Marty nodded.
“Well, I guess that’s everything,” Doc Brown said. “Good luck.”
Marty extended his hand. “Doc, I’d like to thank you for everything. Even if something goes wrong—”
“Don’t even think about that,” Doc interrupted. “It’ll go fine. And I’d like to thank you for everything. It’s been a pleasure.”
The two men shook hands.
“I’ll see you in about thirty years,” Doc said.
“I hope so.”
Once again Marty thought of Doc Brown’s date with the terrorists and hoped that the letter he had planted would help bring about a happier ending to his friend’s life.
“Don’t worry,” Doc Brown continued, mistaking Marty’s expression for concern about the upcoming race forward into time. “As long as you hit that wire with this hook, everything’ll be fine.”
“Right,” Marty nodded.
Making sure that everything had been taken care of, Doc Brown patted himself down, checking bits of paper and pads for something he might have forgotten. While doing so, he did the one thing Marty didn’t want him to—he discovered the unfamiliar envelope in his inside coat pocket. Withdrawing it, he looked at it curiously.
“What’s this?” he asked.
“Just a note, from me to you,” Marty stammered.
“It’s about something in the future, isn’t it?” Doc Brown said.
“No. It’s just a thank-you note,” Marty lied. “It’s kind of gushy.”
Doc shook his head skeptically. “People don’t write thank-you notes to be opened thirty years later,” he said. “I warned you about fooling with the future, kid. The consequences could be dangerous. Now I know this is something about the future, and I’ve told you a million times we shouldn’t mess with that.”
“I’ve gotta take that risk, Doc,” Marty replied firmly. “Your life depends on it.”
“Well, I’m not going to accept the responsibility,” Brown muttered.
With that, he tore up the letter and tossed the pieces into the ashtray of his Packard.
Marty was furious. Why wouldn’t the guy take a warning for his own good? “All right, Doc,” he shot back. “In that case I’m just gonna have to tell you straight out—”
Before he could get the words out
, a tremendous gust of wind shook the car and nearly blew Doc Brown away from his spot next to the open door. At the same time, a loud cracking sound was heard, followed by a succession of lesser crashing noises.
“Good Lord!” Doc Brown yelled.
Marty leaped from the car and both men rushed toward the lamp posts. A huge tree limb from one of the giant oaks in the square was now resting atop the cable between the clock tower and the first lamp post. A paddle plug attached to the lightning rod had come loose and the cable from the clock tower was now swinging free.
“Great Scott!” Doc Brown shouted as they ran. “Kid—find the end of that cable. I’ll throw the rope down to you!” With that, Brown grabbed a large coil of rope and dashed into the courthouse.
Marty gulped once and then set to work. In the semidarkness, it wasn’t easy to locate the end of the cable amidst the tangle of limbs and leaves, but he leaped into the pileup of debris and started searching. As he did so, he could feel the wind pick up even more. Long rolls of thunder warned him that time was running out; the storm was increasing in ferocity; only a few minutes separated them from 1985 and the blast of lightning that would carry him there.
“Damn!” he yelled. “Where the hell are you?”
Oblivious to the branches tearing his skin, he continued to tear into the pile. Doc Brown, meanwhile, raced up the courthouse stairs like a madman, taking the rough-hewn steps of the ancient belfry three at a time. Arriving at the clock tower room which opened to the ledge directly below the clock, he saw pigeons scatter as he invaded their inner sanctum of safety. His hair blowing wildly in the wind and his rough features illuminated by flashes of lightning, Doc Brown truly resembled the stereotypical mad scientist on a mission that would shake the world.
He looked up, saw that the connecting socket was dangling on its cable between the 1 and 2 of the huge clock face. The other end was still attached to the lightning rod on the tower above.
Looking down, he saw Marty, five stories below, waving the paddle plug which he had just located.