couple of deep breaths to try to compose himself. He grabbed his Walkman, thinking that maybe a little music would soothe his nerves. He no sooner had placed the headphones over his ears when he heard the distinct sound of a scream. The room instantly became chilly and Marty could see his breath. A figure started to materialize in front of him. It didn't look like much of anything at first, but it quickly took on more of a shape. In a matter of seconds, the figure had materialized into a human form, albeit a bit translucent. It looked to be a young man, maybe a few years younger than himself. Marty stared at the specter before him. It was the thing he saw earlier in the room. Doc had dismissed the same thing as a hallucination.
?Can?t be,? Marty whispered.
The haunt grinned wickedly at Marty. The evil expression sent shivers down Marty?s spine. Marty tried to keep the fear he felt from showing, but it was no use. The being standing before him sensed it anyway.
"You should be afraid," it sneered. "I have you and there is not one thing you can do about it."
On that note, the spirit disappeared leaving Marty alone with his thoughts. What did the spirit mean by "I have you"? It was then, that Marty remembered the strange necklace he had found on the trail. He took it out of his pocket and took a closer look at it. He again noticed the inscription engraved in tiny letters, but it was in an unfamiliar language. As he pondered the significance of this object yet again, he heard a faint laughter filter through the room.
"You have my amulet and I have you," someone whispered in a twisted singsong voice.
Marty gasped and the amulet fell from his fingers to the floor. "Maleficus veri mors mortalis transeis." the voice whispered. The amulet then levitated from the floor and drifted toward where Marty was sitting, finally coming to rest in his lap. Marty was too shocked to do much more than stare at the object, which was emanating a pale blue light. When Marty tried to touch it, he received a jolt that he could only liken to the sensation of an electrical shock. His vision blurred and his thoughts became muddled. The strange words the voice had uttered echoed through a mind that didn't feel like his anymore and he could feel his lips speaking the words of their own accord.
"Maleficus veri mors mortalis transeis," he whispered. "True evil transcends death."
A sharp knock on his door brought Marty back to reality. Instantly, he felt as if he was back in his own body and that he was once again in control of it. He didn't know what had just happened, but he was certain that he never wanted to repeat the experience. The incident left him chilled to the core from fright.
There was another knock at his door. "Can I come in?" Doc asked.
"Great," Marty muttered to himself, "The last person who would understand." He turned his Walkman on and lay down with his back to the door, hoping that Doc would take the silence as a hint.
However, Doc wasn't going away that easily. Marty could hear his door open and the sound of footsteps approach the bed. He closed his eyes and wished that Doc would go away. Unfortunately, he didn't get his wish.
"Are you okay?" Dc inquired.
"Never better," Marty muttered.
Doc wasn?t buying it. "Are you certain of that" Doc asked.
"Look, Doc, I'm fine. Now if you don't mind it was a long trip and I'm still a little tired," Marty said.
"Marty, if this is about this morning, I've already apologized," Doc stated.
"And I forgave you for it," Marty said. "Is this conversation over now?"
Doc sighed in exasperation at the futility of the conversation. It was beyond obvious that Marty hadn't forgiven him, but there was no use in trying to drag anything out of him before he was ready. As Doc turned to leave, he could have sworn he had heard Marty whisper the words, Maleficus veri mors mortalis transeis. Doc stopped dead in his tracks.
"What did you say?" he asked his friend.
"What are you talking about?" Marty asked irritably. "I didn't say a damned thing."
"I just heard your voice and unless I'm mistaken you just muttered something in Latin," Doc said.
Marty turned to look at him with a look of clear contempt. "Doc, what's with you? I wouldn't know the first thing about Latin."
"Marty, I-" Doc began.
"Stop it!" Marty shouted. He took a deep breath and brought himself more or less under control. "You have been on my case since we left Hill Valley. Why did you bother inviting me along in the first place? You've made clear that you don't want me along.?
"Actually, Marty, I was just starting to ask myself that very same question," Doc said coldly as he left the room.
As angry as Marty had just been at his friend, he couldn't help but feel wounded at Doc's parting remark. "Some vacation," he thought ruefully. Suddenly, his problems in Hill Valley didn?t look so bad.
Marty and Doc spent the next couple of days mutually avoiding each other. Doc spent much of the time with his sons and his wife, while Marty found ways to amuse himself. Clara had never seen the two like this and she couldn't stand it. She had tried talking to her husband only to have Doc tell her that this thing didn't involve her, otherwise known as "Emmett is too steamed to discuss matters with anyone!" Frustrated with the situation, Clara sought out Marty for some resolve.
Marty was being just as stubborn about the matter. ?Clara, there?s no use saying anything to him. He has said that he regrets asking me to come on this trip. Let?s just leave it at that.?
Clara and Marty had been having this discussion over Marty?s late breakfast and Marty was not at all thrilled at the twenty-question treatment first thing in the morning. Clara wasn?t going to let this go without a fight.
"What made you two quarrel in the first place?" Clara inquired.
Marty hesitated with his answer. How was he supposed to explain to Clara what he had been seeing and hearing in that attic since he had arrived at that house? She was too levelheaded to believe something so ridiculous. Clara looked intently at him, fully expecting an answer. Fortunately, he was saved from the task by two pairs of feet running into the room. It was Jules and Verne who had an argument for Clara to settle. Marty took the opportunity to make a hasty retreat. Clara sighed at his retreating form and vowed that she would do her best to get Doc and Marty to make up before they returned to Hill Valley.
Marty resolved to take a walk, not caring about his destination. Like the two days before, all he cared about was escaping the tension in that house. Getting away from his ghost was an added reward. He had tried hard not to spend too much time in the house if it was possible, thus knocking down his ghostly visits to a mere handful. Still, that handful was enough to last him for more than a lifetime.
He headed to the first trail that caught his eye and walked along its windy path while he attempted to clear his head. He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't even notice Doc and Einstein until he crashed right into them. No words were exchanged between Doc and Marty. Doc was wearing a look that threw any hope of conversation straight out the window. The only noise, besides the sound of nature around them, was the menacing growl coming from Einstein.
Marty backed away several paces and gave the dog some space. Einstein had been acting that way for the last couple of days and Marty wondered if Doc had trained the dog to despise him. Marty couldn't think of any other explanation as to why Einstein suddenly wouldn't go two feet near him without growling.
Doc averted his gaze past Marty and attempted to walk by the young man with the dog in tow. Unfortunately, Einstein had other plans. As Doc grew closer to Marty, Einstein let out another angry growl and when Marty was within arms reach, the dog lunged for him. Marty was caught completely off guard as the dog pinned Marty to the ground barking and growling threateningly.
"Doc, get him off me!" Marty yelled, breaking the silent treatment.
"Einstein, come here!" Doc commanded. Doc was just as confused as Marty about Einstein's behavior. It took all his strength to pry the dog off his friend. When the dog was back under his control, he shortened the leash so it wouldn't happen again.
Marty stood up, shakily and regarded the two with an uneasy look. He then bolted past Doc and Einstein and ran down the trail. Einstein tried to go after him, but Doc held him back.
"Heel!" he ordered as he yanked on the leash. The dog obeyed, but Doc could hear a low growl escape from Einstein's throat. Uneasy himself, he walked the dog back to the house.
Marty ran until the stitch in his side forced him to stop. In his haste, he didn't even realize that he wasn't on the trail anymore. The path was congested with vegetation and it gave the appearance that no one had come this way in a long time. As Marty looked around, it became clear to him that he didn't know where he was.
"Great," Marty muttered. "This is all I need." He wandered around, trying to find some kind of marker or something that could point him back in the right direction. With his eyes focused on the scenery around him, there was no way for him to watch where his feet were going. He tripped over something hard and fell flat on his face.
"What the hell was that?" he inquired aloud as he sat up. Lying several feet away, half hidden in the forest brush was what seemed to be a large white rock. Marty leaned over and attempted to move the object out of the way. When he pried it out of the ground and examined it closer, he realized with horror that it wasn?t a rock at all but a human skull.
It was the creepiest déjà vu that Marty had ever experienced and Marty was caught too off guard to scream. The skull fell from his hands as he quickly stood up and backed away. As he stood there and pondered all the possible scenarios as to why there would be a piece of human anatomy on the trail yet again, he felt someone tap him on his shoulder and he nearly fainted right there. He spun turned around expecting to see Doc or maybe Clara, but instead he found himself face to face with his resident ghost. Marty's breath caught in his throat as he backed away several paces and nearly tripped over the skull again. The haunt seemed to enjoy Marty's reaction almost feeding on the fright he was causing for he grew less translucent with each passing second.
"I see you found my hiding place," the haunt taunted. "They were my first victims. I believe you have already been enlightened as to their identities."
Marty gulped and his face paled several shades, but couldn't find his voice to reply. He looked down at the remains at his feet. He heard the ghostly laughter beside him and looked back at the haunt.
"First victims?" he whispered, not trusting his voice.
"But not the last," the haunt replied as he looked intently at Marty. "Certainly, not the last."
Marty was too shaken to reply and the haunt laughed again. "There has always been someone who has made themselves open to my presence. Whether they know it or no, they have summoned me. Not one person has lived to tell about it. Not one." The last words were voiced more as a promise than an idle threat. Marty stood frozen to his spot as the figure disappeared. As he attempted to digest what he had just heard, he felt another small tap on his shoulder. Marty spun around, more than merely startled to see Doc standing beside him.
"I brought Einstein back to the house and I was wondering how you were doing," Doc stated. He studied the young man's appearance with concern. Marty was breathing rapidly and his face was ashen in color. His blue eyes were wide with fright as he looked back at Doc. Doc wanted to believe that Marty?s reaction was brought on by the earlier incident with Einstein. However, Doc also knew that reasoning was rather naive.
"Marty, what happened?" Doc asked as he placed his hand on Marty's shoulder.
Marty opened his mouth to speak, but no words came. Instead, he dropped in a dead faint.
Marty found himself standing in a dark void. There was nothing but darkness surrounding him. Marty could hear the laughter of his ghost echo through the blackness and in his mind. The sound made him cringe and he covered his ears to block out the sound, but it was to no avail. The sound was penetrating the very fiber of his soul.
Suddenly, the void dissipated and it was replaced with the interior of the house. As Marty looked around, however, he realized that quite a few things were different. The rooms were furnished in an antiquated style. There was a piano in the living room that he was certain had not been there before. Marty walked up to the attic to see what had changed up there.
He opened the door to find that his bed and dresser were gone. There were a couple of trunks and various other items strewn about and Marty could see a figure kneeling in the center of the room. He could hear the person mutter something, but he couldn't make out what it was.
A burly man rushed into the room at that moment, narrowly missing Marty by an inch. In fact, he didn't even seem to notice anyone except the person in the center of the room. The large man picked up the other person by the neck and stood him up to face him. It was then that Marty realized who the kneeling figure was. It was the young man who was haunting him.
"So, here you are!" the larger man shouted. "I might have known you would be practicing your black magic again you unholy trash!" he hurled the young man against the wall where Marty was standing causing Marty to jump.
?I do not fear you,? the young man hissed. "You shall soon have your comeuppance for how you've treated me!"
"Be silent!" the large man commanded as he slapped the younger man. "Get on your knees and pray to God for your soul!"
The younger man did not budge from his spot and that earned him another slap from the larger man. ?Now!? the man bellowed.
The younger man still did not obey. The large man grew infuriated and took a key out of his pocket. He walked over to the door and twisted the key in the lock. ?Maybe a couple of days without food might change your mind,? the large man growled and he walked out of the attic, locking the door behind him.
The younger man stood up next to Marty, and glared at the locked door. "No, Father, it is you who should pray for your damned soul," he muttered. The man then turned to face Marty and an evil sneer appeared on his face.
"Just as you should pray for yours," the young man said.
It was then that Marty woke up. A quick glance at his surroundings told him that he was in the living room. He tried to sit up, but his head was still spinning, so he decided not to push it. As he settled back under the blanket, he felt a hand on his shoulder. He gasped and whipped his head around to see Clara standing over him. The motion caused his dizziness to worsen and he momentarily had to squint his eyes shut.
"I'm sorry," Clara said as she sat on the edge of the couch. "I just came in to check up on you. How are you feeling?"
"Dizzy," Marty replied as he opened his eyes partially. When he was satisfied that the room was no longer spinning, he opened them the rest of the way. "What happened?"
"Emmett said that you fainted," Clara replied. "He was pretty worried about you and he wanted to stay with you until you awoke, but I told him to get some sleep."
"How long was I out?" Marty asked in a weak voice.
"You were asleep for about eleven hours," Clara said. She eyed him critically from where she stood. "From what I can see, I don't think that another eleven hours of rest could hurt."
"You're telling me," Marty replied miserably. "I feel like I got hit by an eighteen-wheeler."
Clara frowned at the comment. "I'll give Emmett the message. He might want to take you to a doctor."
"You don't have to give me any message, Clara," Doc said as he entered the room.
"Emmett, I thought you were sleeping," Clara said.
"I tried," Doc said. "I was too keyed up. Listen, I need to talk to Marty alone for a minute."
"All right, but keep it brief, Emmett," Clara admonished. "Both of you need your rest." She left the room.
Doc took a seat on the edge of the couch where his wife had just been sitting. Marty was certain that he was in for another of Doc?s already infamous "there are no ghosts" lectures. He wasn't prepared for what Doc told him.
"I may have been mistaken, Marty," Doc said softly.
Marty, once again, didn't trust his ears. "What?" he asked.
"I said, I may have been mistaken," Doc repeated. "I called the fellow that rents this house and I was able to get quite a colorful story about this place. Now mind you that I'm not one hundred percent convinced, but I'm not as skeptical either."
Marty was not impressed. "You didn't believe me, but you would believe a virtual stranger. Thanks, Doc. That means a lot."
Doc tried to ignore the sarcasm. "I was hoping that you may be able to assist me in locating some information about the house," he said. "There is a library in town that may prove useful."
Marty regarded Doc with a cold glare. "You can find your information yourself, Doc," he said. "Leave me out of it." With that, Marty turned on his side so that his face was conveniently buried in the couch's cushion.
Doc took the hint and left his friend alone. Marty listened as the sound of Doc's footsteps receded and looked up from the cushion. However, peace wouldn't be with him as Clara was standing over him with her arms folded in front of her and a cross look on her face.
"You are going tomorrow, young man," she said tersely.
"No offense, Clara, but this really isn't any of your business. Besides, I already have a mother at home," he said, the latter dripping in sarcasm.
Clara had reached the end of her fuse. "This petty argument between you and my husband has become my business, Martin," she said through clenched teeth. "Now, I am not trying to act like your mother, but you and Emmett will reconcile your differences come Hell or high water! Tomorrow morning, you will accompany Emmett to wherever he needs to go. Do I make myself clear?"
Marty could only stare at Clara in response to her outburst. She had never spoken to him in that manner. In fact, Marty had never really seen her lose her temper. "Yeah, sure. Whatever," he said softly upon finding his voice.
Clara sized him up with a stern glare before heading up the stairs to tell Doc. Marty could hear her muttering the whole time. "I will make them coexist peacefully or I will die trying!"
Marty sighed in defeat. He knew she meant every word of it. Feeling too tense to go back to sleep, Marty got up and went in search of something to occupy himself with for the night ahead of him. His eyes came to rest on the journal that Clara had been reading two days before. "Why not," Marty decided. "I won't be able to sleep anyway." He took the book back to his "bed" and started reading. He had been reading for some time when his eyelids grew heavy again and he was lulled off to sleep.
Doc woke Marty early the next morning and after a quick assessment of Marty's condition, they were on their way to town. The ride into town was a quiet one with Marty staring out the passenger-side window the whole time. After what seemed like forever, they reached the library.
It wasn't a large structure by any means and Doc hoped that the building's size didn't interfere with what they were looking for. Marty wasted no time in getting out of the car and going inside. Doc followed suit, equally eager to get this task over with.
The two were led to the basement where the old newspapers and documents were kept. There didn't seem to be any structure in the way the items were organized so Doc told Marty to start on one side of the small room and he would take the other.
They searched in silence for over an hour. The silent treatment that Marty was doling out was starting to wear on Doc?s nerves. Finally, he felt he should say something to his friend.
"Marty, what is wrong with you? You wanted me to believe your story and now you're mad at me for believing you."
Marty looked over at him with a peculiar expression. "No, Doc, you didn't believe me. You didn't believe any of what I told you, but you believed a complete stranger in a heartbeat. How do you think that makes me feel, Doc? Did you think about that?"
Doc had to admit that, no, he hadn't thought about that at all. He felt a twinge of guilt as he looked at his friend.
"It was nothing personal against you, Marty," Doc said. "I am sorry that you took it that way."
The expression on Marty's face didn't change. "Oh, I?m sorry was I supposed to buy that?"
Doc tried his best not to snap back a nasty retort to Marty. "Stop being so juvenile!" he admonished. "I have apologized. What more do you want?"
Marty didn't respond, but he went back to leafing through the newspapers and documents. Doc figured that he should change the subject.
"Clara let it slip about Jennifer," Doc said. He noticed that Marty's body stiffened at the mention of his girlfriend's name. "Is there anything that you want to talk about?"
Marty favored him with a glare. "What's going on between me and Jennifer is none of your damned business!" he hissed. "Anyway, what makes you think that I would want to talk to you now?"
Those last words wounded Doc and it showed. Marty looked at Doc with a measure of satisfaction.
"How does it feel, Doc?" Marty asked.
It was Doc's turn to be silent as he leafed through the papers. Their work resumed in silence with Marty and Doc not so much as glancing at each other. Suddenly, Doc heard Marty emit a sharp gasp. The sound was so loud in the quiet room that it startled Doc and he dropped the papers he was holding on the floor.
"Marty, what's wrong?" he asked as he rushed over to where Marty was sitting.
Marty's color had paled dramatically as he looked at the newspaper. The dread knot in Doc's stomach returned as he took the newspaper from Marty's outstretched hand. What he saw made his blood run cold.
The paper was dated Monday, March 15, 1886. There was no specific mention of where the murders had taken place, but Doc had a sudden bad feeling that he knew anyway. The more he read of the article and the details that it described, the more certain he was of that fact.
"That's what we were looking for, isn't it?" Marty asked softly.
"Partly," Doc replied. "We need to find more to back this up. I want to know exactly what we are dealing with. Maybe we should start questioning people now, Marty. I think we've found what we needed here."
The questioning also proved more difficult than originally thought. It was obvious that these people knew what was going on. However, it was even clearer that they didn't want to talk about it, at least not with a couple of complete strangers.
"Well, Doc, now what do you suggest?" Marty asked, discouraged as their last attempt at a story failed. "I don't think we're going to get anything from these people. They don't even want to look at us, much less talk to us."
"They're scared, Marty," Doc responded. "They don't know what to do so they turn their backs to the problem."
"But what are we going to do?" Marty asked again.
"I honestly don't know short of packing up and going back to Hill Valley," Doc replied.?
"Sounds good to me, Doc," Marty said as they climbed into the car and closed their doors.
"It doesn't sound good to me," Doc said as he put the keys in the ignition. "I don't know what I'm going to say to Jules and Verne when they ask me why we're heading home so early."
"Tell them the truth," Marty replied.
Just then, Marty was startled out of his thought by a rapping on the passenger side door. Marty turned around to see a creepy looking, elderly man standing next to the car. Marty rolled down his window to talk to the gentleman.
"May we help you, sir?" Marty asked.
"No, but I can help you," said the old man. "I heard you were asking about the Douquette murders."
The man had Marty's attention now. "Yeah?" Marty asked, though somewhat suspicious. "We didn't have much luck getting a story, though."
"I figured as much," the old man said bitterly. "No one here likes to talk about it. They figure it's best to sweep it under the carpet. Never mind all the poor people who have perished because of that damned ghost or his damned curse!"
"Why are you so willing to help us?" Marty asked.
The elderly man looked Marty right in the eyes. "That ghost is the spirit of my great-uncle, Gabriel Douquette."
Marty paled at the revelation. Talk about it being a small world.
"If you folks would give me a lift, I'll tell you anything you want to know," the old man said.
"We don?t mind, Mr. Douquette," Doc replied.
"The name's William," the old man replied as he readily climbed into the back seat. "There ain't no need for any formal crap." The old man closed the door and settled into the seat for the ride.
?I?m Doctor Brown and this is my friend, Marty,? Doc said as he gestured to the teenager. Marty turned around in his seat to acknowledge the elderly man, though something about this person was making him a bit uneasy. He turned back toward the front and stared out the window.
"Tell me, how is it you folks know about the ghost?" William asked. "I'm only askin', 'cause you don't look like you?re from around here."
"My wife and I rented an old house here in town for a couple of weeks," Doc replied. "Shortly after we arrived, strange things started to occur."
"So tell me," the old man said from his place in the back seat. "How did you folks get into this mess with my great-uncle's ghost?"
"We showed up," Marty said wryly. "Then all hell broke loose."
"What I meant, son, is did anyone do anything to provoke him?" William asked as he leaned forward.
"Not that I know of, William." Doc answered. "It just sort of happened."
"I'm not surprised," William replied. "Uncle Gabriel likes to stake out his victims sometimes. He likes to pick already vulnerable people whose guards are down.
Doc frowned as he kept his eyes on the road, but said nothing in return. Somehow, he could not quite picture Marty as a "vulnerable" person. Though, there is that situation with Jennifer, Doc thought to himself. If there were problems in their relationship, then Marty's emotional well-being might very well be compromised.
They reached William's house about ten minutes later. It was a ramshackle little hut that clearly screamed "A hermit lives here!" They got out of the car and Marty and Doc followed the old man inside.
"Do you live alone?" Doc inquired as they stepped inside.
"A hermit 'til the end," William replied. "The Douquette name ain't exactly popular 'round these parts. Let's have a seat and we'll get to the bottom of this problem of yours."
William sat down in an old, overstuffed chair while Marty and Doc both sat on the worn-out couch. Marty spoke first.
"William, you said something earlier about other people being affected by a "curse". Who were they? What happened to them?"
"I don't really remember names, but they were vacationers like yourselves. We don't get many vacationers that stay too long on that property, but there were several brave souls that tried and lived to regret it if they were lucky," William replied.
Marty swallowed hard, a strong feeling of worry and dread washing over him. "But what happened to them?" he repeated.
"Some took ill and later died. The rest lost their minds. At least that?s what I've heard over the years. I remember hearing about one young man who murdered his entire family by putting rat poison in the food. Then he took his daddy's rifle and shot multiple rounds in the bodies before turning the rifle on himself," William studied Marty for a moment. "In fact, I believe he was about your age, Marty."
"Comforting," Marty replied sarcastically.
"He likes to pick people at random. Usually the ones who find his amulet," William said.
"Is there any particular reason for that?" Doc asked.
"Does there have to be?" William asked back. He glanced at Marty who was looking visibly shaken. "Is your friend okay?"
Doc turned to look at Marty and decided that he was looking anything but okay. "Marty," he said as he placed his hand on Marty's shoulder. "What is it?"
Marty looked at William. "What kind of amulet was it?" he asked, dreading the answer.
"It was a silver upside-down cross," William replied. "At least that was what I always heard."
"I'm sorry I asked," Marty said softly.
Doc frowned and turned his attention back to William. "I apologize. It's been a rough few days for both of us."
"What has happened to you in that house?" William asked as he narrowed his eyes in scrutiny.
Marty told William everything that had happened to him since arriving at the house. William's face grew graver by the second making Marty feel more uncomfortable if that was possible. When Doc finished his story William had only one thing to say.
"You must leave that house," William said.
"He?s right, Doc," Marty whispered. "We should just go home."
"Well, thank you for your help, William," Doc said as he and Marty stood up to leave. "We should be heading back to the house, now."
"You'd be better off, all of you, if you pack up and go home," William said in that same grave tone of voice.
Those words echoed in Doc's mind as he drove back to the house. Marty was silently staring out his window. He couldn't stop thinking about what William had said about the other victims. Could that happen to him? Marty had a sinking feeling that it could. He felt something touch his shoulder and it shook him out of his thoughts.
"I guess that answers my question," Doc said.
"Sorry, Doc," Marty replied, his voice contrite as he averted his gaze from the passenger-side window. "My mind was somewhere else."
"I wish I could tell you not to worry, but then I suppose I would be a hypocrite," Doc said as he drove.
"I just don't want to end up like the others," Marty said softly. "I couldn't live with myself if I ever did anything to you or your family."
Doc sighed. "Nothing is going to happen," he said matter-of-factly.
Marty didn't respond, but turned the car's radio on instead. He needed some music right now. He turned the dial until he found a station that would come in relatively clear and he found a rock station playing a song by the group "Heart". Marty groaned, almost painfully and slumped back in his seat.
"Marty, are you okay?" Doc asked, concerned. "Are you feeling sick again?"
"No, Doc, I'm just a little sick of this song," Marty replied dully.
Doc opened his mouth to tell Marty that if he was that disgusted with the song to turn the radio off when a thought occurred to him. Maybe this had something to do with Jennifer and if so, then maybe Doc could get his friend to open up about it.
"Is there any particular reason why this song upsets you so much?" Doc hedged.
Marty didn't reply right away. Doc decided to rephrase the question. "Do you want to talk about what's going on between you and Jennifer? You don't need that additional burden on top of everything else."
Marty considered the idea and finally relented. The whole story came pouring out of him and when he was done it felt like a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders.
"Don't lose hope, Marty," Doc said reassuringly. "Perhaps you two just needed some time apart. That happens in relationships, you know."
Marty only looked half convinced. "Maybe," he said uncertainly. "I hope so."
They arrived at the house, then. Marty and Doc got out of the car and as they reached the front door, Marty suddenly doubled over as if he were in pain.
"Marty, what is it?" Doc asked anxiously.
Just as quickly as the spell appeared, it dissipated and Marty stood upright as though nothing had happened. He looked Doc in the eye with a look that Doc could only describe as cold and calculating.
"Marty isn't here anymore," the teenager replied.
Doc stared at Marty for a long moment. "What?" he asked incredulously.
Marty said nothing in response, but an almost evil smile spread across his face. Doc could feel chills course up and down his spine and William Douquette's words came back to him. He grabbed Marty by the shoulders and shook him. "Snap out of it!" he said.
The smile disappeared from Marty's face and he blinked several times. "Hey, Doc, stop it!" he said as he wriggled out of Doc's grip. "What the hell is with you?"
"I was going to ask you that very question, Marty," Doc said as he eyed the young man apprehensively. "What did you mean by that remark you just made?"
Marty looked at his friend with a confused expression. "I don't know what you're talking about," he replied.
"You just said that you weren't here anymore," Doc insisted. "I want to know what you meant by it."
"Doc, don't start this shit again," Marty said. "I didn't say anything of the sort."
"Marty, I heard you-" Doc began.
"Shut up!" Marty shouted.
Marty felt a stinging pain on his face just then and it took him a moment to realize that Doc had slapped him. Marty was so stunned that he could only stare at Doc as he held his hand to his cheek.
"I don't know what has gotten into you, Marty!" Doc said angrily. "I have tried to help you with this thing and all you have given me for it is a bunch of shit."
The front door opening interrupted the argument as Clara stuck her head outside to see what the commotion was. "What on earth is going on out here?" she asked softly, her voice full of concern.
"Ask your husband," Marty replied bitterly as he brushed past Clara. Clara watched as Marty ran up the stairs, then turned her attention back outside.
"What was that all about?"
"It's a long story, Clara," Doc replied wearily as he stepped inside. "Where are the boys?"
"They?re outside," Clara said.
"That's just as well," Doc replied. "There are some details to this story that they shouldn't hear."
"Why is that?" Clara asked as her concern turned to fear. "What did the two of you find?"
Doc led his wife to the living room where he proceeded to relate the details of the day to her. Clara gasped at some of the more horrific elements of the story. When Doc finished, he ran his hand through his white hair in exasperation.
"I confess that I don?t know what to believe anymore," he said. "This goes against any degree of logic that I've ever known."
"I don't think we have any choice but to believe this, Emmett," Clara said quietly. "However, your story still doesn't explain why Marty was so upset a while ago."
"This is weirder still," Doc replied. He told Clara what had happened when they arrived back at the house.
"That is strange," Clara commented. "I wonder what could have brought that on."
"I got a good look at his eyes. They looked vacant," Doc recollected as he shivered. "I have never seen him like that before."
Clara shared her husband?s concern. "Maybe that man was right, Emmett. Perhaps we should just go home."
"Perhaps," Doc said.
Meanwhile, during this discussion, Marty lay on his bed and reflected on the events of the day. Just when he thought that Doc really believed his claim, his friend seemed to revert to his former attitude. Again, came the claim that Marty was saying things that the young man clearly did not remember saying. The memory made Marty's blood boil and at the same time, he felt hurt at Doc's words. He had never given Doc a reason to doubt him, so why did Doc insist on giving him grief over this.
Moreover, what was that slap about? He had never known Doc to strike anyone. He remembered Doc telling him once that violence didn't solve half as much as words ever could.
"Great time to change your philosophy, Doc," Marty thought ruefully as the beginning of a lump formed in his throat.
Marty let out a weary sigh and grabbed his Walkman, which was next to his pillow. He was placing the headphones on his head when he heard the maniacal laughter again. Marty nearly dropped the Walkman as his body tensed up. He quickly looked around the room expecting to see the ghost, but he saw nothing out of the ordinary.
"Jeez, McFly, this thing is making you paranoid," he whispered to himself.
The laughter started up again and Marty became more nervous. He kept looking around as if he expected the ghost to just pop out and attack him. However, nothing happened. Marty was tired of the ghost's game.
"Where are you, asshole?" he said, trying to sound unafraid.
His question was answered with silence. Marty shrugged and turned his Walkman on. All of a sudden, something grabbed the wires and wrapped them around his neck. Marty grabbed at the wires to loosen them, but whatever had them was too strong. Nevertheless, the grip was too tight for the wires to support and after what seemed like an eternity they finally broke from the strain.
Marty sat on the bed choking and gasping for breath. He surveyed the entire room, but he couldn't see any sign of anything that shouldn't be there. Frightened, he started for his door. As his fingers brushed against the doorknob, he heard a click. He desperately jiggled the knob, but he couldn't get out. Something had locked him inside the attic. He raised his arms in an attempt to make some noise and get Doc or Clara to let him out, when he felt an icy hands grab onto them. He almost screamed and he spun around to find the haunt standing there next to him.
"You can run away, but you will never escape me," the thing sneered. "I have your soul at my will. Who do you think your friend was really talking to outside?"
Marty didn't reply as the being grinned wickedly. "Yes, I could merely kill you and put you out of your misery. However, it isn't every day that I get someone like you to torture."
Marty swore to himself that if this person had not already been dead, then he would have seriously decked him for his arrogance. "What do you mean?" he asked as he tried to keep the fear from his voice.
The haunt raised a hand to the air as if beckoning to something. Marty watched as the amulet rose from the spot where he had dropped it before and floated into the spirit's outstretched hand. The haunt then mumbled something that Marty couldn't quite catch. As Marty opened his mouth to ask what was happening he was hit with the most severe pain that he had felt since almost being erased from existence. The worst of the pain was in his head. It felt like something was literally shoving him out of his body. Marty used all of his willpower to resist this force, but his attempt was futile. In a moment, it was all over and Marty found himself standing before his body. Confused, he looked down to discover that he was fully transparent and dressed in the haunt?s Victorian garb.
"What did you do?" he asked in a small voice.
"Don't worry mon ami," the haunt replied in Marty?s voice. "The spell is only temporary. It will last long enough for me to do what I need to do. They will never know what hit them." With that, the door unlocked and swung open of its own will.
Marty watched as the haunt turned his body around and walked down the stairs. Scared of what might happen to his friends, Marty tried to follow. However, he quickly found that it wasn't so easy to move as a ghost. He found himself careening around, as his ghostly body did not want to cooperate. He quickly grew anxious and frustrated as he realized that he would never be able to help Doc and his family at the rate he was going. He could only hope that Doc had enough sense to see through whatever the haunt managed to cook up until Marty was able to set the bastard straight himself.
Clara peered through the living room window as her husband disappeared into the woods. They had discussed the matter in a little more detail and had mutually decided to end their brief vacation before tensions became worse. Doc had opted to find the boys and tell them and Clara would talk to Marty. She turned away from the window, intending to walk upstairs. She gasped sharply when she found Marty standing there.
"Goodness, Marty, you startled me," Clara said as she caught her breath. "I didn't hear you come in here."
Marty didn't reply. He stood there eyeing Clara with a cold, calculating expression. Clara had never seen this look on the young man's face before and it sent chills up her spine. It was then that she noticed Marty was holding his hands behind his back. Her mind reverted to what her husband had been telling her about Marty's strange behavior. "Would Marty actually harm us?" she wondered, suddenly growing fearful.
A dark grin spread across Marty's face that did nothing to detract from the coldness of his appearance. The sadistic smile seemed to add to it. "Is something upsetting you, Clara?" he asked casually as if this were all some kind of a joke to him.
Clara was filled with the most urgent sense to get away. She edged around Marty, all the while keeping her eyes on him. Something told her that if she turned her back to him she would regret it. He turned his body in the direction she was moving so she wouldn't see just what it was he hid behind his back.
"Leaving so soon, Clara?" Marty asked as Clara backed out of the room.
"I need to ask Emmett about something," Clara said, trying to keep the fear from her voice. "It will only take a moment."
Marty's expression darkened, if that was possible. "I'm afraid that I can't let you do that, Clara," he said as moved toward the frightened woman.
Clara was still backing away when she felt something press against her back. She nearly screamed and dared to turn slightly to see what she was touching. It was just a chair. Clara started to let out a small sigh of relief when she saw the movement flash out of the corner of her eye. She managed to duck and roll out of the way before Marty's knife came down on her. She stood back up, ready to deflect another attack if needed.
"Marty, what is going on!" Clara asked frantically. "Why are you doing this?"
That evil smile returned to Marty's lips. "Oh, did I forget to mention something? I'm not Marty. You read my journal, so you must have an idea of who I am."
Clara nearly fainted. "I don't know what you're talking about, Marty," she said quickly. "Now, please put the knife down."
Marty rushed Clara and took another stab,so to speak, at her. Clara's reflexes were quick and she managed to avoid the knife once more. "Do not call me by that name!" he yelled angrily.
Clara found the front door and opened it a fraction when she was shoved, painfully to the floor. "Big mistake!" Marty?s voice hissed in her ear. "I told you not to leave." Clara put up a fierce struggle, but she couldn't shake Marty off her. Out of desperation, she let out the loudest, most blood-curdling scream that she could manage.
Doc was on his way back to the house with his sons when he heard his wife's terrified scream. He ran along the path back to the house only to find a particularly disturbing sight.
"What the hell do you think your doing?" he bellowed as he tried to pry his friend off his wife.
Marty briefly averted his attention to this newest distraction. "Don't mess with me, old man," Marty hissed as he swatted away Doc's efforts.
"I'll do more than mess with you if you?ve harmed a hair on her head!" Doc yelled as he attacked again. He finally managed to pry Marty away and slammed him up against the wall. Marty?s knife clattered to the floor upon impact. Clara stood up and scampered to the door to join her sons who were watching the scene intently.
"Clara, take the boys and get out of here!" Doc ordered.
Clara took her sons' hands in hers and was about to leave the house when the door abruptly closed. Clara let go of her sons and tried urgently to open the door. It wouldn't budge. She looked back at her husband with fear in her eyes.
"No one leaves!" Marty snarled.
"Give me a good reason why I shouldn't kill you," Doc hissed at his supposed friend.
"You don't have it in you, old man," Marty taunted. That smart remark earned him another forceful shove against the wall.
"Just try me!" Doc countered.
"You wouldn't kill your best friend, would you?" Marty asked.
"I don't know what you are anymore," Doc replied.
Marty?s sadistic grin grew tenfold as he studied Doc's angry features. "I'm afraid you won't live long enough to figure it out, old man." He broke an arm free of Doc's grasp and made a gesture with two of his fingers. Before Doc could quite sense what was happening, the knife was back in Marty's hand and it was coming for his throat. Then, suddenly, it seemed to stop dead in its tracks. A look of confusion spread across Marty's face. The knife was wrenched from his grasp by a pair of unseen hands.
Transparent Marty had finally managed to make it out of his attic bedroom, though it still felt like his limbs were made of Jell-O. It took everything he had to grab the knife from this thing that was pretending to be him. He breathed a sigh of relief as he held the lethal weapon in his translucent hands.
"What in hell!" Evil Marty screamed before Doc had him pinned again. Evil Marty's eyes glowed bright red and he mumbled something indecipherable to Doc's ear. Whatever he had tried to do apparently hadn't worked as far as Doc was able to tell from the young man's furious expression.
"I control you!" he screamed at his transparent foe. "You cannot win this!" The amulet that Evil Marty was wearing began glow a bright orange. He shoved Doc aside with newfound strength and beckoned for the knife. It levitated from Transparent Marty's grasp and floated rapidly toward Evil Marty. With one swift motion, he grabbed the weapon and had it to Doc's throat before Doc could do so much as blink.
"Marty, stop this!" Clara screamed.
"Well, I must say that you were an easy target," Evil Marty said coldly. He pressed the blade of the knife against Doc's neck. "The skeptics usually are. You were a fool, Doctor Brown. Just like all those who came before you."
"Marty-" Doc began before the increasing pressure of the blade cut him off.
"There is no "Marty" here," Evil Marty spat. "Your friend is, shall we say, indisposed. I am merely borrowing him, monsieur, for I need a physical body to carry out my dark acts."
Doc's eyes widened in realization and he could hear Clara's loud gasp. How could he not have seen it before? The person that he had presumed to be his friend looked at him with smug satisfaction.
"It is too bad that your revelation comes to late, mon ami. Don't worry about your pretty family. I will make sure that they join you soon," the young man said as he drew back his hand to deliver the fatal slice. However, he would never complete the move. Transparent Marty decided that he would resolve this situation in a more direct matter.
The amulet around Evil Marty's neck started to glow a bright crimson and he seemed unable to move or speak. His hand dropped from Doc's throat and the young man crumpled to the floor.
Doc was initially relieved that the crisis had seemed to pass, but relief quickly turned to concern when he saw Marty. Doc bent over his friend's still body and checked his vital signs. There was no indication of life in him and Doc's breath caught in his throat.
Transparent Marty finally had his opponent where he wanted him. Gabriel Douquette stood outside of his host body and regarded his opponent's soul with a hostile expression.
"You will surely die for this!" Gabriel hissed as he snapped his fingers. His amulet instantly appeared in his hand. "Now to make sure that your immortal soul and your mortal body are never reunited.
Marty still had one trick up his sleeve. He closed his eyes and concentrated on Gabriel's amulet. Marty felt a weight in his hand and he opened his eyes to see the amulet there. Gabriel looked back at his former victim with certain trepidation.
"You won?t win this," Marty said as he held the amulet up. The device began to glow a pale blue as Marty started a chant.
"That was amusing, mortal," Gabriel laughed. "I dare say that is nothing but a cheap parlor trick."
"I am afraid not," said a gruff voice.
Gabriel's smug expression turned to fear as he turned to find the spirit of his long-dead father standing behind him. It soon became apparent that he wasn't alone as more spirits of his victims emerged from behind the veil. They each grabbed onto him with ghostly hands. Gabriel Douquette was trapped.
"What is this?" Gabriel asked as fear tinged his voice.
"Your one-way ticket to hell, asshole," Marty said as he shone the amulet in Gabriel's direction. "Maleficus veri mortae." he said.
Gabriel Douquette's spirit could be heard screaming as the ghosts of his victims pulled him to the other side. Marty breathed a sigh of relief. It was over at last.
Doc tried everything conceivable to resuscitate some life back into Marty, but his efforts were in vain. Doc finally conceded to the inevitable.
"I can't believe that I suspected him," Clara said to her husband as she tried to hold back her tears. "I should have known that he wouldn't be capable of such a thing."
"I acted no better," Doc replied, sadly. "I should have herded you all back home before things got this far."
"What are we going to tell his family?" Clara said, her voice breaking.
Doc didn?t want to think about it. He shut his eyes as the reality of the situation really started to sink in. However, a soft moan forced his attention back to the matter at hand. He opened his eyes to see his friend stirring.
"Marty!" Doc said as Marty opened his eyes. "What happened to you? Are you all right?"
"Man," Marty said as he sat up and dazedly glanced at his friends. "Did anyone get the number of the truck that hit me?"
Doc smiled. His friend was back.
30 miles from Hill Valley, CA Saturday June 27, 1987 2:26 a.m.
It hadn't taken much convincing on Doc's part to end their sorry excuse for a vacation and return home. It was going to take a lot more convincing on his part, however, to convince his sons that it wasn't Marty doing those terrible things. An alternate seating arrangement was worked out for the return trip with Marty taking Clara's place in the front seat.
Clara and the boys had long ago drifted off to sleep, but Marty remained wide awake. He couldn't get his mind off what had happened. The thought that he could have done such awful things to his friends made him sick to his stomach. He felt something touch his shoulder and nearly jumped through the roof of the car.
"Sorry," Doc apologized as Marty calmed down. "I suspect that you'll be feeling jumpy for awhile at least. We all will."
"I'm sorry about all of this,? Marty said softly "It doesn't seem like it's enough to just be sorry, though."
"Marty, there is nothing for you to be sorry about. I realize, now, that you weren't in control of your actions. In fact, I should be apologizing to you for not listening to you in the first place," Doc chuckled, humorlessly. "I guess that science can't possibly explain everything."
"Guess not," Marty said. He sat back in his seat as something occurred to him. "Hey, Doc. Where was Einie during all of the chaos?"
"I had to shut him in my bedroom," Doc answered. "His behavior was highly unpredictable. He seems to have calmed down quite a bit, though."
"Yeah," Marty replied. He wished that all of his troubles were really, truly over. However, there was still something that needed resolution.
"Thinking about Jennifer?" Doc asked.
"Yeah," Marty said.
"Are you ready to sit down and talk to her about how you feel?" Doc asked.
"I think the question is whether or not she wants to talk to me," Marty replied.
"I wish I could tell you that you have absolutely nothing to worry about, but you know the future isn't guaranteed."
"I know," Marty replied softly. "I know that the future can change."
"If you two are honestly meant to be together, then you will find a way to work this out," Doc said.
They traveled the rest of the way home in silence. Marty fidgeted with the amulet in his hand, his souvenir from the completely nasty experience. He could have thrown the pendant away, but he decided that maybe it would come in handy someday.
"Only time will tell," he thought as he looked out his window at the darkness.
