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It was early in the morning and the sun was just beginning to rise in the sky. Doc and Marty were in the Brown family car on their way up to an old, remote house.
However, this was no leisure trip for them. Doc had received a letter that stated he had been named as the only living relative in some distant cousin's will. This relative had left Doc his house and whatever items, therein.
The news of this relative had been a considerable surprise to Doc who had no living immediate family aside from Clara and his sons. Even though he had never known this cousin, he felt strangely sad at his passing.
When Doc had brought this news to his family's attention, they had greeted him with sympathy at first. However, as soon as he had mentioned the idea of a trip to clean out the old house, he was greeted with strong opposition from Jules and Verne.
"But, Dad!" Verne had objected. "It's summer vacation! We shouldn't hafta to do work!"
"I must agree with Verne, Father," Jules had concurred. "It wouldn't be terribly enjoyable and you would be able to get the job done much faster if we weren't underfoot."
It was a shameless ploy and Doc knew it, but his son had brought up a good point. It would be a lot faster to do this without the children. Clara had thought the same thing.
"They wouldn't have fun, Emmett," she had said. "Maybe the boys and I should stay here."
That was it. Doc didn't pressure them any more on the matter. When he had mentioned the turn of events to Marty, the young man had a very different reaction.
"Would you mind if I tagged along?" he had asked.
"I guess not." the scientist had replied rather surprised at the request. "I would've thought that you would have more interesting things to do with your summer off than clean out an old house."
Marty had just shrugged his shoulders in reply to Doc's comment. Marty didn?t say it, but to be truthful, Marty really didn't have anything better to do. College wouldn?t start up again for a few more weeks and his rock band was on a brief hiatus. Besides, he could use a break from the constant fighting that he and Jennifer had been doing lately. The stress was starting to take its toll on him. Lately, they could not be in the same room for more than a few minutes without an argument of some kind breaking out. He was reluctant to talk about it with anyone, though. He didn?t want to hear that maybe he and Jennifer weren?t meant to be. Therefore, he bottled his stress up inside and secretly prayed everything would return to the way it was.
They had set out on their venture as soon as Marty had gotten permission from his parents and had gotten time off from his part-time job. Doc had made an appointment with a lawyer in Madison for that very morning to discuss the legalities of the situation. Doc checked his watch as he drove. The appointment was at 8:30 a.m. ?There is not enough time to get much sleep now.? Doc thought as he sighed wearily as he thought about this road trip from hell and the fatigue that were currently plaguing him.
They had been riding all night due to Doc taking a wrong turn somewhere just across the California/Nevada border. The small mistake had literally set them back hours and Doc had tried in vain to make up the lost time by pulling an all-nighter behind the wheel. When Marty had offered to relieve Doc for a while, Doc had replied that if Marty had been paying closer attention to the map that he had been given, and then they wouldn't be in this fix in the first place. So that had been the end of that brief discussion. Doc continued to drive while stubbornly fighting impending drowsiness. Marty had plenty of time to catch a few winks, but his nerves wouldn't let him sleep so he spent the time gazing out the passenger-side window.
Doc, while still peeved, was concerned about his friend. Not only had Marty surprised the scientist by asking to join him on this mundane excursion, but also he had seemed to be down in the dumps about something lately, anyway. Whatever it was, Marty wouldn't say and Doc wasn't comfortable with prying in his friend's personal life. ?Marty will talk when he?s ready,? Doc told himself as he drove. Still, that reasoning did little to lessen Doc?s concern. Marty wasn?t the type to keep things to himself for so long. Whatever Marty was keeping hidden from him must have been, as Marty would put it ?heavy.?
They arrived in Madison a short time later. Naturally the town was dead considering the hour, but Marty had a gut feeling that this particular town might be dead all of the time. There weren't many buildings on what he guessed was the main drag. However, due to the dim early morning light and the fact that Doc was speeding a little to get this last part of the drive over with it was hard for Marty to tell what those few buildings were.
Marty broke the tense silence. "Man, Doc," he said, "There really isn't much to Madison."
"This isn't a very populated town, Marty," Doc replied, remembering what the lawyer had told him during their phone conversation.
The drive through the booming metropolis of Madison was a short one indeed. Soon, Doc was navigating through narrow, winding dirt roads. The drive seemed to last forever in Doc's perspective and just when he was certain beyond a shadow of a doubt that he would never be leaving that car, he spotted the turnoff.
The turnoff was a long, snaking driveway that eventually led to the house. The house itself, as Marty and Doc could tell at first glance had certainly seen better days. It was old, that was obvious and in serious need of a paint job. The yard surrounding the house was in sad shape, too. The grass was in need of a good mowing and the walk that formerly led to the house was overgrown with grass and weeds.
"Maybe it looks better inside," Doc said hopefully as he parked the car and he and Marty got out.
Marty didn't reply. He helped Doc grab their stuff and bring it inside.
When Doc unlocked the front door and opened it, he was dismayed to learn that the inside of the house looked just as bad as the outside. The wallpaper was peeling and there were cobwebs draping the walls and ceiling of the front room. The furniture was covered with sheets and those sheets had a healthy layer of dust on them. Doc was suddenly very glad that he'd conceded to let the lawyer arrange a temporary reconnection of the utilities in the house. At least there was something that might make the place seem a little more habitable during their brief stay.
"How long ago did your cousin die?" Marty asked. ?It looks like nobody has lived here for years.?
Even though Doc was thinking the same thing, he didn?t comment. "Maybe we should get some rest," Doc suggested. "Maybe this won't look so bad then."
"Maybe," Marty mumbled, unconvinced as they ascended the stairs. Marty chose the room closest to the stairwell leaving Doc with the remaining room down the hall. Marty entered his room and he felt a sharp blast of cold air. He nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard a loud noise on the opposite side of the room. Marty 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 continued to drop 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 surveyed the room and noticed that it was in slightly better condition than the downstairs room. There were no cobwebs or sheets draped everywhere, but there was an ample supply of dust was and there was a strong, musty smell as if the room hadn't been aired out in quite some time. The room wasn't heavily furnished. There was only the bed and a small dresser.
Marty sighed and finished settling in. It didn't take him long to unpack his clothes and unroll his sleeping bag and he was able to try another attempt at sleep. As he lay there, he thought about his situation with Jennifer. He kept replaying the fights over and over again in his head becoming even more depressed by the second over the whole situation.
"Where did things go wrong?" he asked himself.
No answer came. Marty closed his eyes and willed himself to sleep.
"You need to get away, McFly," he thought as he drifted off.
If he could have foretold the events about to unfold, he would have never left Hill Valley.
Marty was jolted back into reality late that morning by a huge crash from somewhere in the house. The noise startled him so badly that he nearly fell out of his bed. He sat up and took a moment to get his bearings before climbing out of bed to go in search of the dreadful noise.
He had just exited his room when he heard another loud crash. "But where were the noises coming from?" Marty wondered. He slowly made his way down the hallway, but the only doors he saw were the one to the bathroom and the one to Doc's room.
He checked the bathroom first, but wasn't terribly surprised when he found absolutely nothing unusual. The next stop was Doc's room. He knocked on the door, hoping that his friend wouldn't be to irritated by this interruption of his sleep. When Marty didn't get an answer, he tried again. Still, no answer. Wondering if his friend could even hear him, Marty cautiously opened the door and peered inside. He was a little surprised to see that Doc wasn't in there. He stepped into the room and looked around. He saw nothing out of the ordinary at first, but as he inspected the room closer, he noticed there was a small door ajar on the far side of the room. Naturally, he felt he had to investigate further. He walked to the door and through to find another room on the other side. There he found Doc standing before some toppled boxes.
"What's going on?" Marty asked.
Doc nearly jumped a mile, not having heard Marty come up behind him. "I just knocked a few boxes over," he said. "I'm sorry if I woke you."
Marty shrugged off the apology. "It's nothing, Doc. I wasn't sleeping too well anyway."
Doc, who had been restacking the boxes he had overturned, regarded Marty with a concerned gaze. Marty braced himself for the twenty-question treatment, but Doc said nothing and returned his attention to the mess at hand. Marty breathed an inward sigh of relief and helped Doc with the task.
When they had finished with that, Marty took a moment to look around the attic. The room wasn't large, but it was just about stuffed with boxes and old trunks.
"Well, Doc, it looks like you've got your work cut out for you," Marty commented. "How did your meeting go this morning?"
"Everything was pretty cut and dry," Doc explained. "I just had to prove I was who I said I was and sign a few papers."
"That was it?" Marty asked. "You came all the way here for that?"
"Basically," Doc replied, quickly. "Furthermore, it was an excuse to view the house before I sold it."
"View the house my ass," Marty thought. He could tell there was more to the subject than Doc was willing to relate and thought of the things that he heard earlier that morning, but he didn?t say a word to Doc about the matter. To say anything would be to set Doc off on one of his it-can-all-be-explained-by-science lectures and Marty was in no mood to listen to it.
"What are you going to do with all this stuff?" Marty asked as he looked around. "Sell it?"
"Or at least throw it away," Doc replied. "I don't care to bring home any souvenirs. By the way, Marty, if you're hungry, I did some shopping while you were asleep."
"Actually, I am a little hungry now that you mention it," Marty said. "I guess I'll go downstairs and grab a bite."
Doc nodded in reply and turned his attention to a particular box on the pile. As Doc was emptying the contents of the box on the floor, he heard a God-awful racket. The noise seemed to be coming from the stairwell. Doc hurried out of the attic and his room down the hallway to the edge of the first stair and looked down to see an outline of a form lying midway down the stairs. Doc hurried down to find his friend trying to get his bearings.
"Marty what happened?" Doc asked frantically. "Are you all right?!"
Marty sat up. "I think I?m okay," he said softly.
"What happened?" Doc asked again. "Did you slip?"
"I think I was pushed," Marty replied.
Surprisingly, Marty only suffered a few bruises from his nasty fall as far as Doc could tell when he had checked him over. However, he had told Marty that if he were to feel anything out of the ordinary over the duration of the day, that he let Doc know immediately. Marty, who kept insisting that he really was fine, agreed just to give Doc piece of mind.
They had a short lunch break and then went back up to the attic to start the tedious chore they had set out to do. They were barely scratching the surface of the clutter by late afternoon and that coupled with Marty's insistence that his accident was no accident were starting to wear on Doc's last quarter nerve.
"I have told you, Marty," Doc said, wearily. "There is no possible way you could have been pushed down those stairs."
Marty looked up from the box he had been sifting through with an obvious frown on his face. They had been going back and forth on this issue since that morning and he was getting real sick of it himself.
"I know I felt something push me, Doc," Marty said, equally exasperated. "Why the hell can't you just take my word for it?"
Doc gave him the weirdest look. "Why would I take your word for it, Marty?" he asked. "We are the only two people in this house and I certainly didn't push you down those stairs, so who's left. A ghost? The bogeyman?" The last of Doc's patience was finally spent. "Tell me Marty. Who the hell do you think it was?"
He had expected Marty to lose his temper and vehemently counter what he had just said, but to Doc's surprise, he became quiet. He resumed sorting through the box that sat before him, purposely avoiding any eye contact with his friend.
Doc gave another weary sigh and turned his attention to his own box. He felt bad for going off on Marty like that, but at least it got that subject dropped. Doc didn't want to admit such a thing to Marty, but he had an uneasy feeling of his own about the incident that morning.
During the meeting that day, the lawyer had brought up some local folklore about the house. The gist of the story had been that the house was haunted by some malevolent spirit. Doc had come dangerously close to laughing in the man's face upon hearing that. "Hogwash, that's all," Doc had thought as he had left the lawyer's office.
Now, however, as he glanced at his friend who sat sullen across from him on the floor, he had to wonder if there could be a tiny grain of truth in the story he had heard. Marty wasn't one to make up wild tales, let alone be one who would insist that others believe them.
"How's it going, Marty?" he asked.
Marty looked up, perplexed for a moment until he realized that Doc was talking about the box. "It's full of junk just like the other ones that we've checked. I guess being a packrat must run in the family."
Doc decided to ignore the comment and commence work. They worked on the mess late into the night. It was when Doc could no longer keep his eyes open that he suggested that they get some sleep. Marty didn't seem terribly enthusiastic about the idea, which brought back that nagging concern in Doc's mind. The young man should have been about as exhausted as he was and Doc saw he at least looked the part. Doc had to restrain himself from barraging Marty with questions, though. He knew that would just make Marty more silent about the matter.
A little while later, Marty was lying in his bed willing himself to sleep, but not having any luck. His mind was too unsettled. He thought that leaving home for a while would help him forget his troubles and give his sanity the much needed break he thought it had deserved. However, it was still as persistent in his mind that day as it had been for the last several weeks. He wished he could just work things out with his girlfriend, but she didn't seem to want a single solitary thing to do with him. When he had tried calling her, she hung up. When he had tried expressing his feelings in a letter, she had sent the shredded remains of the letter back to him. At this point, both his relationship with his girlfriend and the chance of getting some sleep seemed hopeless in Marty's eyes. He rolled over on his side and squinched his eyes shut. He would make himself sleep if it were the last thing he did.
Meanwhile, Doc was having the same luck as his friend in the sleep department. As tired as he was for after not having gotten any sleep for a couple of days, his concern about Marty was keeping him awake. It wasn't just the fact that Marty wouldn't confide in him, the accident in the attic that morning wouldn't leave him alone. His analytical frame of mind struggled with the concept that maybe Marty had been pushed and at the same time, Doc scolded himself for being full of shit. Ghosts don't exist. Period. Maybe Marty's fatigue skewed his perception of what happened, though Doc knew that reasoning was full of shit as well.
Somehow, Marty had finally drifted off in a light sleep after a couple hours of trying. It didn't last as he felt his surroundings become chilled once more. He grunted in frustration and pulled his sleeping bag around himself as tightly as he physically could, but the chill cut through to his bones. He threw off his sleeping bag and got up to close the window that he had opened earlier.
The window, though, was already closed.
Marty stared at in confusion. He clearly remembered opening the thing before going to bed, because he couldn't stand the musty air anymore. Had Doc come in and closed it? Marty didn't think so. He thought he would have heard someone come in. He opened the window again and noticed the chilly air inside the room was in stark contrast to the warm, muggy air inside.
"Funny," he mumbled as he climbed back into his bed. As soon as he zipped up his sleeping bag he was nearly scared out of his skin by a loud bang. He looked at the direction that the noise had come from and discovered that his window was closed again. Marty started feeling chills up and down his spine. First, the strange noises. Then, the fall down the stairs. Now, this. Marty started to get a bad feeling about this place that he didn't believe was mere paranoia.
"McFly, what's wrong with you?" he said to himself. "Old windows never stay open by themselves. Don't be stupid."
He got out of his bed yet again and made a third attempt to open that window. This time he opened it halfway and he felt what he perceived to be two icy hands bear down on his own until the window was closed.
Marty let go of the window and backed away quickly. Now he was certain that he wasn't merely being paranoid. As he stood there and stared at the window it inexplicably opened by itself and closed again so abruptly that the glass pane shattered.
Doc was immediately awakened from his own disturbed slumber by the ruckus in Marty's room. Startled, he quickly hopped out of his bed and went in search of what happened. When he exited his own room, he saw Marty bolt out of his.
"What the hell was that?" Doc asked.
Marty turned to Doc his eyes wide and his face pale. "Something broke the window."
Doc favored Marty with a peculiar expression and went inside the room to check things out. Indeed, the moonlight coming in through the now busted window revealed glass shards of every size littering the floor. Doc turned around to find Marty hovering in the doorway, that same expression on his face.
"How did this happen?" Doc asked.
"I'm not quite sure, Doc," Marty replied softly. "I was trying to open the window and I felt these two icy, cold hands over mine-"
"Stop it, Marty!" Doc snapped cutting Marty off. "Don't tell me the bogeyman did it!"
Marty's response to that was a rather wounded expression that flashed momentarily before morphing into anger. "I know what I felt, Doc." he said in a voice resembling a hiss. "I felt those same hands on mine closing this window as the hands that pushed me down the stairs!"
"Enough, Marty, I don't want to hear any more!" Doc snapped again. "It's late and I don't have the patience to listen to this nonsense!" With that, Doc pushed past Marty and headed back to his own room.
With a heavy sigh, Marty went several paces into his room to survey the mess he'd be cleaning up. He knelt down near the mess to pick up the larger shards of glass. As he reached out his hand to pick up the first piece, the shards seemed to take on a life of their own and shift in position at once. Marty thought at first, the fatigue and the moonlight were playing tricks with his mind.
"What the hell-? he began.
Before he could finish that thought, the glass fragments levitated off the floor and almost faster than Marty could react, they shot at him with incredible speed. Marty barely had time to roll out of the way. When he sat up he could see the larger pieces of glass embedded in the wall in the hallway and in his doorframe. He put his hand to his cheek gingerly, but he didn?t feel any cuts or blood for that matter.
Doc had just barely gotten himself settled in his bed, when that noise hit him. Peeved he got up and left his room to investigate once again.
"Marty, what's going on now?" he called from the hallway. It wasn't until he glanced at the wall opposite Marty's room that the uneasy feeling returned. Having gotten no immediate response to his question, he walked to Marty's room careful to avoid the glass that had fallen to the floor. He peered through the open doorway to see his friend sitting on his floor looking dazed.
"Are you all right?" Doc asked.
It was Marty's turn to give Doc the peculiar look. "Still think the bogeyman did it?" was all he said.
Marty half-heartedly sorted through the box before him. Physically, he was in the attic, but his mind was elsewhere. The weird accidents since he and Doc had arrived in Madison on top of his situation with Jennifer were all nagging at him. He was especially unnerved be the latest incident. It was proof to him that he couldn't just write everything off as mere freak occurrences.
Doc and Marty had both gotten an early start that morning due to neither of them getting much sleep the night before. Marty had moved himself downstairs to sleep, but the uncomfortable couch, the dust, and his rattled nerves kept him awake the rest of the night. Doc didn?t fare any better. He had finally had enough about dawn and decided that if sleep were to elude him then the time would be better spent getting something accomplished. They had grabbed a quick breakfast and gotten straight to work. Marty didn?t argue. As far as he was concerned, the sooner they left that place the better.
Doc sighed as he sifted through his own box of clutter. Marty had not said one word to him since the previous night in his room. Doc didn't suppose he could blame his friend for he had been rather harsh to him. He blamed his behavior on fatigue and nerves, but it was still no excuse to take it out on Marty.
He glanced up at his friend, briefly. Marty looked deep in thought as he worked and Doc could bet money that Marty's mind was far from his physical surroundings. It was all but confirmed a moment later.
"How's it going, Marty?" he asked.
Marty, startled out of his thoughts by Doc's voice, dropped the china figurine he'd been holding to the floor. Naturally, it shattered like an eggshell.
"Perfect," Marty muttered to himself as he gathered up the pieces and stuffed them into one of the several full garbage bags.
"Are you still tense from last night?" Doc asked.
Marty didn't reply. Instead, he stood up and headed toward the stairs.
Where are you going?" Doc inquired.
Marty turned to face him with that same sullen look. "Going crazy," Marty said without so much as a trace of humor.
Doc let out a weary sigh and set about to clearing out the attic by himself.
Marty stepped out the front door and walked the perimeter of the house as he tried to decide where it was that he wanted to go. He wasn't normally one to enjoy long walks, but anything was better than sitting in that house. As he walked toward the back of the house, he spotted a trail nearby.
"What a "vacation" this is turning out to be," Marty reflected to himself as he walked slowly along the slightly overgrown trail. He was oblivious to his surroundings as he walked his mind primarily on his troubles. It was bad enough to be having that situation with Jennifer. He didn't need to have any trouble with Doc as well.
He wasn't sure how long he had been walking when he spotted the fork in the trail. Faced with the less appealing alternative of going back to the house he decided to choose a path. After using the eenie, minie, moe method he settled on the path that veered right.
Meanwhile, back at the house, Doc was finding it considerably difficult to concentrate on the task at hand. He sighed wearily. He didn't want Marty to be mad at him, but he just couldn't fully bring himself to digest what Marty was trying to tell him. He needed answers either to verify the truth of this thing or to tell his analytical mind that he wasn't losing it. He didn't want to go back to the lawyer with this information, however, as he didn't think he could be of any real help. He needed to dig deep into this story and find its root cause. He also needed something a little more reliable than local word of mouth. As he was pondering this, he heard a resounding thud from the lower floor.
"Marty?" Doc called, thinking his friend had returned. His only answer was a bloodcurdling scream. He became at once concerned and a little scared and he got up from his spot to investigate the source of the noise. As he searched the house and found nothing seemingly amiss, he became rather annoyed.
"Marty, is this your idea of a prank?" he called out. Still no answer. Doc frowned and turned around to go back up to the attic when a young man immediately confronted him. This person was a stranger to Doc's eyes.
"Who are you? How did you get in here?" Doc sputtered, clearly taken aback.
"What do you mean, mon ami?" the young stranger replied in a voice laced with a thick French accent. "This is my house."
"The hell it is!" Doc exclaimed. "You'd better leave."
The young man threw back his head and laughed. It was the creepiest noise that Doc had ever heard he cringed from the sound. The young man looked back at Doc, his expression considerably more menacing than it had been a moment before.
"I think it is you who should leave, monsieur," he said. "We don't want any more accidents now do we."
With those words, the stranger promptly disappeared leaving Doc alone once again with chills coursing up and down his spine.
He decided that now would be a good time to go in search of those answers.
Back on the trail, Marty continued his walk. Wondering how long it had actually been since he had left the house, he looked at his watch. However, the infernal thing must have stopped again, because it read the time as 7:00 a.m.
"Stupid watch!" Marty said as he tried to shake some life back into it.
"Is your timepiece not working, monsieur?" asked a male voice with a considerably thick French accent.
Startled, Marty spun around in the general direction of the voice. There was a young man, probably about his age standing before him. His physical appearance was similar to Marty's, but it was the man's attire that held Marty's attention. The stranger was dressed in garb that looked out of this century to Marty's eyes. Usually, period attire didn't phase Marty too much anymore, but Marty wasn?t time traveling and it was too early for Halloween. He almost asked the person what the deal was.
"What time have you got?" Marty asked instead
The young man pulled an honest-to-God pocket watch out of his pocket and studied it shortly.
"The time is six p.m., mon ami," the stranger replied.
Marty looked up at the sky and frowned. The sun was too bright to be evening. "Hey are you sure that's right?" he asked as he brought his eyes down to where the stranger stood, but the young man was gone.
"What the hell?" he asked as he looked around. It seemed as if the young man had simply vanished to Marty's eyes. Marty suddenly, inexplicably felt chills as he wrapped his arms around himself. He decided that it might be a real good idea to return to the house. As he turned around and headed back down the trail, he could have sworn he heard that weird, ethereal laughter follow him.
When Marty returned to the house the first thing he noticed was that Doc's car was gone. He was more than a little reluctant to stay in that house alone, especially in light of the serious shit that had already happened to him. As Marty stepped inside, he could feel his apprehension grow ten-fold. From his time travel experiences, he knew that kind of foreboding was never a good thing. It was usually a signal of more bad things to come. Marty grabbed a quick snack to go and headed up to the attic to hurry along the cleaning process. He figured the sooner they were done, the sooner they could leave.
The box that Doc had been sorting through was still open, half its contents on the floor. Marty sat down to finish the job when he heard a door slam shut.
"Doc?" Marty called. No answer came. A loud thud followed the slam and then a sound that was unmistakably a woman screaming. Marty got up and walked to the stairwell. The sounds were definitely coming from downstairs and they seemed to repeat themselves incessantly, growing louder with each turn. Marty cautiously stepped on the first stair and the noises stopped. The house was quiet once again. Marty shrugged and turned around only to find himself face-to-face with that young man from the trail. Marty was so startled he almost screamed. The stranger noticed Marty's expression and a nasty smirk crossed his face.
"What is wrong, mon ami?" the stranger asked. "You look like you've seen a ghost." The young man threw back his head and laughed that same spooky laugh that Marty had been hearing ever since he arrived. It was then that Marty realized what that feeling in his gut had been trying to tell him.
"Who are you?" Marty asked his voice barely above a whisper.
However, Marty wouldn't get an answer to his question for the stranger promptly disappeared. Marty was left standing in the hallway alone, chills snaking up his spine. At least he thought he was alone.
"Marty?" said a voice from behind.
Marty spun around so quickly that he startled Doc who was standing mere inches from him. "Jeez, Doc!" he exclaimed breathlessly. "You shouldn't sneak up on people like that!"
"Sorry," Doc replied. "Are you okay?"
"That would depend on your definition of 'okay'," Marty said with a hint of sarcasm in his voice. "I'm thinking that maybe this so-called vacation was a bad idea."
"That makes two of us, I'm afraid," Doc said. "I was in town, trying to get a straight story about this house and a lot of what I found out was disconcerting to say the least."
"What did you find out?" Marty asked.
"The story in a nutshell is that a murder occurred in this house about a hundred years ago. A young man murdered his family and then killed himself. It was big news around here for some time afterward," Doc said. ?There were more written accounts of other occupants of this house dying under mysterious circumstances the causes ranging from illness to freak accidents. My cousin was one of the unlucky ones.?
Marty nervously glanced around the hallway as if the ghost would appear out of nowhere at any second. "So what exactly did you learn about your cousin?" he asked tentatively.
"I don't think you want to hear-" Doc began.
"Tell me anyway," Marty said abruptly cutting Doc off.
"The story read that his body was found in the attic. Apparently he had been dead for some time before he was actually found," Doc said softly, but there was a look in his eyes that told Marty Doc wasn't divulging all that he knew.
"There's more, isn't there?" Marty asked.
"A neighbor found his body in the attic as I previously stated," Doc replied. However, the authorities found his head in his/ your bedroom. They weren?t able to find any evidence that a human being did this so they fell back on the ghost story by default."
Marty looked less than thrilled at that news. "Perfect," he whispered.
A shrill scream from the direction of the attic interrupted both of them from their thoughts. "What the hell was that?" Doc asked as he proceeded to the small room. Marty, not wanting to be left by himself now, followed closely behind. When they reached the attic, they found nothing to indicate the source of such a noise.
"This is ridiculous!" Doc exclaimed, frustrated by his own lack of an explanation as to what was going on.
"Doc, I don't know about you, but I think this would be an excellent excuse to cut this trip short and head home," Marty said.
"I concur, Marty," Doc said as he looked around the room. ?Why don't you pack and I'll meet you at the car in five minutes. I can just take care of any further affairs from home. Frankly, I don't know if I can take any more of this place, myself."
"Great," Marty said with a small sigh of relief. However, his relief would be short lived. As he took a step toward the door, he saw it slam shut and he heard a click like the door was being locked.
"Doc, I think we're in for some serious shit," Marty said softly.
"You can't escape me," A familiar voice said in Doc's ear. Chills immediately surged up and down Doc's spine.
"Marty did you hear that?" Doc asked in a soft voice.
"Hear what?" Marty replied as his eyes scanned the room.
"Your friend can't help you,? the disembodied voice said.
Marty noticed the peculiar look on Doc's face and became a little concerned. "What gives, Doc?"
Doc couldn?t find the words to reply to Marty's question. The phantom voice spoke again.
"Kill him."
"No," Doc murmured as he shook his head.
"Kill him, I say. I can make you," the voice hissed.
"No," Doc said firmly, not backing down in the slightest.
"Kill him!"
"No, damn you!" Doc yelled at the voice.
Marty knelt in front of the window, taking this all in. Finally, he stood up and walked over to his friend, grabbed him firmly by the shoulders, and shook him. "Snap out of it, Doc!" he said.
"Do it now, mon ami," the voice said. Doc continued to resist, putting all he had into his resistance, but it was to no avail. His hands rose up of their own accord, totally independent of Doc's will and planted themselves unyieldingly around Marty's neck.
"Doc, what the hell are you doing?" Marty choked out.
Doc couldn't answer him. He felt like a marionette doing someone else's bidding. It was one of those rare times in his life he felt helpless to control the situation and as he felt his own hands tighten around Marty's neck and saw the fear and confusion in his friend's eyes, he felt even more powerless.
"Squeeze!" the voice hissed in Doc?s ear.
Doc tried, but there was no way for him to stop the tightening of his hands around Marty's neck. He could feel Marty?s hands trying to pry his own from around Marty's neck, but the young man was having no such luck. Marty's chest began to tighten from lack of oxygen and his surroundings became rather tilted. He wasn't certain how much longer he would last without breathing.
"Doc, please let go," he managed to choke out.
Doc couldn't stand it any longer. Watching his best friend die by his own hand was too much for him to bear and that gave him the edge he needed to override the power that had taken control of his body.
"Go to Hell!" Doc yelled. A ghostly scream filed the air and Doc could hear the click of the attic door's lock being released. His body became his own and he quickly removed his hands from Marty's neck. Marty started to slump forward and Doc caught him and carefully lowered him to the floor. Marty was still conscious, barely.
"Marty, I?m sorry," Doc said quickly. "Are you all right?"
Marty didn't answer right away, immediately prompting concern in Doc's mind that Marty was worse off than he looked at that moment. "Marty?" Doc said.
Marty, who had been spending the last several moments trying to catch his breath, looked up at Doc with an almost fearful expression. He remained silent, not quite sure of what to say to his friend.
"It wasn't me, Marty," Doc said softly. "You do realize that, don't you?"
Marty didn't reply, but as he averted his gaze a bit, he saw that the attic door was now slightly ajar. Before Doc could react, he made a beeline for the exit.
"Marty, wait!" Doc called as Marty exited the room.
However, Marty paid no heed. Doc could hear the young man's footsteps descend the stairs. Concerned about the status of Marty's condition, Doc followed him to the first floor. He reached the foot of the stairs as the front door slammed shut.
"Perfect," Doc said.
Marty finally stopped running when he realized that Doc wasn't following him. He fell to his knees on the ground, feeling rather light-headed. "Too much, too fast." he thought as he waited for his head to stop spinning. He just wished that the shakes could stop as easily. He didn't blame Doc for what had happened. He had a good idea of whom to blame for that. However, that knowledge didn't dispel the fact that it was Doc's hands around his neck. The scene played out repeatedly in his mind and it scared him out of his wits. He took several deep breaths to try to calm himself down, but the attempts were futile at best.
"Jesus Christ!" he whispered, his head bowed and tears brimming in his eyes. "Why is this happening?"
"Marty," a familiar voice whispered from behind him.
Marty let out a sharp gasp and quickly stood up to face who it was that had spoken to him. However, there was no one there. This was about the last that Marty could take and he blew his top.
"Who are you, asshole?" he shouted to the air. "Face me!"
Nothing happened. Marty turned around in the direction he had been headed and no more had taken a step when he came face-to-face with the young man he had met earlier. He almost screamed, but somehow he managed to hold it in.
"Who the hell are you?" Marty asked threateningly.
The strange, young man threw back his head and laughed. It was the creepiest laugh that Marty had ever heard and it took all of his willpower to keep it from showing. He stared the stranger straight in the eye. The stranger stared back, an evil smirk plastered on his face. Any effort that Marty took to keep his fear concealed betrayed him. The other person could see straight through him and he seemed to take a perverse pleasure in that for the wicked smile on his face grew in measure.
"You should be afraid of me, you insignificant mortal," the man hissed. "I can control you; I can destroy you. Just look what I did to the old man."
Despite his fear, Marty felt angry and his hands balled up into fists at his sides. This did not escape the attention of the stranger who found great amusement in the whole fare. The young man's amusement soon faded, however.
"You weren?t able to control Doc," Marty said. "He was able to defeat you. I'm still alive, aren't I?"
"It will not happen again, I assure you," the phantom sneered angrily. He reached out a ghostly hand grabbed Marty powerfully by the neck. Marty tried to fight him off, but he didn't have enough fight left in him to succeed. The grip the specter had on him was stronger than Doc's grip had been and Marty quickly found himself at the brink of unconsciousness. He fell to his knees and just as he thought there was no hope left he heard a voice call out:
"Leave him alone!" Doc boomed
The spirit released his grip suddenly and vanished. Marty fell over on the ground choking and gasping for breath as Doc ran to his side.
"Are you okay?" Doc asked, his voice frantic.
Marty opened his mouth to reply and caught sight of the demonic spirit standing behind Doc. Marty's eyes widened in fright and he tried to warn his friend, but he couldn't find his voice. As if Doc could sense what Marty wasn't able to tell him, he followed Marty's eyes to the ghost who was standing only inches from him. To say that Doc was startled would be an understatement as he turned to face the ghoul.
"Stay out of my way!" it snarled. "I have some unfinished business to take care of."
"The hell you do!" Doc said as he took a swing at the spirit. The lapse in Doc's judgment was poorly timed as his actions did nothing to inhibit the apparition. The young man simply held up his hand and stopped Doc's hand mid-flight. Then he grabbed Doc's fist and used it to deliver a strong blow to Doc's jaw. The force sent Doc staggering back so that he fell over Marty who was still on the ground, but he wasn't knocked out.
"Foolish choice!" the being hissed. "For that you both shall die!" He turned to Marty. "You will be first," he said as picked Marty up and wrapped his ghostly hands tightly around Marty's throat. Marty, having been weakened severely from the previous attacks, succumbed easily this third time and he slumped to the ground.
Doc leaned over his friend and shook him, but nothing would revive him. Marty lay so still that Doc immediately assumed the worst. A quick check of Marty?s vital signs confirmed Doc?s fear. He was attempting to come to grips with this turn of events when the specter turned on him.
"Your turn," it growled.
"My ass!" replied Marty.
Doc did a double-take, doubting what his senses were telling him. It was indeed his friend standing before the apparition. Or was it? Instead of a solid form, his friend was slightly translucent, wavering in and out of focus. The ghost laughed in Marty's face. "Save your strength, mon ami," it chortled. "You cannot possibly defeat me."
"Wanna bet?" Marty countered as he brought up his fists. "We can certainly finish this now!"
"Fin," the ghoul replied as he sent a stunning wallop right into Marty?s face. The ghostly stranger expected Marty to be down for the count, but Marty quickly rebounded and was once again standing before the unearthly spirit. The spirit became enraged and its eyes literally glowed red.
Now it was Marty's turn to wear the confident smirk. "Go to Hell, you bastard!" he said as he delivered a fast right hook to the ghoul's jaw. The spirit went down sputtering.
"You insolent..." it began, then stopped abruptly as though he had suddenly lost use of his voice. He had in fact and his once nearly solid form started to go in and out of focus. The ghoul opened his mouth, perhaps to sputter a curse, but no sound came out. Then, as suddenly as he appeared, he vanished.
Marty's spirit self, apparently satisfied with what had transpired, turned to face Doc with an almost apologetic expression. Doc, who had been watching the proceedings with astonishment, looked back at the young man with curiosity. However, Doc's questions wouldn?t be answered as Marty averted his gaze upward then took a step away from Doc.
Doc quickly realized where this was going. "Marty, wait!" he called. He knelt over Marty's body, attempting resuscitation, but it was in vain. He turned his attention back to the soul that was continuing to move away from him.
"Marty," Doc said.
The sound of his name being called out reverberated in Marty's ears. It sounded so far away from where he was. It came at him repeatedly urging him to wake up. However, something was holding him. Something didn't want to let him go.
"Marty," Doc's voice sounded closer this time. Marty fought the oblivion that was holding him down and forced his eyes open. He saw Doc leaning over him a concerned look overtaking his features.
"Are you all right, Marty?" he asked.
Marty caught a glimpse of his surroundings and realized quickly that something was amiss. He wasn't in the woods anymore, but in Doc's car. He sat up and looked out the window to find they were sitting on the side of the road telling Marty that they had stopped en route to somewhere.
"Marty?" Doc said cautiously. "Are you okay."
Marty stared at Doc inquisitively. "Where are we?" he asked hesitantly.
Doc gave Marty a confused look. "We are on our way to my late cousin's house. I only stopped out of concern for the nightmare you appeared to be having." Doc restarted the car and pulled out onto the dirt road.
"Nightmare?" Marty murmured as the scenery passed them by. Indeed, Marty realized that the route they were taking did look frighteningly familiar. He tried to dispel that uneasy feeling of deja vu that was overpowering him.
Doc kept an eye on his friend as he drove, noting that Marty was growing increasingly anxious over something. He?s been acting funny throughout this trip, Doc thought as he maneuvered along the road.
They reached their destination shortly thereafter. As Doc stopped the car a feeling of absolute fear and dread washed over Marty.
"It can?t be," he thought as he suppressed a scream of terror.
It was the house from his nightmare.
