Back to the Future Part III

Marty I: Doc!

Doc: AHHH!! AHH!! HA! HA! HAHAHA!

Marty: Doc! Doc! Doc! DOC! DOC! Doc spins around and sees him. He is in shock.

Doc: Great Scott! He faints.

Marty: Doc. C’mon.

Doc: Great Scott! Ooh...Howdy Doody time!

Doc: Date, Sunday, November 13^th, 1955 7:01 AM. Last night’s time travel experiment was apparently a complete success. Lightning struck the clock tower at precisely 10:04 pm sending the necessary 1.21 jigowatts into the time vehicle, which vanished in a brilliant flash of light leaving a pair of fire trails behind. I therefore assumed that Marty and the time vehicle were transported forward through time into the year 1985. After that...after that...I can’t recall what happened. I don’t even remember how I got home! Perhaps the jigowatt discharge coupled with the temporal displacement field generated by the time vehicle caused a disruption of my own brain waves resulting in a condition of temporary amnesia. Indeed I now recall the moments after the time vehicle disappeared ... into the future ... I saw a vision of Marty saying, "I’ve come back from the future." Marty gets out of his chair, with Doc facing his back to him, and starts walking towards Doc. Undoubtedly this was some sort of -

Marty: Hey Doc. Doc. Grinning, waving. Doc spins around and is in shock.

Doc: AHHH! AHH! AHH!

Marty: Doc, calm down, OK? Just calm down, it’s me, it’s Marty.

Doc: No! It can’t be you I just sent you back to the future!!

Marty: But I came back from the future, remember? Last night you fainted... I brought you home.

Doc: This can’t be happening! You can’t be here! It doesn’t make sense! I don’t believe you are here.

Marty: I am here, and it does make sense. I came back to 1955 with the you from 1985 to get a book back from Biff. So once we got the book back, you...that is the you from 1985…were in the DeLorean when it got struck by lightning and you got sent back to 1885!

Doc: 1885? Opens door. It’s a very interesting story, Future Boy, but there’s one little thing that doesn’t make sense. If the me in the future is now in the past, how could you possibly know about it?

Scene: Doc's house a few minutes later. Doc is reading the letter.

Doc: "Dear Marty: If my calculations are correct, you will receive this letter immediately after you saw the Delorean struck by lightning. First, let me assure you that I am alive and well. I have been living happily these past eight months in the year 1885. The lightning bolt that hit the DeLorean caused a jigowatt overload which scrambled the time circuits, activated the flux capacitor, and sent me back to 1885. The overload shorted out the time circuits and destroyed the flying circuits. Unforunately, the car will never fly again." He pauses at this and turns to Marty in amazement. It actually flew!

Marty: Yeah, well, you had a hover conversion done in the early twenty-first century.

Doc: Incredible! He goes back to reading. "I set myself up as a blacksmith as a front while I attempted to repair the damage to the time circuits. Unfortunately, this proved impossible because suitable replacement parts will not be invented until 1947. However, I've gotten quite adept at shoeing horses and fixing wagons!" Doc turns over to Marty again. 1885! Amazing. I actually end up as a blacksmith in the Ol' West.

Marty: Grinning. Pretty heavy, huh?

Doc: Reading again. "I have buried the DeLorean in the Delgato mine adjacent to the old Boot Hill Cemetery as shown on the enclosed map. Hopefully it will remain undisturbed and preserved until you uncover it in 1955. Inside, you will find repair instructions. My 1955 counterpart" - that's me - "should have no problem repairing it so you can drive it back to the future. Once you have returned to 1985, destroy the time machine." He looks to Marty questioningly. Destroy it?

Marty: Uncomfortably, he takes the model car from BTTF I (the one Doc used to demonstrate how Marty from the first film would return to 1985 and accidentally burned and threw in the wastebasket) from the trash can, looks at it and puts it back. Yeah, well, it's a long story, Doc.

Doc: "Do not - I repeat - do not attempt to come back here to get me. I am perfectly happy living in the fresh air and wide open spaces, and I fear that unnecessary time travel only risks further disruption of the space-time continuum. And please take care of - Einstein for me." Again, he turns to Marty with a question in his voice. Einstein?

Marty: He's your dog, Doc - Einstein - it's what you call your dog...in 1985. He walks over to a chess set, in front of which Copernicus, Doc's 1955 dog, is sitting, and begins playing the game.

Doc: Doc smirks and continues reading. "I know you will give him a good home. Remember to walk him twice a day and that he only likes canned dog food. These are my wishes. Please respect them and follow them. And so, Marty, I now say farewell and wish you Godspeed. You've been a good, kind, and loyal friend to me and you made a real difference in my life. I will always treasure our relationship, and will think on you with fond memories, warm feelings and a special place in my heart. Your friend in time, 'Doc.' Emmett L. Brown."

Doc: This says September 1^st, 1885. I never knew I could write anything so touching.

Doc: Oh, it’s all right, Copernicus! Everything’s going to be fine.

Doc: There are plenty worse places to be than the Old West. I could’ve ended up in the Dark Ages. They probably would’ve burned me at the stake as a heretic or something. Let’s look at the map. It says here the time vehicle is buried here in a side tunnel. We may have to blast.

Marty: Whoa. I think you woke up the dead with that blast. Very ironic statement although Marty doesn’t know it.

Doc: Take this camera... I want to document everything!

Doc: This reminds me of the time I attempted to reach the center of the earth. I’d be reading my favorite author, Jules Verne. I spent weeks preparing for the expedition, I didn’t even get this far. Of course, I was only 12 at the time. It was the writings of Jules Verne that had a profound effect on my life. I was 11 when I first read 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea. That’s when I realized that I must devote my life into science.

Marty: Doc… check it out… look at this. He found a little cranny in the cave with wooden planks covering it, marked by an "ELB".

Doc: My initials... just like in Journey To The Center of the Earth! That means the time machine must be right through this wall.

Doc: Sighs. It’s been buried here for 70 years, 2 months, and 13 days. Astounding.

Marty: "...As you can see, the lightning bolt shorted out the time circuit control microchip. The attached she-she..."

Doc: Schematic.

Marty: "...schematic diagram will allow you to build a replacement unit with the 1955 components, thus restoring the time machine to perfect working order."

Doc: Unbelievable, that his piece of junk could be such a big problem. No wonder this circuit failed... it says, "Made in Japan."

Doc: You know, when I was a kid I always wanted to be a cowboy. Now, knowing I’ll spend my future in the past it sounds like a wonderful way to spend my retirement years. It just occurred to me…since I end up in 1885 perhaps I’m now in the history books. I wonder…could I go to the library and look myself up in the old newspaper archives?

Marty: I dunno, Doc, you’re the one whose always saying, you know, it’s not too good to know too much about your own destiny.

Doc: You’re right, Marty … I know too much already. Better that I not attempt to uncover the circumstances of my own… future. Calling out for his dog, about to get into the car. Copernicus! Come home boy!

Marty: I’ll get him Doc. Copernicus!

Marty: Come on, let’s go home, boy.

Marty: What’s wrong? What’s wrong, Copernicus, come on, let’s go home. Come on. Marty finds Copernicus whining in front of a tombstone. He quickly shines the flashlight on the tombstone writing but doesn’t seem to notice it, although to the audience it is quite clear that it is marked "Here Lies Emmett Brown." Seconds later, he returns carrying Copernicus keeps his flashlight on the tombstone.

Marty: DOC! DOC! Come here! Quick!

Doc: What’s wrong, Marty? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.

Marty: You’re not far off, Doc. Look at this.

Doc: Apparently reading the tombstone and clutching his chest appearing to go into convulsions. Oh! Great Scott!

Marty: Check this out. "Died, September 7th, 1885." That’s one week after you wrote the letter! "Erected in eternal memory by his beloved Clara." Spins around to face Doc, stands up. Who the hell is Clara??!!

Doc: Marty, please don’t stand there!!

Marty: Oh, right, sorry. I gotta get another picture. Takes picture of tombstone.

Doc: "…shot in the back by Buford Tannen over a matter of 80 dollars!" What kind of a future do you call that?!

Marty: Reading. "Buford Tannen was a notorious gunman whose short temper and a tendency to drool earned him the nickname Mad Dog. He was quick on the trigger and bragged that he had killed 12 men, not including Indians or Chinamen."

Doc: Does it mention me? Am I one of the twelve?

Marty: Just a minute. "However, this claim can not be substantiated since precise records were not kept after Tannen shot a newspaper editor after printing an unfavorable story about him in 1884." That’s why we can’t find anything.

Doc: Bringing out a book of old family pictures. Look ... the William McFly family. Your relatives?

Marty: My great-grandfather’s name was William. Lays finger over photograph of his ancestor. That’s him. Good looking guy. Note: Michael J. Fox is playing Marty and in the photograph, Michael J. Fox is posing as William. Obviously the writers are using this connection to make a joke.

Doc: McFlys...but no Browns!

Marty: Look, Doc, maybe it was mistake. Maybe that grave wasn’t yours. There could’ve been another Emmett Brown back in 1885. Did you have any relatives here back then?

Doc: Shaking head. The Browns came to America in 1908, and then they were the Von Brauns. My father changed our name in World War I.

Marty: Doc! Look! Thumbing through photos, he has found a picture of Doc on September 5, 1885 in front of the brand new clock now in the clock tower.

Doc: Oh! Great Scott! It’s me! Then it is true. All of it. It is me who goes back there…and gets shot.

Marty: It's not gonna happen Doc. Doc looks at him quizzically. After you fix the time circuits and put new tires on the DeLorean, I’m going back to 1885 and I’m bringing you home.

Doc: The clothes fit?

Marty: Calling out from inside. Yeah! Everything except the boots, Doc. They’re kind of tight! I dunno, are you sure this stuff is authentic?

Marty: That’s right. Points finger at a movie poster, the first Western movie starring Clint Eastwood. You haven’t heard of him yet.

Doc: Marty, you have to wear the boots. You can’t wear those futuristic things in 1885. You shouldn’t even be wearing them in 1955. Indicating his Nike’s.

Marty: All right, Doc, look. Once I get there I’ll put them on, I promise.

Doc: Okay, I think we’re about ready. I put gas in the tank, your future clothes are packed, just in case fresh batteries for your walkie-talkies. Oh, and what about that floating device?

Marty: Hoverboard.

Doc: Alright. Picking up Hoverboard and putting it in the DeLorean.

Marty: You know Doc, it’s gonna be a hell of long walk back to Hill Valley from here.

Doc: It’s still the safest plan. After all, we can’t risk sending you back to a populated area, or to a spot that’s geographically unknown. You don’t want to crash into some trees that once existed in the past. This is all completely open country! So you’ll have plenty of run-out space when you arrive. Remember where you’re going there are no roads. There’s a small cave over there which will be a perfect place to hide the time vehicle. Well, the new time circuit control tubes are warmed up! Starting up DeLorean. Time circuits on. I wrote the letter on September 1^st, so we’ll send you back the very next day. September 2^nd, that’s a Wednesday. September 2^nd, 1885, 8 AM. I get shot on Monday the 7^th, so you have 5 days to locate me. According to my letter I’m a blacksmith, so I probably have a shop somewhere. Calling out. All you have to do is drive the time vehicle directly towards that screen accelerating at 88 miles per hour.

Marty: Wait a minute, Doc. If I drive straight towards the screen, I’ll crash into those Indians. Indicating a mural painting of Indians behind the movie screen.

Doc: Marty. You’re not thinking fourth dimensionally! You’ll instantly be transported to 1885, and those Indians won’t even be there.

Marty: Right.

Doc: Well, good luck, for both of our sakes. See you in the future. Pats Marty on the shoulder.

Doc: Exactly! Running out away from DeLorean near the small building w/ bathrooms. He will use a pistol to start Marty off. Happy trails Marty! Ready Marty?

Marty: Starting up car. Ready!

Doc: Set!

Marty: Mumbling while he pulls the lever into driving mode. Hi ho silver.

Doc: Viya con dios!

Marty: INDIANS!

Marty: AHHHH!! He spins around for a while and finally spots the cave Doc had talked about earlier. The cave! He drives toward the cave and watches the Indians and their horses leaping over the cave away from something. Marty, thinking he’s safe, ventures out and climbs up to see nothing. Suddenly he hears a trumpet playing and a bunch of cowboys riding directly towards him.

Marty: Shit, the cavalry!! Gets back into cave. Once he sees that the coast is clear, he looks over the DeLorean and sees an arrow that an Indian shot into the car. He pulls it out and stoops to look underneath, and sees liquid dripping from the bottom of the car. Damn, I ripped the fuel line.

Marty: AHHH!! AHH!!

Marty: AHH!! AH! AH! WHO WHO! He runs away from the bear and out of the cave, dropping his boots along the way. The bear sniffs curiously at the boots and stops, nosing through it. Marty, however, keeps running while looking at the bear and trips, sliding down a hill. He tries to stop but he can’t. UH! He crashes at the bottom of the hill on a farmer’s fence and instantly passes out.

Seamus: Maggie! We see a boot shot of Seamus first, then the rest of his body. He is also played by Michael J. Fox. He talks with an Irish accent. Fetch some water, we got a hurt man here!

Marty: Mom...Mom, is that you?

Woman’s Voice with Irish accent: There there now, you’ve been asleep for nearly 6 hours now.

Marty: I had this horrible nightmare. It was terrible. I dreamed I was in a western...I was being chased by Indians. And a bear.

Woman’s Voice: Well, you’re safe and sound, here now at the McFly farm.

Marty: McFly farm! AHH!! Sits up in bed. He is in a log cabin, a single room with a bed. A woman is sitting at a desk on a chair near the bed. Well you’re my-my – my… suddenly realizing that although he knows the last name, he doesn’t know which member of the family this is. Who are you?

Woman: Name’s McFly. Maggie McFly.

Marty: McFly. Gulping. Maggie.

Maggie: That’s Mrs. McFly, and don’t you be forgettin’ the misses! And what might your name be sir?

Marty: Well, it’s Mc- Suddenly realizing he shouldn’t let her know that they are related. Marty recalls the conversation he had with Doc in 1955. ...Eastwood...uh...Clint...Clint Eastwood? Grinning sheepishly.

Maggie: No-nonsense, practically. You hit your head, Mr. Eastwood. Not too serious, but lucky for you, Seamus found you when he did.

Marty: Seamus. Incredulously.

Maggie: Me husband. Explaining. Gets up to leave the room. You’ll be excuse me Mr. East-wood, while I tend to William.

Marty: William. He gets up and checks to see that his pants are still on (after all, that episode in BTTF I wasn’t too pretty.) He goes out to see Maggie bouncing a crying baby in her arms, cooing.

Marty: That’s William?

Maggie: Aye! William Shaun McFly, the first of our family to be born in America! Ahh, its okay Will! Here’s Mr. Clint Eastwood...this is him. William is staring at Marty and has stopped crying. Maggie looks at Marty. He already likes you, Mr. Eastwood.

Seamus: Maggie. Slams a dead deer down on the table. I got supper.

Seamus: I’m not one to pry into a man’s personal affairs but how is it that you came to be way out here, without a horse? Or boots? Or a hat?

Marty: Well my car — horse broke down and buried my boots. And I guess I just forgot my hat.

Maggie: How could you forget a thing like your hat? Would you like some water?

Marty: Yeah, thanks. Maggie pours him a glass of pink stuff. Marty stares at it.

Seamus: I’ll tell you what I’ll do, Mr. Eastwood. I’ll help you find your blacksmith friend. You can stay the night in the barn. And tomorrow, I’ll take you as far as the railroad tracks...you can follow them straight on in into town. Marty spits out seeds from some sort of bread onto his plate. I’ll even give you a hat.

Marty: That’s great. Thanks.

Seamus: Ahh. Woogie William. Woogie William. Ohh, yes. Sits down at table again with William and talks to Marty. I think you’ll find the barn comfortable. I’ve never had any complaints about it from the pigs. Laughs.

Maggie: Seamus. A word with you.

Seamus: Aye. Stands up and reaches his full arms out to Marty. Will you hold him for a minute? He hands William to Marty (MICHAEL J. FOX TO MICHAEL J. FOX!!) and then goes to the corner of the room to talk to Maggie.

Maggie: You sure you’re not after bringing a curse on this house, taking him in like that. Such a strange young man.

Seamus: Aye, but I’ve just got a feeling about him Maggie. It’s the right thing to do. It’s important. Look how the baby takes to him. Little Will never takes to strangers. It’s almost as if…he’s connected to us.

Marty: Talking to the baby. Hey, Will. So you’re my great-grandfather...the first McFly born in America. Raises Will up to see urine pouring between his legs. And you’re peeing on me.

Man #1: Give me some soap, Frank.

Man #2: Here you go.

Horse Driver: Hyah!

Marty gets out of the way right before a horse-drawn carriage runs over him. There is a clearing of dust and we see Marty staring at his boots, now covered with horse poop. He walks into the saloon.

Old Timer #1: Take a look at what just breezed in the door.

Old Timer #2: Why I didn’t know the circus was in town!

Old Timer #3: Looks like he got that shirt off’n a dead Chinee.

Bartender: To Marty. What’ll it be, stranger?

Marty: Uh...I’ll have...uh...ice water.

Old Timer #1: Ice water? Laughs.

Bartender: Water? You want water, you better go dunk your head in the horse trawl back there. Old Timers laugh. In here... we pour whiskey. He takes out a bottle of whiskey and pours a small glass. Marty stares at it. There is steam coming from the glass.

Marty: Excuse me. I’m trying to find a blacksmith.

Voice: Hey McFly... thought I done told you never to come in... We see that it is a mean looking cowboy with a gang behind him. You ain’t Seamus McFly. Walking towards the counter. You look like him though. ‘Specially with that dawg ugly hat. His gang laughs. Marty rolls his eyes at his hat and takes it off. You kin to that hay barber? Marty doesn’t reply. He just stares. What’s your name, dude?

Gang Member: I’d say he’s the runt of the litter.

Gang Member: Going over to Marty, shaking his jaw and showing off Marty’s brushed teeth. Take a look, see these pearly whites! I ain’t seen teeth that straight weren’t store bought.

Gang Member: Take a look at them moccasins. What kind of skins is them? What’s that writing mean…Neekay…what is that, some sort of Injun talk or something? Laughs.

Gang Leader: Bartender begins pouring out whiskey but gang leader stops him. With the barrel of his gun. Bartender...I’m looking for that no good cheatin’ blacksmith. You seen him?

Bartender: Scared. No, sir, Mr. Tannen, I have not.

Marty: Tannen. You’re Mad Dog Tannen.

Buford (formerly Gang Leader, we now know his name): Mad Dog? Everyone in the saloon runs and hides, but Marty stays where he is. I hate that name. I hate it, you hear? Nobody calls me Mad Dog. ‘Specially not some, duded-up, egg sucking, guttertrash. He points a gun at Marty’s feet and shoots, causing Marty to jump to save his feet.

Marty: AHH!

Buford: Dance! Fires shot. Come on! Fires shot, gang members laughing hysterically. Come on, runt, you can dance – fires shot – better than that!

Marty: Uh…uh…Billy Jean is not my lover—kicking feet—whoo!

Old Timer #1: You better run, squirrel!

Buford: Y’all get him!!!

Marty: Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! Whoa!

Marty: Ahh!!

Buford: We got ourselves a new courthouse…high time we had a hangin’!

Marty: Oh, oh God, hu...

Buford: Haven’t had a hanging in a long time!

Doc: It’ll shoot the fleas off a dogs back at 500 yards, Tannen, and its pointed straight at your head!!

Buford: You owe me money, blacksmith.

Doc: How do ya figure?

Buford: My horse threw his shoe. Seein’ you was the one who done the shoeing, I figures you was responsible.

Doc: Well since you never paid me for the job I say that makes us even!

Buford: Wrong! See I was on my horse when he threw his shoe and I got throwed off. And that just caused me to bust a perfectly good bottle of fine Kentucky Redeye. So the way I figure, blacksmith, you owe me five dollars for the whiskey, and seventy-five dollars for the horse.

Marty: Realizing this is why Doc is going to be killed. He can barely speak, so he whispers hoarsely. That’s eighty dollars!

Doc: Look, if your horse threw his shoe, bring him back and I’ll reshoe him!

Buford: But I shot that horse!

Doc: Well that’s your problem, Tannen!

Buford: Wrong. That’s yours. So from now on, you better be lookin’ behind you when you walk. ‘Cause one day you gonna get a bullet in yo’ back. Let’s go!

Marty: Doc...

Doc: Marty...I gave you explicit instructions not to come here but to go back directly to 1985.

Marty: I know Doc...but I had to co—

Doc: But its good to see ya, Marty.

Doc: Marty, you’re gonna have to do something about those clothes. You walk around town dressed like that and you’re liable to get shot.

Marty: Making a tightening gesture around his own neck. Or hanged.

Doc: What idiot dressed you in that outfit?

Marty: Clapping his hand on Doc’s shoulder and smiling for the first time. You did.

Marty: I dunno, Doc. I thought maybe she was a girlfriend of yours.

Doc: Looking at Marty like he is stupid. Marty. My involvement in such a social relationship, here in 1885, the result is a disruption of the space-time continuum. As a scientist, I can never take that risk, certainly not after we’ve already been through.

Man outside: Emmett! Ho Emmett!

Doc: Looking out the open door. Hubert! Speaking towards Marty in the back of the room. It’s the mayor!

Mayor: Coming just inside the door. Excuse me Emmett. You remember last week at the town meeting when you volunteered to meet the new school teacher at the station after she came in?

Doc: Oh yes, quite so.

Mayor: Well, we just got word she’s comin’ in tomorrow. Here are the details for ya. He gives Doc a sheet of paper. Thanks for all your help.

Doc: Walking towards Marty, calling out. Anytime, Hubert!

Mayor: Oh, her name’s Miss Clayton. Clara Clayton.

Marty: Well, Doc, now we know who Clara is.

Doc: Looking at Marty with a weird grin on his face. Marty. It’s impossible. The idea that I could fall in love at first sight? It’s romantic nonsense. There’s no scientific rationale to that.

Marty: Laughing. C’mon, Doc, it’s not science. You meet the right girl, it just hits ya; it’s like lightning.

Doc: Climbing a ladder on a giant machine he’s made. Marty, please don’t say that!

Marty: Calling out. That’s the way it was for me and Jennifer. Man, we couldn’t keep our eyes off each other! God, Jennifer, damn, I hope she’s alright, Doc. I can’t believe we just left her there on the porch!

Doc: Don’t worry, Marty, she’ll be fine. When you burned the almanac in 1955, the normal timeline was restored. That means once we’re back in 1985, you just have to go over to the house to wake her up.

Doc: Oh, Marty, turn that valve over there all the way to the right. Yeah, turn it all the way around. Okay let’s go!

Doc: Iced tea?

Marty: No, thanks. Doc takes a swig. Marty looks incredulously at the giant machine. It’s a refrigerator!

Doc: Moving away from his invention. Well, I guess Miss Clayton will have to find other transportation. Turning to face Marty. If I never meet the woman, there’s no possibility of a romantic infatuation, right?

Marty: You’re the doc, Doc.

Doc: Alright then. Let’s get the DeLorean and get ourselves back to the future! Puts on hat.

Marty: Casually. Oh Doc, I tore a hole in the gas tank. We’ll have to patch it up and get gas.

Doc: Frozen in place, expression changes. You mean we’re out of gas?

Marty: Still unaware of what’s wrong. Yeah, no big deal, we got Mr. Fusion, right?

Doc: Mr. Fusion powers the time circuits and the flux capacitor. But the internal combustion engine runs on ordinary gasoline; it always has. There’s not going to be a gas station around here until some time in the next century. Without gasoline, we can’t get the DeLorean up to 88 miles per hour.

Marty: Facing mirror. So what’ll we do?

Marty: Uh! Uh! Uh! Uh!

Doc: Ya! Ya! Using whip, I believe.

Marty: Reading their speed off some sort of device. 24!

Doc: It’s no use Marty! Even the fastest horse in the world can’t run more than 35, 40 miles an hour.

Doc: Ya! Ya! Ya!

Marty: Bartender says that’s the strongest stuff they got.

Doc: Try it, Marty.

Doc: Need more gas…

Doc: Damn! It blew the fuel injection manifold. Strong stuff all right. Sheepishly handing the broken part to Marty. It’ll take me a month to rebuild it.

Marty: A month? Doc, you’re gonna get shot on Monday!

Doc: Has moved toward a desk near the window facing the railroad tracks; there is a calendar with the date next to the desk. He faces Marty, back to window. I know, I know, I know! I wish...wait. I’ve got it! We can roll it down a steep hill…no, we’d never find a smooth enough surface. Unless...of course...ice. Eyes widening. We can wait until winter…when the lake freezes over…

Marty: Winter! Doc! Monday! It’s three days away!

Doc: Apparently trying to think again. Wait. Let’s just think this thing through logically. We know it can’t run on its own power, and we know we can’t pull it. But, if we can figure out a way to push it up to 88 mph…huh?

Doc: That’s it!

Engineer: How fast she can go? Why, I’ve powered her up to 55 myself. I hear that fearless Frank Fargo got one of these up to near 70 out past Verde Junction.

Marty: Is it possible to get it up to 90?

Engineer: Laughing. 90? Tarnations, son, why’d ya ever be in such a hurry?

Doc: Well, it’s just a little bet that he and I have, that’s all. Theoretically speaking, could it be done?

Engineer: Well, I suppose if you had a straight stretch of track with a long level grade, and you weren’t hauling no cars behind you...and if you could get the fire hot enough...I mean hotter than the blazes of hell and tarnations...well yes, you might be able get her up that fast.

Doc: When’s the next train coming through here?

Engineer: Matter-of-factly. Monday morning at 8 o’clock.

Doc: Here. Slams finger on map. This spur runs off the main line 3 miles down to Clayton Ravine. There’s a long stretch of track that will still exist in 1985. This is where we’ll push the DeLorean with the locomotive. Leaning against the wall. Funny, this map calls Clayton ravine Shonash Ravine. Must be an old Indian name for it. Facing map again. It’s perfect. Nice long run that goes clear across the bridge over the ravine, you know, over near that Hilldale housing development.

Marty: Right, Doc, but according to this map…indicating map…there is no bridge.

Marty: Well, Doc, we can scratch that idea. I mean, we can’t wait around a year and a half for this thing to get finished.

Doc: Marty…it’s perfect! You’re just not thinking fourth dimensionally!

Marty: Mumbling, probably thinking, "Where have I heard that before?". Right, right. I have a real problem with that.

Doc: Don’t you see? The bridge will exist in 1985. It’s safe and still in use. Therefore, as long as we get the DeLorean up to 88 miles per hour before we hit the edge of the ravine, we’ll instantaneously arrive at a point in time where the bridge is completed. We’ll have track under us, and coast safely across the ravine!

Marty: What about the locomotive?

Doc: Grinning. It’ll be a spectacular wreck. Too bad no one will be around to see it.

Woman: In the background. Ahhh!! help me!

Doc: Turns to see a woman in the distance riding on a buckboard with horses speeding wildly out of control and headed straight for the edge of Shonash Ravine. Great Scott! He kicks his horse. Git!

Marty: He motions his horse to get moving. Hah!

Doc: Speeds toward the woman on his horse (still not seeing her face) and motions her to get off the wagon. Jump!

Doc: Calming his horse down. Whoa.

Woman: Her hat sits jaunty on her head, covering her face. Oh, thank you, sir, you saved my...she lifts her hat for the first time and sees Doc. Stunned she cannot speak for a moment. …life.

Doc: Doc stares at her too. His eyes grow wide. Apparently he’s fallen in love with this woman. Emmett Brown, at your service, Miss...

Woman: Um...um...Clayton. Clara Clayton.

Doc: Clara. He pauses for a moment. What a beautiful name.

Doc: May I help you inside with these?

Clara: Oh no, that won’t be necessary. You’ve done more than enough already.

Doc: But it’s really no trouble.

Marty: Doc, she says it’s fine, and we gotta get goin’. Looks up at Clara. Ma’am, good luck with the school teachin’ and everything.

Doc: Clara, I’ll straighten everything out with Mr. Statler from the buckboard rental … don’t you worry about that. I feel someone’s responsible for what happened.

Clara: Oh, well, that would be very gentlemanly of you, Mr. Brown...Emmett. You know, I’m almost glad that snake spooked those horses. Otherwise, we might never have met. I suppose it was destiny. Doc stares at her unbelievingly. Well, thank you for everything.

Doc: You’re quite welcome.

Clara: I will…see you again, won’t I?

Doc: Casually but knowing he is lying. Of course, you’ll see lots of me, I’m sure, I have a shop in town. I’m a local scientist...uh...uh...blacksmith.

Clara: Science? What sort of science? Astronomy? Chemistry?

Doc: Enchanted again by Clara. Actually I’m a student of all sciences.

Marty: Hey Doc, we gotta get goin’.

Doc: Oh yes, well, excuse us Clara, we have to get...going. He backs out from the path to Clara’s house and closes the small gate. He then waves with a ridiculous look on his face. Toodle-oo.

Marty: What do ya mean, you’re gonna be seein’ lots of her, Doc?

Doc: Well…I might see her again, just in passing.

Marty: Laughing. C’mon, Doc, did you see the way she was looking at you?

Doc: Admittingly. Well, she did have quite a scare, right? After all, Miss Clayton almost ended up at the bottom of Clayton Ravine. The words register as he speaks them. Clayton Ravine...

Marty: Apparently it registers with him, too. Holy shit! Hey Doc! Clayton Ravine was named after a teacher. Doc turns to stare at him. He continues explaining. They say she fell in there a hundred years ago.

Doc: Incredulously. A hundred years ago! That’s this year!

Marty: Continuing. Every kid in school knows that story because we all have teachers we’d like to see fall into the ravine.

Doc: Great Scott! He stops his horse. Then she was supposed to go over in that wagon...and now, I may have seriously altered history. He sits there hopelessly.

Marty: Look, Doc, what’s the worst that could happen, huh? So they don’t name the ravine after her. Let’s just get the DeLorean ready and get the hell out of here.

Doc: Ignoring Marty. I wish I’d never invented that infernal time machine...which caused nothing but disaster. He rides slowly away. Marty pauses for a moment, looking at Doc curiously, then continues as well.

Doc: Speaking into walkie-talkie from the other end, working on the tires of the DeLorean. Check, Marty.

Marty: Into walkie-talkie. Great Doc, these things still work.

Doc: Alright. Doc moves toward a model railroad he has built and Marty advances toward it from the opposite direction. Marty, once more lets go over the entire plan and layout. I apologize for the crudity of this model...

Marty: Remembering the 1955 Doc’s model of the Hill Valley square the night of the thunderstorm. Yeah, I know, Doc, it’s not to scale. It’s okay, Doc.

Doc: Alright. Tomorrow night, Sunday, we’ll load the DeLorean on to the tracks here on the spur right by the old abandoned silver mine. The switch track is where the spur runs off the main line 3 miles into Clayton...Shonash Ravine. The train leaves the station at 8:00 Monday morning. We’ll stop it here, uncouple the cars from the tender, throw the switchtrack, and hijack - borrow the locomotive and use it to push the time machine. According to my calculations we’ll hit 88 miles per hour just before we hit the edge of the ravine, at which point we’ll instantaneously arrive in 1985 and coast safely across the completed bridge.

Marty: What does this mean? Indicating a small sign Doc has made out of cardboard near the end of the railroad. Point of no return?

Doc: That’s our failsafe point. Up until that point we can stop the locomotive before it plunges over the ravine. But once we pass that windmill, it’s the future or bust.

Doc: Here you go, Marty. Connect that to the positive terminal. All right, Marty, you all set?

Marty: Yeah, yeah, go.

Doc: Train pulling out of the station! Coming up the switch track! Stop at switch track! Throw switch! Pull up the DeLorean! Pushing lever further and further downward. Pushing the DeLorean up to 88 miles per hour! The model train falls off the table with the model car and onto a pillow on the ground. Doc catches the model DeLorean before it hits the ground. It couldn’t be simpler!

Woman’s Voice: Hello? Emmett?

Doc: It’s Clara! Quick, cover the DeLorean. Marty and Doc busy themselves throwing a sheet over the DeLorean and Marty hides the model car behind his back. Clara opens the door herself and invites herself in.

Clara: Hello.

Doc: Why, hello. This is quite a surprise.

Clara: Well, I hope I’m not disturbing anything.

Doc: Oh no, we were just doing a little model railroad. Walking over toward the model railroad.

Clara: Emmett, when my bags were thrown from the wagon, my telescope was damaged. And...since you expressed an interest...in science, I thought you might be able to repair it for me. She pauses. I would pay you, of course.

Doc: Quickly. Oh, no, no, no, I wouldn’t think of charging you for this. Marty sighs and runs his hand through his hair. Well, let’s have a look at it. He opens the telescope case Clara has brought and takes out the long device. He puts it in front of his eye and closes the other.

Clara: I think the lens may be out of alignment, because if you move it this way, the image turns fuzzy, see? She moves closer to Doc and gently moves the telescope in one direction. But if you turn it ... the other way...

Doc: Doc moves the telescope from his eyes and lowers his hand. He turns to face Clara. They gaze at each other. ...everything becomes… clear.

Doc: I will repair it right away and have it for you tonight.

Clara: Oh, tonight’s the town festival. I wouldn’t dream of having you work on my telescope during such an important event. You are...planning on attending, aren’t you?

Marty: Well, actually ma’am...

Doc: Of course, the festival... Marty looks at him strangely but doesn’t say anything.

Clara: Well, in that case, I’ll see you this evening at the festival, Emmett. She walks toward the door and acknowledges Marty. Mr. Eastwood.

Marty: Ma’am.

Clara: Suddenly turning back to look at Doc. Thank you…for taking care of my telescope.

Doc: You’re quite welcome. Clara exits and Doc has the stupidest look on his face that anyone’s ever seen. Marty goes up to him after a moment.

Marty: It’s a nice telescope.

Mayor: Ladies and gentlemen! As mayor of Hill Valley, it gives me great pleasure to dedicate this clock to the people of Hill County. May it stand for all time! Clapping and cheering. Tell me when, gentlemen!

Townspeople: 3...2...1...now!

Mayor: Let the festivities begin!

Doc: Y’know Marty, in a way it’s fitting that you and I are here to witness this.

Marty: Marty flashes a smile. Too bad I didn’t bring my camera.

Doc: To Marty while facing the camera. The only problem is we’ll never be able to show it to anybody.

Marty: Smile, Doc.

Doc: What great music!

Marty: Yeah; it’s got a beat and you can dance to it!

Colt Gun Salesman: Step right up, gentlemen, and test your mettle with the latest products from Colonel Samuel Colt’s Patent firearms of Hartford, Conneticut. Take this model for example. Marty turns and watches the Colt gun demonstration. Doc doesn’t; he ventures out to see the sights. The new, improved and refined Colt Peacemaker. Available to you tonight for the low, low price of $12.

Doc: Good evening.

Clara: Evening.

Doc: You look very…nice.

Clara: Thank you.

Doc: He observes the festivities for a moment and then stutters in invitation. Would you like…uh…would you care to, uh…

Clara: Without hesitation, reassuring Doc. I’d love to.

Marty: No, no, thanks. He turns to speak to Doc, unaware that he’s already been gone a long time. Hey Doc, this… He notices that Doc isn’t there and his eyes move to the dance floor.

Colt Gun Salesman: Not giving up so easily. Son! Sonny boy! Marty is oblivious to the salesman’s desire for attention. He notices Doc and Clara on the dance floor and his shocked to see them begin dancing.

Marty: The doc can dance?!

Colt Gun Salesman: Son! Son! Son! He nudges Marty’s shoulder with the barrel of the loaded gun (ooh, that’s rough). Marty finally turns around. Hey! I just told you that even a baby can handle this weapon. Surely you’re not afraid to try something that a baby can do.

Marty: Hey, I’m not afraid of anything.

Colt Gun Salesman: Triumphant. Well, then, step right up like a man. Hands Marty a gun in front of a little diorama of the Old West in a box. It looks almost like an old fashioned video game to Marty. Now, what you do is just ease that hammer back there and squeeze off a round. Marty points it to the diorama but the man shakes his head and guides his hand upward. No, no, no, right on out there and be real smooth. That’s how you do it.

Colt Gun Salesman: Thinking Marty is pathetic and chuckling. Ho ho. God.

Marty: Suddenly recognizing the similarities to a video game (although we don’t know it yet). Hey listen, can I try that again?

Colt Gun Salesman: Sure, go ahead. Still chuckling.

Colt Gun Salesman: Hey, just tell me one thing…where’d you learn to shoot like that?

Marty: In all seriousness. Seven-eleven.

Gang Member #1: Buford, you sure that blacksmith is gonna be at this here shindig?

Buford: Sure he’s here. His voice growing dark. Everybody’s here tonight.

Deputy Marshall: You gentlemen are gonna have to check your firearms if you want to join in on the festivities.

Buford: Laughs. And who’s gonna make us, tender-foot…you?

Marshall: I am. Buford turns to see Marshall Strickland to his left side, holding a long rifle near Tannen’s shoulder.

Buford: Marshall Strickland. I didn’t know you was back in town.

Marshall: If you can’t read the sign, Tannen, I presume you can read this. He pats his rifle.

Buford: Pretty tough hombre when you’re pointin’ a scattergun at a man’s back.

Marshall: Just like you, Tannen, I take every advantage I can get. Now are you gonna check your iron?

Buford: Backing down. I was joking with your deputy. Of course I’m going to check my iron. We all were, weren’t we boys? Laughing. They give all their guns up.

Deputy: Yeah. Right.

Deputy: Tannen…your knife, too.

Buford: Angered, he takes the knife that was concealed in his boot and throws it like a dart onto a table nearby. Then he faces the Marshall. Smile, Marshall. After all this is a party.

Marshall: Still not moving his gun. The only party I’ll be smilin’ at is the one that sees you at the end of a rope. Buford and the Marshall glare at each other.

Deputy: Finally extending his arm, inviting the gang in. Have fun.

Marshall: To a boy on horseback next to him whom we didn’t notice before. That’s how you handle them, son, never give them an inch. Maintain discipline at all times. Remember that word...discipline.

Boy: Solemnly. I will, Pa.

Seamus: Why, Mr. Eastwood. Nice to see ya. I see you got yourself some respectable clothes, lad. And a fine hat.

Marty: Yeah, well, a couple other people didn’t like the way the other one looked on me.

Maggie: Sure that one suits you Mr. Eastwood. Very good for you.

Marty: Ahh...thanks. He has finished the pie and checks out the writing on the bottom of the plate. Hey…Frisbee. Far out. He grins and exits.

Seamus: What was the meaning of that?

Maggie: It was right in front of him.

Seamus: Aye.

Buford: A growling sound is heard instead of a normal questioning voice. Where?

Gang Member: Right there. Points upward towards Doc and Clara. Dancing with that piece of calico.

Gang Member #2: What are ya gonna do, boss?

Buford: His voice growing dark. I figure…I’ll bury this muzzle deep enough in his back, nobody’ll hear the shot.

Gang Member: Careful, Buford, you only got the one bullet with that.

Buford: I only need one.

Buford: I told you to watch your back, Smithy.

Doc: Trying to maintain composure. Tannen. But you’re early. Obviously he hadn’t considered the possible factor that he wasn’t killed right away after the shot.

Buford: It’s a Derringer, Smithy. Small but effective. Last time I used it the fella took two days to die. Bled to death inside, it was real painful. Gang laughs. That means you’d be dead by about suppertime Monday.

Clara: Interrupting. I don’t know who you think you are, but we’re dancing.

Buford: Notices Clara seemingly for the first time. Well looky what we have here…introduce me to the lady; I’d like a dance.

Doc: Turning around to face Tannen with a brave and determined look on his face. Now Buford moves the gun barrel to his throat. I wouldn’t give you the pleasure; you’ll just have to go ahead and shoot.

Buford: Alright.

Clara: Sensing very obvious danger. No, Emmett. I’ll dance with him.

Buford: Boys, keep the blacksmith company while I get acquainted with the fil. He pushes Doc aside and his gang members take ahold of each of his arms. Doc has a very restrained and angered look on his face as Buford begins dancing with Clara, much like Marty’s reaction in Back to the Future I when Biff attacks Marty’s mother in the car at the dance. WOO…HA HA HA! YEAH. OOOH.

Clara: I don’t dance very well when my partner has a gun in his hand.

Buford: Holding her very close and very disgustingly. Well, you’ll learn. In a louder voice. You know, Smithy, I may just take my $80 worth outta her. Doc struggles to be let go to save his beloved Clara. WOO…HAHAHA! YEAH. To Clara. I bet there’s somethin’ you can do that’s worth $80.

Clara: I’m afraid you’ve underestimated me, Mister.

Buford: Very gullibly. Have I now?

Doc: Stop it! Damn you, Tannen!

Buford: No, I damn you. He draws his gun and aims at Doc. Marty, from the banquet table (the little pig) finally sees what’s going on and his eyes open wide. He grabs the Frisbee plate. I damn you to hell!

Buford: You!

Marty: Stepping down from the banquet table, through the crowd and toward Tanen. Hey, lighten up, jerk!

Buford: Mighty strong words, runt! You man enough to back that up with more than just a pie plate?!

Marty: Backing down a little. Look, just leave my friends alone. He starts walking away.

Buford: What’s wrong, dude, you yella? Marty pauses in mid-step and turns slowly to face Tannen. That’s what I thought. Yellow belly.

Marty: Nobody... calls me yellow.

Buford: Let’s finish it...right now.

Gang Member #1: Uh, not now, Buford…Marshall’s got our guns.

Buford: Undaunted. Well, like I said, we’ll finish this tomorrow.

Gang Member #2: Tomorrow we’re robbin’ the Pine City Stage.

Buford: How ‘bout Monday? We doin’ anything on Monday?

Gang Member #3: No, Monday be fine... you can kill him on Monday.

Buford: Quickly turning to face Marty. I’ll be back this way on Monday. We’ll settle this then. He points a finger in a direction. Right there out in the street, in front of the Palace Saloon.

Marty: A little uncomfortably. Yeah, right, well, when? Sarcastically. High noon?

Buford: Noon? I do my killin’ before breakfast. Seven o’clock!

Marty: Obviously is very uncomfortable with this situation. He clears his throat. Eight o’clock. Again gaining confidence. I do my killin’ after breakfast.

Doc: Marty...no. Clara looks at him then and he casually changes his expression to smiling and stops talking to Marty.

Marshall: Alright now, break it up. What’s all this about…you causing trouble here, Tannen?

Buford: No trouble, Marshall. Just a little personal matter between me and Eastwood. Marty looks away in exasperation. He obviously thinks this is a little retarded. This don’t concern the law.

Marshall: Without hesitation. Tonight everything concerns the law – now break it up. Any brawlin’, there’s fifteen days in the county jail. He lowers his gun and changes his tone to address the crowd. Come on, this is a party! Come on, let’s have some fun!

Buford: 8:00, Monday... you ain’t here, I’ll hunt you and shoot you down like a duck.

Gang Member #1: It’s dawg, Buford. Shoot ‘im down like a dawg.

Buford is obviously upset that his tough-guy image has been shattered by his stupidity: Let’s go, boys! Let these sissies have their party!

Doc: Marty, what are you doing, saying you’re going to meet Tannen??

Marty: Doc, don’t worry about it! Monday morning, 8 AM. We’re gonna be gone, right?

Doc: Theoretically, yes, but what if the train’s late??

Marty obviously has not thought of this before and is taken aback: Late??

Doc: We’ll discuss this later.

Marty: No, we’ll discuss this now...late?

Clara: Thank you for your gallantry, Mr. Eastwood.

Marty loves the attention and tries to be modest: No, hey, ma’am.

Clara: Had you not interceded, Emmett might have been shot!

Doc: Marty...uh, Clint...I’m going to take Clara home.

Man: You sure set him straight, Mr. Eastwood. I’m glad somebody finally got the gumpton to stand up to that son-of-a-bitch.

Man #2: You’re alright in my book, Mr. Eastwood…I’d like to buy you a drink.

Marty is not accustomed to all this attention and he faces both men: Hey, look, I don’t want a drink. It was no big deal. He starts to move in closer, obviously, to begin describing what he did, but there is a tap on his back. It’s the Colt Gun Salesman, holding out a Colt Peacemaker and a gun-belt.

Colt Gun Salesman: Young man, young man…I’d like you to have this brand new Colt Peacemaker and gun belt, free of charge!

Marty takes the gun and belt: Free?

Colt Gun Salesman: I want ever’-body to know that the gun that shot Buford Tannen was a Colt Peacemaker. He accentuates the words "Colt Peacemaker" to make them sound magnificent.

Marty: Hey, hey, thanks. Studying the gun and belt.

Colt Gun Salesman: Of course, you understand that if you lose…I’m taking it back. He smiles and walks away.

Marty stares between the gun and the salesman moving into the distance for a moment before thinking of something to say: Thanks again.

Seamus: You had him, Mr. Eastwood! You could have just walked away, and nobody would o’ thought the less o’ ya for it. All it would have been was words… hot air from a buffoon. Marty looks away with an obvious air of "I-don’t-need-this." Instead you let him rile ya…rile ya into playing his game, his way, playing his rules.

Marty: Seamus, relax, I know what I’m doing.

Maggie: He reminds me of poor Martin.

Seamus: Aye.

Marty: Who?

Seamus: Me brother.

Marty is obviously stunned. Somebody else shared his name in the family?: Wait a minute…you have a brother named Martin McFly? They stop walking.

Seamus: Had a brother. His voice takes on an explaining air and Marty resumes the "I-don’t-need-this" expression. Martin used to let men provoke him into fighting. He was concerned people would think him a coward if he refused. That’s how he got a bowie knife shoved through his belly in a saloon in Virginia City. Never considered the future, poor Martin, God rest his soul.

Maggie: Sure’n hope your considerin’ the future, Mr. Eastwood. She and William, whom she is holding in her arms, follow Seamus.

Marty looks after them: I think about it all the time.

Clara: And that crater in the middle northwest, out there all by itself like a starburst?

Doc: Uh-huh.

Clara: That one’s called Copernicus. She laughs. Listen to me, I feel like I’m teaching school!

Doc: Oh, please, continue your lesson. He laughs. I never found lunar geography so fascinating. You’re quite knowledgeable.

Clara: When I was 11, I had diphtheria. I was quarantined for three months, so my father bought me this telescope and put it next to my bed so I could see everything out my window. She pauses for a moment, looking up at the stars. Emmett, do you think we’ll ever be able to travel to the moon, like we travel across the country on trains?

Doc smiles and answers with assuredness: Definitely, although not for another 84 years and not on trains. We’ll have space vehicles ... capsules to sail off in rockets – devices that create giant explosions...explosions that are so…powerful that they...

Clara finishes his sentence quite calmly: ...they break the pull of the earth’s gravity and send their projectile through outer space. Doc looks at her in wonder. Clara just laughs. Emmett...I read that book too. You’re quoting Jules Verne, From The Earth To The Moon.

Doc: In obvious quiet excitement. You’ve read Jules Verne?

Clara: I adore Jules Verne.

Doc: So do I. 20,000 Leagues Under The Sea, my absolute favorite. The first time I read that when I was a little boy I wanted to meet Captain Nemo and…

Clara: Laughing. Please, Emmett…you couldn’t have read that when you were a little boy, it was only first published ten years ago.

Doc: Pretends to look confused. Oh, yes, well…I meant it made me feel like a boy. He pauses and sees that this is a satisfactory answer. I never met a woman who liked Jules Verne before.

Clara: I never ever…met a man like you before.

Man #1: Hey, good morning, Mr. Eastwood!

Marty: Morning.

Man #2: Have a cigar, Mr. Eastwood. Anything I can do for you today, Mr. Eastwood?

Marty: No, no, it’s… fine.

Man #3 is riding by in a carriage with his family: Good luck tomorrow, Mr. Eastwood! We’ll be prayin’ for ya!

Marty: Calling back. Thanks.

The Undertaker has a striking resemblance to the scary-looking member of Limp Bizkit who plays guitar (not Fred Durst): Good morning, Mr. Eastwood. Interest you in a new suit for a tomorrow?

Marty: Ah, I’m…I’m fine. Thanks.

Marty: Doc. What are you doing?

Doc: Stops sniffing. Oh, nothing...just out enjoying the morning air. It’s really lovely here in the morning, don’t you think?

Marty: Yeah, it’s lovely Doc. Listen, we gotta load the DeLorean; we gotta get ready to roll alright…hey look at that, the tombstone. He suddenly spots freshly carved tombstones in front of a shop waiting to be engraved.

Doc: Marty, let me see that photograph again. Marty hands it to him and Doc looks at it, walking toward the camera with his back to the actual tombstones. He sighs. My name…it’s vanished.

Marty: Hey, that’s great Doc! Don’t you get it – we’re going back to the future tomorrow, so everything’s bein’ erased!

Doc: But only my name is erased! The tombstone itself and the date still remain. That doesn’t make sense. We know that this photograph represents what will happen if the events of today continue to run their course into tomorrow.

Marty: Right and so?

Undertaker: Comes on suddenly and pulls a measuring tape from Marty’s shoulder to his feet. Excuse me, Mr. Eastwood, I just need to take your measurement.

Marty: Hey, look, pal, I don’t want to buy a suit!

Undertaker: Laughs. No, this is for your coffin.

Marty: My coffin?!

Undertaker: Well, the odds are running two to one against you. He pulls the measuring tape back to its original position and makes a choking motion with his hand against his own throat. Might as well be prepared. He exits.

Doc: So…it may not be my name that’s supposed to end up on that tombstone. It may be yours.

Marty continues walking away from the tombstone and then stops, with his hand to his forehead: Great Scott!

Doc assumes a position behind Marty’s shoulder: I know, this is heavy. Marty and Doc start walking in the original direction Marty had been in at the beginning of the scene. Marty, why are wearing that gun? You’re not considering running against Tannen tomorrow!

Marty: Doc, tomorrow morning I’m going back to the future with you. But if Buford Tannen comes looking for trouble I’m going to be ready for him. You heard what that son-of-a-bitch called me last night.

Doc: Marty, you can’t go losing your judgment every time someone calls you a name! That’s exactly what causes you to get into that accident in the future.

Marty: Suddenly stops in his tracks and turns. What? What about my future?

Marty: Wait a minute, Doc…what is wrong with my future?!

Doc: Calmly. Marty…we all have to make decisions that affect the course of our lives. You’ve gotta do what you’ve gotta do. And I’ve gotta do what I’ve gotta do.

Marty: Yeah?

Doc: I’ve made a decision. I’m not going with you tomorrow. I’m staying here.

Marty: Slowly, then defiantly. What are you talkin’ about, Doc?!

Doc: There’s no point in denying it. I’m in love with Clara.

Marty: Oh man. Doc, we don’t belong here! Neither one of us! You know it could still be you that gets shot tomorrow! He puffs his chest out and points at it, then takes out the photograph of the tombstone from his pocket and stuffs it in Doc’s face. This tombstone could still be in your future!

Doc: Marty…the future isn’t written. It can be changed; you know that! Anyone can make their future whatever they want it to be. I can’t let this one little photograph determine my entire destiny. I have to live my life according to what I believe is right… in my heart.

Marty: Sighing. Doc…you’re a scientist. So you tell me. What’s the right thing to do, up here?? He points to his own forehead.

Doc sighs and pauses: You’re right, Marty.

Marty: Wow, that worked great.

Doc: I’ve at least gotta tell her goodbye.

Marty: C’mon…Doc…I mean, think about it…what are you gonna say to her, I gotta go back to the future?? I mean, she’s not gonna understand that, Doc. How long I been with ya and I don’t even understand it?? He pauses as Doc sighs. Doc. Listen. Maybe we could…I dunno, maybe we could just take Clara with us.

Doc: To the future? He pauses. You’ve reminded me, Marty, I’m a scientist so I must be scientific about this. I cautioned you about disruption of the continuum for your own personal benefit; therefore I must do no less. We will proceed as planned, and as soon as we return to 1985 we’ll destroy this infernal machine. Traveling through time has become much too painful.

Clara: Oh, Emmett, won’t you come in?

Doc: No…I better not. I…

Clara: What’s wrong?

Doc: I’ve come to say goodbye.

Clara: Goodbye? Well, where ya goin’?

Doc: I’m going away…and I’m afraid I’ll never see you again.

Clara: Emmett…

Doc: Clara…I want you know that I care about you deeply, but I realize that I don’t belong here, and I have to go back to where I came from.

Clara: And where might that be?

Doc: …I can’t tell you.

Clara: Well, wherever you’re going, take me with you!

Doc: I can’t, Clara. I wish it didn’t have to be this way…but just believe me when I say that I’ll never forget you and that…I love you.

Clara: I don’t understand what you’re trying to say.

Doc: Clara…I don’t think there’s anyway that you can understand it.

Clara: Please, Emmett, please…I have to know. If you sincerely do love me…then tell me the truth.

Doc: All right then. I’m from the future. Clara looks at him in disbelief. I came here in a time machine that I invented and tomorrow I have to go back to the year 1985.

Clara: Clara’s face changes to a look of certainty. Yes, Emmett, I do understand. Doc looks relieved, but Clara slowly clenches her teeth and menacingly steps toward him. I understand that because you know I’m partial to the writings of Jules Verne you concocted those mendacities in order to take advantage of me! She slaps Doc on the cheek. Oh, I’ve heard some whoppers in my day but the fact that you’d expect me to entertain a notion like that is so…insulting and degrading! She turns back toward her door. All you had to say is "I don’t love you and I don’t want to see you anymore." That at least would’ve been respectful! She slams the door.

Doc: Staring after her. But that’s not the truth!

Doc: No, Chester, I’m gonna need something a lot stronger than that tonight.

Bartender: Certainty in his voice. Sarsaparilla.

Doc: Whiskey, Chester.

Bartender stares at him in wonder: Whiskey…Emmett, are you sure? You know what happened to you on the fourth of July…

Doc: Whiskey.

Bartender: Taking out the bottle. Okay, I ain’t your papa. He pours some in a small shot glass. I just don’t wanna see you…losing the whole thing.

Doc stops the Bartender from moving to put the bottle back: You can leave the bottle.

Bearded Man: It’s a woman, right? I knew it! I have seen that look on a man’s face a thousand times, all across the country. Well I can tell you, friend. You’ll get over her.

Doc: Oh-ho. Clara was one in a million. One in a billion. One in a googolplex. The woman of my dreams and I lost her for all time.

Bearded Man: I can assure you, sir, there are other women. I have peddled this barbed wire all across the country, and it has taught me one thing for certain. It's that you never know what the future might bring.

Doc: Oh-ho…the future, I can tell you about the future.

Marty: Oh…oh, man, did I sleep…what time is it, Doc? He notices Doc isn’t there. Doc!

Gang Member #1: It’s still early, boss.

Gang Member #2: It’s still early!

Buford: I’m hungry.

Doc: …but in the future, we don’t need horses. We have horseless carriages called auto-mo-biles.

Old Timer: If everybody’s got one of these automo-whatsits, does anybody walk or run anymore?

Doc: Of course they run. But for recreation, for fun.

Old Timer: Run for fun? Ha-ha, what the hell kind of fun is that?

Bartender: None. That’s his first one and he hasn’t touched it, yet. He just likes to hold it.

Marty: Doc! Doc! He sees the glass. What’re you doin’?

Doc: I lost her, Marty. There’s nothing left of me here.

Marty: All right, so that’s why you’ve gotta come back with me.

Doc looks confused: Where?

Marty says in a what’s-wrong-with-you voice: Back to the future!

Doc speaks with a sudden conviction: Right. Let’s get going. He puts down his glass.

Marty: Great.

Doc: Gentlemen, excuse me, but my friend and I have to catch a train.

Old Timer: Here’s to ya, blacksmith. He raises his glass in salute.

Old Timer #2: And to the future! He raises his glass too.

Old Timer #3: Amen.

Doc: Amen. He raises his glass from the bar and puts his mouth to it.

Bartender: Emmett, no!!

Marty: Doc! Doc! Doc! C’mon, Doc, wake up, wake up, Doc. To Bartender. How many did he have?

Bartender: Just one.

Marty speaks in disbelief: Just one?! C’mon, Doc.

Bartender: There’s a feller that can’t hold his liquor.

Marty: Gimme some coffee… black.

Bartender: Joey, coffee!

Clara: How far does the 8:00 train go?

Clerk: San Francisco’s the end of the line.

Clara: I’ll take a one way ticket.

Bartender: You want to sober him up in a hurry, son, you’re gonna have to use something a lot stronger than coffee.

Marty: Yeah, what do you suggest?

Bartender smiles: Joey. Let’s make some wake up juice.

Bartender: In about ten minutes, he’s gonna be as sober as a priest on Sunday.

Marty: Ten minutes?! Looks at clock, sees it is now 7:50. Why do we have to cut these things so damn close?

Bartender walks over with the glass of liquid, a funnel and a clothespin: Here, stick this clothespin on his nose, and when he opens up his mouth, go ahead and pour it on down his throat. Marty begins to comply. Oh, and stand back.

Doc: WAHHHH!! HOT! HOT!

Marty: He’s still out!

Bartender, as they bring Doc back into the saloon: Oh, that, that was just a reflex action. It’s gonna take a few more minutes for the stuff to really clear up his head.

Marty: Perfect.

Bartender: Seamus. Wouldn’t expect to see you here this morning.

Seamus: Aye. But something inside me told me I should be ‘ere. I think my future had something to do with it.

Bartender: He’ll come around in a minute.

Marty: C’mon, Doc, c’mon…wake up, now, buddy, c’mon.

Voice: Are you in there, Eastwood? Marty looks up out the window which is on the other side of the room. Buford is outside, yelling into the saloon. It’s eight o’clock, and I’m calling you out.

Marty, stepping towards Buford cautiously, yelling through the closed window: It’s not 8:00 yet!

Buford: It is by my watch! Let’s settle this once and for all, runt. Or ain’t you got the guts?

Marty: Listen. I’m not really feeling up to this today. So I’m gonna have to forfeit!

Buford: Forfeit? Forfeit! He turns to one of his gang members. What’s that mean?

Gang Member: Uh…it means that you win without a fight.

Buford: Without shootin’? Hey, he cant do that. He starts yelling at Marty again. You can’t do that! Marty gulps again. You know what I think? Ah think you’re a gutless yella turd. And I’m giving ya to the count of 10 to come out here and prove I’m wrong. 1…

Marty quickly turns back to Doc: Doc!! C’mon, sober up, buddy, let’s go.

Buford: 2…

Old Timer: You better get out there son – I got $20 goin’ betting on ya so you can’t let me down.

Old Timer #2: I got $30 goin’ betting against you so don’t let ME down.

Buford: 3...4...

Old Timer #3: You better face up to it son, because if you don’t go out there...

Buford: 5...

Marty: What? What if I don’t go out there?

Old Timer: You’re a coward!

Buford: 6...

Old Timer #2: And you’ll be branded a coward for the rest of your days!

Old Timer #3: Ever’ body, ever were, will say Clint Eastwood is the biggest yeller belly in the west.

Buford: 7...

Man: Here...He slides a gun across the table.

Buford: 8...

Marty: I already got a gun. He passes it back to the man.

Buford: 9...

Buford: 10! You hear me, runt? I said that’s ten, you gutless yella pie slinger.

Marty shrugs suddenly: He’s an asshole! I don’t care what Tannen says! And I don’t care what anybody else says either.

Doc: Whoa!

Marty: Doc, Doc, you okay??!!

Doc: I think so…whoa, what a headache!

Marty to Bartender: Listen, you got a back door to this place?

Bartender: Yeah, it’s in the back.

Marty: C’mon, Doc, let’s go. They start heading out.

Buford: Are you comin’ out here, runt, or do I have to go in there after ya?

Doc: The thing I really miss here is Tylenol.

Gang Member: Hey! Marty instantly jumps away. Freeze blacksmith!

Buford: Listen up, Eastwood! I intend to shoot somebody today and I’d prefer it to be you. But if you’re just too damn yella, I guess it’ll just have to be you’re blacksmith friend.

Doc: Forget about me, Marty, and save yourself!

Buford: You got one minute to decide. You hear me runt? One minute!

Bearded Man: I never seen a man so broken up over a woman. What’d you say her name was? Cara? Sara?

Man next to Bearded Man: Clara?

Bearded Man: Clara!

Clara: Excuse me.

Bearded Man: Ma’am.

Clara: But was this man tall, with great big brown puppy dog eyes and long silvery flowing hair??

Bearded Man: You know him?

Clara: Spins around. Emmett!

Voice of Marty: Right here, Tannen!

Buford: Draw!

Marty: No! Buford stares at him. He throws his gun and belt down, gulping. I thought we could settle this like men.

Buford: After a pause. You thought wrong, dude. He shoots and Marty falls to the ground.

Buford: Ahh, thank ya.

Seamus: Chuckles slightly. That was good.

Gang Member: You know what I think? I think Buford’s going to jail.

Gang Member #2: You’re right.

Deputy Marshall: Get him out of that shit. Get them! He indicates the escaping criminals, and his officers gallop away in pursuit. The Mayor points his long rifle at Buford’s head.

Deputy Marshall: Buford Tannen, you’re under arrest for robbing the Pine City Stage. You got anything to say?

Buford slowly spits out two mouthfuls of manure: I hate manure.

Doc: Look! He indicates the split tombstone and Marty immediately whips out the photo, from which the image of the tombstone vanishes.

Marty: YES!

Doc: The train!

Marty: Can we make it?

Doc: We’ll have to cut it off at coyote pass!

Little Boy: Hey Mister...Mr. Eastwood. Here’s your gun, Mister. The little boy gives the gun to Marty.

Marty: Thanks, kid. He spots his great-great-grandfather standing in front of the saloon. Seamus grins and rolls his hands into fists, faking a punch to show that he saw what Marty did. Seamus! Marty throws the gun and the belt at him. Worth $12, never been used.

Seamus: Maybe I’ll trade it for a new hat.

Marty: Right, and take care of that baby! He rides off with Doc toward the trains.

Seamus calls after him: I will!

Clara: Emmett! Emmett! Emmett! She stops and studies the model of the railroad. She picks up the wooden futuristic automobile and reads the words printed on it. ...Time machine...

Doc: C’mon Marty!

Marty: Ah! Ah!

Doc: Ah, gimme your hand!

Marty: Ahhh! Whoa! Whoa! Ahh!

Marty: Whoa!

Doc: Hoo! C’mon, Marty!

Marty: Ahhhhh!

Doc: C’mon, let’s go! Masks on.

Doc: Freeze! He and Marty are holding guns.

Engineer: Is this a holdup? He holds his hands up.

Doc, after he and Marty look at each other: It’s a science experiment! Stop the train before you hit the switch track up ahead.

Marty: Doc! He holds his hand up after doing something to the tracks.

Doc, pointing a gun at the engineer and his assistant giving them directions: Uncouple the cars from the tender.

Doc: I’ve wanted to do that my whole life!

Doc: My own version of Presto Logs. Compressed wood with anthracite dust chemically treated to make the fire burn hotter and longer. I use them in my forge. These three will light the fire sequentially, make the fire burn hotter, kick up the boiler pressure and make the train go faster.

Clara: Hiyah! She starts moving again.

Clara: EMMETT!

Doc, into walkie-talkie: Marty. are the time circuits on?

Marty, into walkie-talkie: Check, Doc.

Doc, into walkie-talkie: Input the destination time – October 27, 1985, 11 AM.

Marty, into walkie-talkie: We’re cruising at a steady 25 miles an hour, Doc.

Doc, into walkie-talkie: I’m throwing in the Presto Logs.

Doc, into walkie-talkie: Marty, the new gauge will show the boiler temperature. Inside the DeLorean Marty looks at the new device Doc has installed. The color coding indicates when each log will fire. Green, yellow, and red. Each detonation will be accompanied by a sudden burst of acceleration. Hopefully we’ll get up to 88 miles per hour before the needle hits two thousand.

Marty, into walkie-talkie: Right, what happens what it hits two thousand?

Clara has meanwhile caught up with the end of the train.

Doc, into walkie-talkie: The whole motor will explode.

Marty, into walkie-talkie: Perfect.

Marty, into walkie-talkie: Hey, Doc, we just hit 35!

Doc, into walkie-talkie: Okay, Marty, I’m coming aboard! He has begun climbing to the front of the train, where the DeLorean and the locomotive are connected.

Clara: Emmett!

Marty, staring at speedometer talking to himself: Come on, come on. He suddenly screams into the walkie-talkie. You better hold on to something, Doc, the yellow log’s about to blow!!!

Clara: Ahh! And, as the wind blows in her face, Golly.

Marty, into walkie-talkie: We just passed 40!

Clara, who has climbed into the driver’s seat of the locomotive: Emmett! Emmett! Emmett!

Marty, into walkie-talkie: He swings open the gull-wing door and shouts into the walkie-talkie while he openly looks at Doc for the first time. We just passed 45, Doc, go for it! He looks at the speedometer and mutters. Fifty.

Clara: Emmett!

Doc: He nearly screams with delight. Clara!

Clara: She shrugs and shouts in the din. I love you.

Marty, into walkie-talkie: Doc, Doc! What’s happening??

Doc, into walkie-talkie: It’s Clara, she’s on the train!

Marty: Clara! He sits back down in the DeLorean and speaks to himself. Perfect.

Doc, into walkie-talkie: She’s in the cab. I’m gonna go back for her.

Marty, into walkie-talkie: The windmill! Doc, the windmill! We’re goin’ past 60; you’ll never make it!

Doc, into walkie-talkie: Then we’ll have to take her back with us! Keep calling out the speed! Doc turns to Clara and shouts to her. Clara, climb out here to me!

Clara: I don’t know if I can!

Doc: You can do it! Just don’t look down…that’s it! Clara slowly makes her way out of the cab.

Marty, into walkie-talkie: Sixty miles an hour, Doc!!

Doc: To Clara. You’re doing fine! Nice and steady! Come on! Just a little further! All the while Clara is edging closer and closer to him, climbing on the edge of the train.

Clara: I can’t Emmett, I’m scared!

Marty, into walkie-talkie: SEVENTY!

Doc: Come on…you’re doing fine…nice and easy…that’s it…don’t look down…

Marty, into walkie-talkie: DOC! THE RED LOG’S ABOUT TO BLOW!!!

Doc: Clara!!

Doc: Whoa!!

Clara: Emmett!

Doc: Clara! Hold on!

Clara: I can’t! She screams in desperation; she’s hanging upside down with her dress ripping.

Marty, into walkie-talkie: Doc! I’ll gonna slip you the hoverboard.

Doc: Marty! Watch out!

Marty: Ahhh!!!

Clara: AHHH!! AHH! EMMETT, HELP!

Doc: Hold on, Clara! Whoo!

Marty, into walkie-talkie: Doc! Catch it!

Doc: Whoa! His feet land on the board.

Marty: He observes. YES! YES!

Clara: Emmett!

Doc: Hold on!

Random scream (I don’t know who): WHAHHH!

Marty: YES!

Marty: Well, Doc, it’s destroyed. He lifts his head. Just like you wanted.

Biff: Hey butthead! Get away from—

Marty: Watch it, Biff.

Biff: Marty! I – I didn’t mean to scare ya! I didn’t recognize you in those clothes!

Marty: What the hell are you doin’?

Biff: Uh...just puttin’ on the second coat now! He indicates Marty’s clothes. You goin’ cowboy, huh? He gives Marty a quick thumbs-up.

Dave: C’mon, guys, we’ll be late for brunch. He’s looking at his watch.

Linda: Come on, Dad, they won’t hold your reservations all day!

George: Lorraine, have you seen my glasses?

Lorraine: They’re in your suede jacket, honey. She is the first to notice her son. Marty. We thought you went to the lake.

Linda: You wore that to the lake?

Marty: Thank God you guys are all back to normal.

Dave: Hey Marty, who’re you supposed to be, Clint Eastwood?

Marty: Right. I gotta go get Jennifer. He gets into his truck.

Biff: I really like that hat, Marty.

Marty: As he starts the engine. Thanks, Biff.

Scene: Outside Jennifer’s house. Marty pulls up his truck and climbs out. Jennifer is still sleeping in the swinging bench (from the position he and Doc left her in during Back to the Future Part II).

Marty: Jennifer. Jen. Jennifer. Wake up.

Jennifer: Marty. She sits up and embraces him, and she changes her expression. I had the worst nightmare.

Jennifer: Marty, that dream I had was so real. It was about the future. It was about us…and you got fired.

Marty: What do you mean, I got fired? He reads the sign outside the car on Jennifer’s side. Hilldale. The word registers. Hilldale! This is where we live…I…I mean, this is, uh, this is where we’re gonna live. Someday. He smiles sheepishly.

Jennifer looks at him very strangely: Marty…it was a dream, wasn’t it?

Needles: Hey! The big "M". How’s it hanging, McFly?

Marty: Without looking at his archrival. Hey, Needles.

Needles: Nodding approvingly of Marty’s new truck. Nice set of wheels. Let’s see what she can do…next green light.

Marty: No thanks.

Needles: What’s the matter? Chicken?

Jennifer, grabbing Marty’s hand: Marty...don’t.

Marty: He pulls the mode lever back. Grab a hold of something.

Jennifer, slightly shocked: Did you do that on purpose?

Marty: Yeah. You think I was stupid enough to race that asshole?

Marty: Geez...I would’ve hit that Rolls Royce.

Jennifer: In an awed whisper. Erased.

Jennifer: You’re right. There’s not much left.

Marty: Doc’s never comin’ back. I’m sure gonna miss him, Jen. He picks up a torn piece of paper from the mess. It’s a picture, torn in half, of Doc at the clock tower in 1885, probably the one he took from 1955. The other half is missing…was it all just a dream?

Marty: What the hell?

Marty: Doc!

Doc: Marty!

Marty, getting excited: Doc! Doc!

Doc: Marty! It runs on steam! He opens the doors of the train and he and Clara stand in the "doorway". Meet the family. Clara, you know. Clara appears next to him.

Clara: Hi, Marty!

Marty: Ma’am!

Doc: These are our boys! Two young boys step into sight. One looks about ten, the other six or seven. Jules, and Verne! Boys, this is Marty and Jennifer.

Marty: Doc, I thought I’d never see you again!

Doc: Can’t keep a good scientist down. After all, I had to come back for Einstein, and I didn’t want you to be worried about me. Clara hands him something wrapped in brown paper. Oh. I brought you a little souvenir.

Marty: It’s great Doc. Thanks!

Jennifer: Doctor Brown? She takes out the Cusco FAX from her pocket, holding out for Doc to see. I brought this note back from the future and…now it’s erased!

Doc: Of course it’s erased!

Jennifer: But what does that mean?

Doc: It means that your future hasn’t been written yet. No one’s has. Your future is whatever you make it. So make it a good one. Both of ya!

Marty: Firmly, waving. We will, Doc!

Doc: Stand back! As the doors close: All right, boys, buckle up!

Marty: Hey, Doc…where ya goin’ now? Back to the future?

Doc: From the cab window, he shakes his head. Nope. Already been there! He waves at the two teenagers below.