Thursday, July 3, 1692
5:12AM
Marty woke up from someone gently shaking him, calling his name. At first he thought it was his mother, trying to rouse him for school. But when he opened his eyes, he could tell at once he was not in his bedroom at home. Next to him stood Amanda Goode, a lit candle in one hand. "Marty?" she said softly, still shaking his shoulder.
"Mmmmmmm," he muttered, rolling away from her to face the wall. "Go 'way." It was way too early to get up and besides, he had a bad headache. Probably from that cider last night, Marty realized at the back of his mind.
"Mother needs your help."
Marty pulled the pillow over his head. "I don't feel well," he mumbled. "I need more sleep."
There was a pause from Amanda, so long that Marty thought she had left the room and let him be. He was starting to doze again when she spoke.
"They took Emmett Brown," Amanda said. "I thought you might want to know."
Marty didn't understand what she said. He removed the pillow from his head and rolled over again, to face her. "What?"
"They took your old friend--ex-friend," Amanda corrected herself. "A few hours ago. He has been accused of practicing the Dark Arts."
"What?" Marty said again. "What are the Dark Arts?"
"Witchcraft," Amanda said quietly. "Mr. Brown stands accused of witchcraft."
Marty stared at her for a long moment, not saying anything. His tired, aching mind was struggling to process the news. "What does that mean?"
"Likely a death sentence," Amanda said. She set the candle down on the desk next to the bed, sitting down in the desk's chair. "He is to be put before a jury tomorrow, and they will decide if he is a witch. If he is and confesses, then he will be freed. But should they find him a witch and he will not confess and redeem himself, he will be hanged within a week."
Marty sat up, wincing as the move worsened his headache. "Why do they think he's a witch?"
Amanda stared at him, a little coolly. "Mara Schaefer told them. She told her father what you told her about Mr. Brown, and then her father informed the Reverend, who told the Deputy Governer, who made out a warrant for his arrest."
Marty's headache grew worse as he tried to remember what he had said to Mara the night before. Did he let anything about time travel slip? I should've skipped that cider, he thought. Although Marty supposed he should be glad he hadn't had more than a couple of glasses! Otherwise he would be in a lot worse shape than a bad headache now. And I probably would have said a lot more than I did.
"Why does Mara think Doc's a witch?" Marty finally asked.
Amanda sniffed. "Well, she merely repeated what you had spoken to her. I know not if Mr. Brown is innocent or guilty, but even to my ears your words marked him of dancing with the Devil. If what you speak is truth, then he be a witch--I've no doubt. And if you speak lies, well...." A frown twisted Amanda's lips. "I can think of not a more despicable person than one that gets back at their enemies by false accusations of witchcraft!"
Marty swallowed hard under Amanda's chilly gaze. "Isn't there a third option?" he asked. "Like, maybe, you guys just completely misunderstood what I was saying?"
Amanda stood up, smoothing her skirt out. "The trial be tomorrow," she said. "If you have something to say that would defend Mr. Brown's reputation, I would take that moment to say it. But your silence will speak more than your words of accusation do."
Amanda headed for the door, pausing on the threshold. "Mother needs you to help with the breakfast chores," she said, then left.
Marty swung his legs over the side of the bed and leaned over, putting his head in his hands. What happened? Has the world gone insane? Ever since he had that fight with Doc, back in 1986, his whole life seemed like one endless nightmare! And now this! Marty had a terrible feeling in the pit of his stomach about the situation.
"God, I didn't really mean I never wanted to see him again!" Marty whispered, remembering the last words he had shouted to Doc. Though Marty still felt a little miffed at Doc, the shock of hearing the news of the scientist's imprisonment had really shaken him up. They had briefly studied the Salem witch trials in his high school history class, as well as reading "The Crucible" in English. He understood the gravity of the situation.
"This is all my fault," Marty groaned.
Doc Brown watched the first rays of daylight seep into the small cell in the Salem jail where he, and two others, were being held captive. As far as Doc knew, the others were accused of witchcraft as well. The two that shared the cell with him were both girls around Marty's age.
"Another day of betrayal," one of the teenaged girls murmured. Doc glanced over at her. She was slender and petite, with long wavy brown hair that hung free to her waist. Freckles were scattered across her face, making her look, at first glance, more girl than woman. But there was a hardness in her dark eyes that seemed much older than her physical years.
"What do you mean?" Doc asked after a moment. It was one of the first times he had heard someone speak since arriving in the cell, hours earlier.
The girl turned her eyes on Doc. "I've been here a fortnight now. They know not to do with me. They all think I'm evil--but I'm not. I'm misunderstood."
"I can sympathize," Doc said sincerely. "Have you been put on trial yet?"
"Aye," the girl said. "They convicted me." She hesitated for a moment before introducing herself. "I am Rilla Anderson. What be your name?"
"Emmett Brown. How is it that you came to be here?"
Rilla glanced out the barred window, set high in the wall. "I was found practicing a ritual to the forest spirits. They believed me a witch for my actions. Of that, I will not deny, but I do not dance with the Devil. I practice only good magic, not black."
Doc was a little surprised at her straightforward confession. "Did you say that at the trial?"
Rilla glanced away from the sky. "Aye. I am not ashamed of what I do and what I believe. If that means the death of me, so be it. I know that there is a life after this one, and those who have sentenced me to death in this one will be punished someday." Rilla paused, a smile turning up the corners of her month. "Anyhow, I still have time left on this earth. I am to have a baby in the fall, and they will leave me be until then. It would be a sin against their God to kill a woman who is with child, even one who they believe evil."
If Doc remembered correctly, by the time fall rolled around in Salem the hysteria over the witch trials would be over with. "Maybe you'll live longer than you think," he said.
At the optimistic words, Rilla looked at him in surprise, then narrowed her eyes. "Why are you here? I don't believe I have seen you before in Salem."
"I was just passing through," Doc admitted. "I'm not from around here. I was staying at the inn owned by the Goodes when an old friend of mine--who has a grudge against me--decided to frame me as a witch." Doc sighed wearily, still stunned that Marty had done something so cold to him.
Rilla nodded knowingly. "Tis terrible to see so much backstabbing with these trials! I think the Devil is loose in Salem now, but not in the form that everyone thinks!"
Rilla gestured to the other teenage girl in the cell, near the bench at the back. The other girl was shorter and stouter than Rilla, with long, curly auburn hair that looked very familiar to Doc. "That is Kezia Goode. I've not met a kinder soul, yet she be in here. Kezia is no witch, but Mara Schaefer was angered at her over something and decided to accuse her of the Dark Arts."
"Mara Schaefer," Doc muttered. "She's the same who told the authorities I was a witch!"
Rilla didn't look surprised. "Mara is evil in the purist form. She appears angelic and comes from well-respected roots, so no one would suspect her of the corruption that lies within."
"Why don't one of you accuse her of witchcraft?" Doc asked, puzzled.
"We have tried, but her family is powerful. Our accusations are ignored, and Mara is let be." A touch of sarcasm crept into Rilla's voice. "The village loves her--she's gathering all the 'witches' up!"
Their soft conversation was interrupted by footsteps approaching the cell. All faces turned towards the bars, waiting. A moment later a man Doc recognized as the jail keeper stepped into view. He eyed the captives in the cell with obvious unease.
"The soup is coming up soon," he said, standing a few feet away from the bars of the cell. "Can I trust you to behave?"
Rilla glanced at Doc, a mischievous smile sliding across her mouth. "Watch this," she murmured. She stepped forward, up to the bars. The jail keeper jumped back, startled. "You best not have potato soup again," she told the guard, eyes narrowed. "If I am to eat potato soup again, I think I shall turn you into a potato!"
The man staggered back, his face twisting in a look of pure terror, clutching his chest. Doc was afraid for a moment that the man was having a heart attack. He took a step forward, to intervene and stop what Rilla was doing, when the man seemed to recover. "No, Goody Anderson, potato soup is not what we have for your meal," he said, eyes closed. "We have tomato instead."
Rilla twisted a lock of hair around her finger, one hand on her hip. "That will do for today, but tomorrow we want something better--something like fresh bread."
"But Goody Anderson--"
Rilla abruptly grabbed hold of the bars of the prison and pressed her face between them, sneering. "Do it, or I shall make you wish you were never born!"
The jail keeper trembled, staring at Rilla in horror, then abruptly turned around and ran away from the cell.
"Why did you do that to him, Rilla?" Kezia Goode asked in a soft voice. "That wasn't very nice."
"As if he has been nice to us," Rilla scoffed, stepping away from the bars.
"You may not care if you are hanged, but some of us may," Kezia said.
Rilla straightened up and turned to face Kezia, her posture one of defiance. "You think me wrong, Kezia Goode. I am hurting as much as you may be. But I am proud of who I am and I stand by my beliefs. Even if they may brand me a witch."
Kezia shook her head sadly. "You may think you are being a martyr, Rilla, but you shouldn't need to die for your beliefs. Don't you wish to see your child grow?"
Rilla stared at Kezia unflinchingly. "My desires are a moot point now. Even if I was to repent, the people would be unforgiving. These are dark times in which we live."
The conversation kind of died with Rilla's words. Kezia looked away from Rilla, as if she couldn't bear to see her anymore. Rilla crossed the damp floor to the window, reaching up to place a hand in the early sunlight that was just outside the walls. Her expression was one of longing as she gazed up at the sky beyond the bars. Doc watched her a moment, then looked away himself, to the place where the jail keeper had been only moments before.
"These are dark times," he murmured in agreement with Rilla.
Marty stood on the fringes of the crowd, watching from a distance as the accused witches of Salem village were brought out. Doc was the third in the line, his hands in chains. He stared down at the ground as he was led to the center of the crowd, to the wooden posts set firmly in the ground. As Marty watched, Doc was tied roughly to one of the posts. The scientist looked up then, his eyes meeting Marty's across the crowd. Doc stared at him in silent accusation.
"It's out Christian duty to do away with these instruments of the Devil!" a man shouted out. The crowd cheered at the words, the whole thing striking Marty as similar to a sporting event of some sort. Then, a match was lit and tossed on a pile of hay that was heaped at the foot of all the posts. The hay caught almost immediately, snaking towards the first victim, a young woman. She started to scream as the crowd cheered louder. Doc's was the third post in the group.
"Doc," Marty whispered, his eyes wide in horror as the flame crept towards the inventor. He started to take a step forward, but was held back by Mara Schaefer.
"Leave the witch be," she advised. "You don't want him in your life anymore. Remember?"
"Marty!"
Marty turned. Clara Brown was hurrying towards him, her face pinched in fear. "You have to speak up! Emmett will die if you say nothing!"
Marty turned his head back to the spectacle in the middle of the crowd. The fire was inching closer to Doc. Mara touched his arm.
"Keep your mouth shut, unless you want me to say something about you!" she hissed. "I can have you up there before the week is up!"
Clara reached his side and grabbed his other arm, squeezing it hard. "Marty, you're not really mad at Emmett. You and he just had a little misunderstanding. If you both sit down and discuss this calmly, it can be worked out." Clara's fingers tightened hard enough to make Marty wince. "Don't let my husband die over this!"
There were fresh, shrill screams from the middle of the crowd. The second woman was going up in flames. Marty couldn't watch the gruesome sight, looking at Doc instead. His old friend was staring at Marty, calmly.
"Say nothing!" Mara snapped.
"Say something!" Clara urged.
Marty felt like he was in the middle of a human tug-of-war.
The fire reached Doc. Unlike the women, the future scientist didn't scream, though his face contorted in pain. Marty broke free of both Clara and Mara, stepping forward before the thickness of the crowd stopped him.
"Doc!" he shouted.
Doc stared at him, the flames fanning his face. Marty felt a sudden, crushing pain in his chest. The anger was gone. His eyes burned with tears.
"No, Doc! I'm sorry! I didn't mean it! I take it back! This isn't supposed to happen!"
Someone touched him from behind. Marty ripped his eyes from Doc's and saw Clara there, tears streaming down her face. "You are too late, Marty," she said softly. "Emmett's gone."
"No," Marty whispered.
"Yes," Mara said, smiling.
Marty glared at the real witch in the crowd through her tears. "Shut up! He's not gone, Doc's fine, I can save him, I have a time machine and you're the one who's going to burn--"
Marty's voice cracked and left him. Clara put an arm around him, giving him a hug. Marty clenched his eyes shut and buried his face in her shoulder, weeping silently at the injustice and pain of the situation.
How can this be happening? God, why did I have to lose my temper! If I could only take it all back--
Marty lifted his head up and opened his eyes.
Early morning sunlight streamed in through the window of his room at the Goode inn, spilling across the floor to his bed. Marty blinked, dazed at the sight.
Was it all a dream?
He reached up and touched his face, half expecting to feel the tears that had poured from his eyes in the dream. But his face--and eyes--were dry. Nevertheless, Marty felt emotionally drained. He lay back in bed, his heart still skipping unevenly from the dream.
It's Friday--Doc's trial is today.
Marty closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He wondered how Doc was holding up in the jail, not for the first time in the last 24 hours. He wasn't angry with Doc, not anymore. The shock of hearing of his capture had successfully drained him of that and made him feel only very, very sorry for what had happened between them. Marty's mind went back to the origins of the fight, back on that afternoon in late September.
No--it really started several weeks before then.
It was true that Doc probably had been taking advantage of his help. But, Marty realized, he should have told him so from the start, instead of letting things built up so long that they finally burst out of him with angry force. Had he sat down with Doc and told him honestly how he had felt, Marty was almost certain things wouldn't have escalated into a full-fledged fight. Doc probably would have appreciated his honestly and let up on his requests for help.
"But no, I just tried to pretend it didn't bug me," Marty muttered aloud. He wondered if it was at all possible to go back in time and change that, but knew it was a pipe dream. If he went back to the point Doc's requests in assistance had started to bug him--late August, if Marty remembered correctly--he could just imagine the disasters that might happen if he showed up on his doorstep to have a talk with himself to change his mind. Not to mention the paradoxes that would spiral from his time- altering. If he and Doc had never fought, Jennifer and Clara wouldn't have left them here, Doc wouldn't be accused of being a witch, so Marty would never have come up with such a plan to go back and change things in the first place!
Marty sighed and opened his eyes, feeling the beginnings of a nasty headache about to set in. There was only one thing he could do at this point, and he knew what it was.
"I've gotta get to that trial!"
Friday, July 4, 1692
11:10AM
Doc Brown sat in chains at the front of Salem's meeting hall. His back was to the large rustling audience of villagers, waiting for the trial to begin. He felt oddly calm, a part of him certain that this whole mess could be straightened out once he had the chance to get before the townspeople and explain his side of the story. But another, darker, side of him recalled the massive hysteria that had swept through the trials and how many innocent people had been sentenced to die because of it.
This particular trial may also have some adverse effects on the future, Doc realized uneasily. It would almost certainly be documented that one Emmett Brown was accused and put on trial as a witch.
A thin, wheezened man came up to the front of the room. The audience immediately grew quiet. "Please stand for Judge William Strickland."
Doc's eyes widened at the name. Oh, it couldn't be....
The man who entered the room then left no doubt. He bore a strong resemblance to the Stricklands that resided in Hill Valley and made life miserable for any "slackers." Doc wondered if it was a good or bad thing he had a Strickland for a judge, and couldn't come to a conclusion.
"The trial for Emmett Brown will begin," the thin man announced. "Brown was accused of the crime of witchcraft by Mara Schaefer. She claims that this stranger, who arrived in town on July the first, has been conducting unholy spells in the woods at night. In addition, he has seen fit to break the mirror in Goody Goode's inn, cursing the Goode's with bad luck. Already, Goody Goode has lost one cow to a mysterious fit."
The seven jurors seated at the front of the room, selected randomly from the church register, gazed coolly at Doc. They were made up of five men and two women, all middle-aged. The thin man looked at Doc. "Have you anything to say?"
Doc nodded and stood up, facing the jury instead of the townspeople at his back. "This is all a terrible misunderstanding," he insisted. "I have never ever practiced witchcraft in any way, shape, or form. I'm sure that if you allow me to explain, you will understand that."
Judge Strickland, seated in the front center of the room, remained grim-faced. "Be seated, Mr. Brown. May we hear the evidence, now?"
Theresa Goode stood up, seated in the third row from the front. "Mr. Brown shattered the mirror in my inn and cursed our house with black luck," she said in a shaking voice. "Our prize cow fell over dead for no reason yesterday. When we confronted Mr. Brown with his arrest, we discovered spells written down in his pocket."
Doc stood up. "I had nothing to do with any of that!" he objected.
Mara Schaefer stood. "Mr. Brown performs spells," she said. "He bewitched me earlier. I was filled with the urge to kill my father, but as I crossed the room to get a knife, my eyes fell upon the Bible and I came to my right mind." Mara shuddered. "He is a danger to us all."
Doc looked at the young woman, stunned at her words. Is Marty putting her up to this? "How can you say that?" he asked her.
In response, Mara winced, drawing back. "Oh no, no, stop that!" she cried.
"Stop what?" Doc asked, perplexed.
Mara stumbled backwards, shielding her eyes. "There's a light, a bright, bright light! He's trying to strike me blind! Oh, stop that!" Her voice rose up into a shriek.
A ripple of fear ran through the crowd, voices rising and falling. The judge banged a gavel a couple times. "Order!" he barked, then turned his eyes to Doc. "Stop this at once!"
"I'm not doing anything!" Doc insisted, holding up his chained hands in a gesture of proof. At the front of the room, Mara continued her exhibition.
"His spirit! I feel his spirit choking me!" she wailed, coughing. Mara fell backwards over the bench, her body wracked with convulsions. Panic ripped through the room. Another girl who had been sitting beside Mara, a short plump teen with glasses, started screaming.
"I see the Devil!" she shouted, pointing at Doc with a look of pure terror on her face. "I see the Devil with Mr. Brown! He's beaconing to me to follow!"
The stir in the crowd grew even louder. Judge Strickland, who looked more than a touch frightened, banged his gavel again. "Order! I demand order in this room!"
The noise taped off a bit, but the judge still had to shout to make himself heard over the crowd. "Has the jury reached a decision?"
The seven men and women huddled together for a moment, heads nodding among the group. After a moment, one stepped out of the group.
"We, the jury, find the defendant, Emmett Brown, gu--"
"Wait!"
All heads in the room turned towards the voice that had shouted out the command, including Doc's. He blinked in surprise at the source of the voice. It was Marty McFly.
Marty hurried to the front of the room, his eyes set on the judge and ignoring the stares that followed him. "This man is no more a witch than you or I!" he said firmly, stopping before the judge and jury. "This entire trial is a game to these people! There's no devil or spirts wandering around now! The only witches in this room are those girls over there who are pretending to see things that aren't there!"
Doc was stunned at Marty's words. What the hell is going on here?
There was a brief, heavy silence. Finally, Judge Strickland spoke. "Have you any proof, man?"
Marty nodded. "Yes," he said softly. "Do--Emmett Brown didn't break the mirror in the Goode's inn. I did."
There was another murmur through the crowd. Doc could see what was coming. "No, Marty," he whispered.
Strickland leaned forward, his eyes narrowed. "Are you saying that it was you who bewitched the Goode family?"
"No!" Marty cried, sounding insulted with the accusation. "Of course not! No one bewitched them. All that happened was I got a little mad at, uh, Dr. Brown and I hit the mirror. It broke. End of story."
The judge arched his eyebrows, glancing at Doc. " Dr. Brown?" he asked. "He is a doctor?"
"Of science," Marty said quickly, innocently. Doc sighed, rubbing his forehead. That's it. It's over.
The jurors exchanged looks. Then, from the front of the room, came an unearthly shriek. "No! I tell you, I won't!"
Doc turned around. Mara was back on her feet, her hands pressed to her mouth and backing up to the wall. "Help me, someone!"
Amanda Goode, who had been hovering near the front of the room, asked the question. "What has you, Mara?"
Mara pointed to Marty, on the other side of the room. "He's speaking to me!"
"No, I'm not," Marty said, frowning.
"No!" Mara cried. "I won't do it! You cannot make me kill them! You hear!" She pressed herself up against the wall, shaking.
"What are you hearing?" Judge Strickland asked.
"His voice," Mara said in a trembling voice. "He is telling me to do unspeakable things to my family! He's in my mind!"
Marty put his hands on his hips and glared at Mara. "I'm doing nothing like that! Stop pretending!"
Mara didn't appear to hear him. Her eyes were fixed up, on the ceiling beams. Everyone's eyes followed her gaze. There was nothing up there but dust and cobwebs, but Mara spoke to the empty air, as if she did see something. "Oh, no, no, you are evil, aren't you! I will not stab my family! I love them! Take your evil ways and begone!" Her voice ended in a sob and she clutched her head with her hands.
Marty narrowed his eyes at Mara and took a step towards her. "You lying little witch! Why are you doing this?"
Mara moaned. "Help me, oh sweet Jesus, help me!" She suddenly keeled over and lay on the ground, still and unmoving. A few women rushed to her side while panic once again gripped the room.
"He's a witch as well!" someone shouted out from the back of the room. "He just struck down Mara!"
Doc could feel the hysteria building in the air, ready to carry the townspeople away. Marty instantly defended himself against the accusation.
"I am not a witch!" he protested. "Can't you see that Mara was just acting? How can you believe what she says? You don't have any proof!"
"Oh, I believe we do," the judge said. "You admitted to shattering the Goode's mirror, cursing them with poor luck."
"I said I broke the mirror, but I didn't say anything about cursing them!" Marty cried. "My God! This is America! I thought people were innocent until proven guilty!"
"I know not where you think you are, but this is the Massachusetts Bay Colony, not 'America,'" the judge said sternly. "And here, we decide upon the evidence presented who is guilty and who is not."
"He's a witch, that he be!" one of the women in the jury cried. "I saw his arrival in town!"
Marty and Doc both froze at the words. Doc's mind reeled at the thought of someone having seen the time machines. We'll be dead for sure if that's the case!
"Have you now, Goody Nelson?" Judge Strickland asked.
Goody Nelson nodded vigorously. "Aye. He was wearing strange garments that I've not seen the likes of before. The Devil's clothing, to be sure."
The judge looked at Marty. "Where are these garments now? Have you them still?"
Marty looked distinctly uncomfortable with the question. "I don't know what my clothes have to do with any of this."
"What is your name?" Strickland wanted to know.
Marty looked at Doc, his eyes wide with the question. Doc answered for him. "His name is Martin McFly."
The judge glanced over at Doc, startled. In all the chaos, the man seemed to have forgotten the original reason he had been there--to try Doc. "Do you know this lad?"
There was no point in denying the obvious. "Yes. I've know him for years."
Judge Strickland mulled this over for a moment, then surveyed the room. The townspeople had quieted down a bit, but Doc could still see Mara lying on the ground, continuing her swoon. "Has the jury reached a decision on Emmett Brown?"
"Aye, your honor," one of the men in the jury said. "We find him guilty of witchcraft and recommend him to hang in three days at sunset."
Doc closed his eyes briefly at the news, though he was not really surprised.
"And what of young Martin McFly?" the judge asked.
"Hey, wait a minute!" Marty said. "I wasn't even given a trial! You can't just now decide if I'm guilty or innocent! I never even got a chance to tell my side of the story!"
Judge Strickland looked at Marty with contempt. "You have told your side of things already with the mirror. We have seen what you did to Mara. It is now up to the jury to decide what course of action we should take."
"For the last time, I didn't do anything to Mara!" Marty cried. "You don't have any proof that I did anything to her."
"We have her word, which is as good as any proof you may be able to show us otherwise," the judge said. "Jury?"
"Guilty," the man said, all heads nodding in agreement. "He should hang with Brown on the seventh."
Marty sputtered at the sentence. "But I didn't do anything! It's her word against mine!"
"Mara Schaefer is one of the most upstanding young women in this community," the judge said sternly. "Why would we believe your poor excuses over her obvious evidence?"
Marty stood very still, his jaw working but no words coming out. A man from the jury started to advance on him, chains in his hands. Marty noticed him after a moment and a wild look came in his eye. He looked as if he was going to take off running. Doc caught his eye and shook his head ever so slightly. Don't do it, he thought. If Marty tried escaping, they might kill him on the spot.
Marty understood the message. His shoulders slumped, the color draining from his face as he resigned himself to the inevitable. The man placed chains around Marty's wrists and lead him towards the exit. Doc got up to follow, one of the jailkeepers trailing after him with a rifle to ensure he wouldn't try escaping either. As they walked by Mara, who was starting to stir amid whimpers and moans, one woman made the sign of the cross.
No one spoke as they were led through the nearly deserted streets. Those who were outside looked at them in fear, if they looked at all. They're not looking at us not only out of fear, but because of their guilt in sentencing us to this fate, Doc though. How many had died needlessly before the hysteria had spent itself? He was pretty sure the number was around 20.
But Doc hadn't given up--far from it! His mind was already working hard for an angle out of the mess.
It's not over with yet!
Friday, July 4, 1692
11:59AM
Marty felt a peculiar mix of emotion as he and Doc were led into a jail cell. On one hand, he was scared and uneasy about the prospect of being hung on Monday--and more than a little mad at Mara Schaefer! But on the other hand, he felt as if a million pounds had been lifted off his shoulders. He had done what needed to be done--tell the courtroom how foolish they were, thinking Doc was a witch.
Unfortunately, that didn't change much, he thought glumly. I wonder if things would've been different if they hadn't had a Strickland for a judge?
They were put in an empty jail cell. The men who had lead them there took a moment to unchain their hands, then locked them behind the bars. They took care not to meet the eyes of either Doc or Marty. Though Doc didn't appear to notice or care, Marty noticed, and it made him incredibly mad!
"I don't believe this!" he exclaimed when the two men had left. "This is insane! Why do they think we're witches?"
Doc sat down on one of the benches with a sigh. "You started this," he said, a bit coolly. "You should know."
Marty whirled around. "I did not!" he retorted. "I didn't have anything to do with this!" He stopped, suddenly realizing something. "You think I accused you of being a witch?" he asked softly.
"Yes, I do," Doc said, just as quietly. "You broke the mirror to frame me. You told Mara something about me to cause her to think I was a witch."
Marty let out a long sigh, sitting down at the other end of the bench. "Look, I didn't set you up," he said. "Not on purpose, anyway. I might've said some things to Mara, but that was the cider talking mostly. And I was mad. I didn't think this would happen." Marty gestured to their grim surroundings.
"The mirror?" Doc asked.
"The mirror," Marty repeated. His face reddened as he remembered that part. "Well, uh, what I said at the trial was the truth. I was mad at you and I just slammed a first into it without thinking." Marty stood up again and started pacing around the cell. "Christ, Doc, you thought I set you up?"
"I'm sure you would think the same if you had been in my place," Doc said.
Marty sighed again, staring down at the ground. "Maybe this is being said a little late, but, uh, well...." He swallowed hard, then plunged ahead. "I'm sorry."
Doc was silent for a long time after the words. Marty finally looked up, wondering why the scientist was so quiet. Doc was staring at him, frowning.
"Did you hear what I said?" Marty asked softly. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I got mad at you like that and lost my temper. I'm sorry I said the things I did. I--I didn't mean them." His voice grew lower and lower as he spoke, until he was nearly whispering the words.
Doc still didn't say anything. Marty went on, unable to take the silence in the room. "It really bugged me when you got arrested. I mean, maybe I did have something to do with it--indirectly. I had a horrible dream last night that they killed you by burning you at the stake for being a witch and Clara was there, begging me to say something--"
"They wouldn't do that," Doc said softly. "They only burned people at the stake in England. They hung witches here."
Marty blinked. "Oh. Well, still. I knew then I wasn't mad at you anymore, not really."
Doc's frown deepened. "Why were you mad at me in the first place? I'm afraid I'm a little lost on that."
Marty walked over to the bars and peered through them, seeing an empty hallway outside the jail cell. "I just wished you would start asking me to help you again instead of expecting me to."
"I thought I was," Doc said.
Marty bit his lip, wondering if he should say what he wanted to. "No, you weren't Doc. Maybe your expecting me to help out just wasn't a big deal before then. I had the time, and I really did want to. I liked doing that. But when you came to me in August, when Jules and Verne vanished--"
"It was an emergency," Doc said shortly. "God, Marty, my children were missing!"
"Yeah, I can understand that," Marty assured him. "But afterwards, when you pulled me along on that dinosaur trip...." Marty turned around, looking Doc straight in the eye. "That bothered me. A lot."
Doc opened his mouth to say something, but Marty rushed ahead, before he could lose his nerve to finish his side of things. "I had spent weeks planning that night. It was Jennifer's first night home, and the only thing I wanted to do was spend time with her. I hadn't seen her in two months. Do you know how long that felt for me? It was one thing for you to come to me about the kids missing. But to turn around and practically force me to go back there with you and get them?"
Marty shook his head. "That's where it really started. And it just kept piling up over the next several weeks. Finally, I just lost it. I'll admit, I lost my temper. Is that what you want to hear?" He realized he was starting to sound a little defensive and abruptly shut his mouth.
Doc was quiet for a couple minutes. "Why didn't you tell me this before? Back in August?"
Marty shrugged, walking over to the small, barred window and looking outside as he spoke. "I don't know. I kind of hoped that it would go away. That you might lay off or whatever. But it didn't and...." He shrugged again, turning around.
Doc sighed, rubbing his forehead. "So am I to understand that the reason you became angry at me was because you felt as if I was taking advantage of your assistance?"
"In a nutshell, yeah."
Doc sighed again and got to his feet, starting to pace. "Marty, I never knew you felt this way before. You should have said something to me--and not while I was distracted and busy with a project," he quickly added, as Marty was about to speak. "You caught me at a bad time when you did speak up about this situation, and I don't believe either of us handled it in the best way."
"You can say that again," Marty murmured, remembering the first fight and argument in the lab.
Doc stopped pacing, and stood before Marty. "I'm sorry as well, for not taking your previous plans into consideration when asking for your assistance." He smiled slightly, a little sadly. "I suppose you've changed from the kid I met in 1982. You're starting to grow into an adult now."
Marty hid a smile, glad someone was noticing! His parents certainly didn't agree with that yet!
"It's not a bad thing," Doc added quickly. "Change is to be expected with the passage of time. But people like myself who have known you for a while and are a little older should be expected to slip a little in that area. I'm sure your parents have acted similarly before."
Marty nodded.
"So I'll stop relying on you so heavily for help," Doc said. "All right?"
Marty felt a little funny at the offer. "Doc, I don't want you to start excluding me out of stuff because of this. Just--just give me a little warning ahead of time when you need my help. And when I can't do what you need then, just back off--or see if maybe we can do it later. That's all I want. Just to have you start asking me to help again instead of expecting me to."
Doc nodded. "I understand." He stuck his hand out. "Are we friends again, then?"
Marty grinned, and shook Doc's hand. "Sure, I think I can handle that."
Doc smiled back. "I'm glad to have my old assistant back."
"Glad to be back," Marty said, then his smile faded as he remembered where they were. "So, Doc, got any idea how I can assist the both of us outta this mess?"
Doc's face grew serious as he looked around. "Not at the moment. At least we have three days before we are due to hang."
Marty sighed, sitting down on the bench. "Jen and Clara sure got us into a mess here!"
"They aren't to blame," Doc said quickly. "Their intentions were good, and they certainly wouldn't have left us here if they knew the environment." Doc frowned. "Though I want to have a talk with both of them! Time travel shouldn't be used for purposes such as this. It's far too frivolous and risky."
Marty shrugged, half in a agreement, half in disagreement. I think if we weren't back here and hadn't gone through what we have so far, Doc and I wouldn't be friends again, he thought. But he kept it to himself.
"So, what do you think we can do now to get out of the jail?" Marty asked. "I could care less if they think we're witches or not. Is it possible to break out of this place?"
Doc surveyed the stone walls, iron bars, the floor, and the ceiling. Marty followed his eyes, trying to think how Doc might. "Maybe we could dig a hole in the ground?" he suggested before Doc could say anything.
Doc glanced down at the dirt floor, then quickly shook his head. "It would take too long without the proper tools, and we would be discovered before we could make much progress."
"What if we worked at night?" Marty asked, undeterred.
Doc shook his head again. "They send someone in here to check on the prisoners every few hours. Even in the darkness, it would be too risky."
Marty looked up, recalling the plan that Doc had come up with in the 1850's to help Clara and some runaway slaves escape from their prison. "What about through the roof?"
"A good idea, but again unrealistic," Doc said. "We don't have the tools to saw through the wood."
Marty sighed. "Well, that's all I can think of."
Doc smiled slightly, resuming his pacing of the small cell. "I'm sure something will come. We have a couple days."
Later in the afternoon, after a lunch of cold soup and stale bread, the jail keeper brought them another cellmate. She was a slender, petite girl, no older than Marty. Marty had no idea who she was, but the girl and Doc appeared to recognize each other immediately.
"Rilla," Doc said in surprise, as the girl was pushed roughly into the cell, the door locked at her back. "What are you doing here?"
"They needed to remove someone out of the other cell," Rilla explained, casting an glare at the retreating jail keeper. "I was chosen because I cannot be killed for months." She looked over at Marty. "Who are you?"
Marty glanced at Doc before he answered. "Marty McFly. I'm a friend of his," he added, cocking his head at Doc.
Rilla stared at him a moment, then looked at Doc. "Be this the friend who you bore a grudge?"
Doc cleared his throat, looking uncomfortable with the question. "Yes. But it was a misunderstanding and we've worked things out between us."
"That is good," Rilla said, nodding. "I wish only that other villagers would do the same with their grudges. Perhaps then we will have less death and jailings."
Doc walked over to the bars of the cell and looked out into the hall. "Have the jail keepers left?" he murmured.
Rilla glanced over her shoulder, looking puzzled at the question. "I believe they have, aye."
"Good," Doc said, sounding preoccupied.
Marty looked at Doc, recognizing that tone in his voice. "Do you have a plan?" he asked hopefully.
"I have something," Doc said. "It's better than nothing." He stepped away from the cell door and looked at the young woman. "Rilla, will we have a chance to confess before we hang?"
Rilla nodded. "Aye. The Reverend will visit and want your confession that you danced with the Devil. If you admit to the deed, give them more names on who you saw with the Devil, and repent, they shall release you. But if you deny it, you shall be led to the gallows."
Marty stared at Doc, coming up with his own idea. "So we confess and repent!" he said, then frowned. "Wait a minute. That sounds too easy."
"It is," Doc said. "First off, we cannot give false names to the authorities on who is a witch. Secondly, how well do you know the Bible?"
Marty scratched his head, thinking. "Well, it's been a while since I went to Sunday school, that's for sure."
"I thought as much," Doc sighed.
"Why, what's the problem with that?"
"The problem is that the Puritans are deeply religious and God-fearing people," Doc explained. "If we were to confess and repent, they would want to know all sorts of things from the Bible that they expect everyone to have memorized."
"Oh," Marty said. That was a bit of a problem.
"Fortunately, I do have another idea," Doc said, before Marty could feel too disappointed. "It would require Rilla's cooperation, however." He looked at the young woman, who appeared interested at the words. "Would you mind helping us?"
"Oh, it would please me to do so," Rilla assured them, nodding. "If I can do anything to help people falsely persecuted for witchcraft, I shall."
"Excellent," Doc said, dropping his voice. "We'll wait until nightfall, then here's what we'll do...."
Friday, July 4, 1692
10:52PM
"Is the jail keeper here yet?" Doc Brown asked Rilla, who was keeping watch through the bars of the jail door.
"Aye," she whispered. "He is making his rounds."
"It is time, then," Doc said. He looked at Marty, sitting expectantly on the bench. "Are you ready?"
Marty picked up the stone that they had been able to pry out of the wall, from under the bench. "Sure," he agreed.
"All right," Doc said. He nodded at Rilla. "Proceed with what we have rehearsed."
Rilla fell to the ground and lay on her back unmoving, her eyes wide open and staring blankly up at the ceiling. Marty crept to a particularly dark corner of the cell, behind the hinges of the door, the heavy stone in hand. Doc started to shout.
"Help! Somebody, help!"
Footsteps pounded towards their cell. "What be wrong?" asked the man who was guarding the cells that night.
Doc pointed to Rilla on the ground. "She's under a spell!" he said. "She just fell down and we cannot rouse her."
The man looked at Doc with some suspicion, then shifted his eyes to Rilla. Fear crawled over his face as he stared at her. The jail keeper reached for the keys hooked around his belt loop and unlocked the door. Doc stepped back, knowing instinctively that the man would feel more comfortable with the move. The jail keeper pushed open the cell door, hinges creaking, then stepped inside and bent over Rilla.
With the jail keeper successfully distracted, Marty made his move. He stepped out from the shadows, behind the man, and brought the rock down hard on his head. The man went out almost at once, falling towards Rilla. The young woman was quick, managing to roll out of the way of the descending body before it hit the ground.
Marty leaned over and picked up the key ring from the floor, where the jailkeeper had dropped it. Doc and Rilla were already out of the cell. Marty shut the door behind him and locked it, trapping the jailkeeper inside.
"We must get some of the others!" Rilla said as the three of them rushed for the door to the outside world. "They deserve freedom, too!"
"We never discussed that," Doc warned, seeing an immediate problem.
Rilla looked at him with some shock and disappointment. "Tell me not that you believe them evil! They are innocents, just like you both!"
"Yeah, Doc," Marty said. "We should break them outta here!"
Doc gave Marty a sharp look to keep his mouth shut. "We can't," he said, those words truer than Rilla could ever know.
But the young woman would not be deterred by Doc's protest. She grabbed the keys from Marty's hand and ran over to the closest cell. It housed three prisoners, all women. Doc recognized only one, Kezia Goode.
"Have your freedom, girls," Rilla cried, unlocking the cell door with a flourish. The three prisoners rushed out.
Doc stepped over and snatched the keys from Rilla's grasp before she could do further harm to the space-time continuum. Rilla stared at him, angry. But before she could say anything or take the keys back, there were shouts from the back of the prison.
"Stop! Stop right there, witches!"
Doc and Rilla turned around to see a man running down the hall, brandishing a rifle. Without a word, the two of them followed the others in running out of the building. Marty, who was a good ten feet ahead of Doc, stumbled over the threshold of the door. Doc pushed him out as he reached the exit and they followed the others in sprinting for the dark woods on the other side of the road.
Something cracked through the silence of the night. Gunshots. I'm getting too old for this! Doc thought as he ducked and ran even faster for the sanctuary of the trees. He passed Marty and seconds later jumped into the shadows of the forest. Even then, he continued to run, until the gunshots had stopped and their pursuer had give up.
Doc stopped suddenly, Marty slamming into him a second later. The teenager was gasping for air, his face white in the darkness. "Doc," he moaned. "Doc, I think I got shot!"
Doc looked at him in alarm, seeing no blood or anything else that would suggest such a thing. But it was rather dark. "What makes you," he started to say, then stopped. Footsteps were heading their way.
Doc grabbed Marty and pushed him to the ground, crouching down himself. The thick brush and shadows--along with their dark clothes--would conceal them well from view. Marty moaned softly. Doc put a hand over his mouth, knowing silence was crucial.
The footsteps grew closer. A moment later, Doc saw the man with the rifle from the jail approach where they lay. He looked around, obviously uneasy. There was a rustle from behind the man and he whirled around, letting off a shot with the gun. Marty jerked at the noise, trembling. But he kept silent.
It seemed like forever before the man passed and the woods once again grew silent. Doc slipped his hand from Marty's mouth, letting out a long sigh of relief that the immediate danger was past. He got to his feet, pulling Marty up with him. His friend fell against him, still shaking. "What makes you think you were shot?" Doc whispered.
Marty pointed to his right shoulder. "I felt something hit me," he replied, panic straining his voice. "I know it was from the gun!"
Doc pulled Marty over to a pool of moonlight a couple feet away and squinted at the area that the teen had pointed to. The fabric of the coat was ripped. Doc gently touched it and felt something damp on his fingers. Blood.
"Oh God," Doc murmured without thinking, drawing his hand away. Marty's eyes went wide at the comment, locking on the dark stain on the tips of Doc's fingers.
"No," he murmured. "Not again!" Then, before Doc could say or do anything, Marty started to sag towards the ground. Doc grabbed him, saving him from a hard landing, but the weight of his friend brought him to his knees.
"Damn," Doc whispered. This was the last thing they needed! He immediately started trying to wake Marty. They had to get out of these woods, and soon! But Marty remained stubbornly out, his face the color of marble. Shock, Doc thought.
Footsteps approached them again, from a new direction. Doc froze, his eyes searching for the source of the noise. Kezia Goode became visible a second later, not the man with the gun. "Kezia," Doc whispered. The girl stopped, her eyes widening in panic. "Over here," Doc said, waving. She looked at him, blinking in surprise.
"Mr. Brown, is it not?" she asked.
"It is," he said. "Has the danger passed?"
Kezia looked around. "I know not," she said. Her face darkened as she noticed Marty for the first time. "Is your friend hurt?"
"Ah, I believe so," Doc said. "But I'm not sure how badly yet. Is there somewhere we can go?"
Kezia nodded without hesitation. "I am on my way to my home now. My family will protect me."
"What about us?" Doc asked. Theresa Goode, after all, had helped accuse him of witchcraft.
Kezia pursed her lips. "My sister will not mind. We can protect you both and keep you hidden from our mother."
Doc wondered exactly how that would be possible, but didn't ask. "Is it a far walk to your inn?"
"Perhaps a quarter mile."
Doc stifled a groan. With Marty currently unconscious, he was going to have to carry him. Doc knew he was going to be sore tomorrow! "All right," he said. "Let's go."
The trek to the Goode Inn was just as arduous as Doc Brown had feared. After more attempts to wake Marty before starting--and the attempts greeted with no more response than before--Doc scooped him up and carried him in his arms. Doc was reluctant to put Marty over his shoulder in a fireman's carry, since he was unsure how badly he was hurt.
Kezia hadn't lead them far before Doc's arms started complaining from the dead weight in them. The pain quickly ran from his arms to his shoulders, and then into his neck and back. By the time they reached the back of the inn, Doc's arms were numb and his whole body ached. He set Marty down on the ground as Kezia slipped inside to fetch her sister. A sigh of tremendous relief escaped Doc as he tenderly flexed his fingers and rubbed his arms.
Amanda Goode appeared with Kezia on the back porch a few minutes later. Amanda carried a candle, her curly hair hanging loose down her back. She was dressed in a white nightgown, her feet bare. "I've told her everything," Kezia whispered to Doc. "She is to be trusted."
Doc looked at Amanda, who nodded slowly. "I will help you both out," she said softly. "You were able to free Kezia. And I do not believe in that witchcraft business, anyhow. Both you and Marty appear trustworthy. Mara Schaefer is not." Amanda's face darkened as she spoke the name.
"Are you sure that your mother won't discover us?" Doc asked.
Amanda nodded again. "You all may stay in the attic. No one goes up there, though it may be a wee bit hot."
Kezia turned to her sister. "Mother must not know I am free," she said. "They will take me back if it is known I am home."
Amanda frowned. "Oh, Kezia, not even Mother? She will worry sick for you!"
Kezia shook her head firmly. "Not a word. If they take me back, they will surely kill me."
Amanda looked at her sister for a long moment, then nodded. "Aye, you're right. We best get you all inside, now, before they send someone for your capture."
Doc picked up Marty as the sisters entered their house. He groaned softly at his weight; it seemed as if Marty had grown even heavier since Doc had last carried him! He slowly followed Kezia and Amanda up a couple flights of stairs, trying to tread as lightly as possible--which was nearly im possible under the circumstances!
The attic space was low, but it covered the entire second floor. A great deal of boxes and chests were stored in the attic, but there was a lot of room at the far end, where Kezia and Amanda headed. As soon as the girls stopped, Doc set Marty down on the floor, glad that was over with!
"This is above my bedroom, so you shouldn't fear if you make a little noise," Amanda whispered.
"Thanks," Doc said gratefully.
Amanda glanced down at Marty, then up at Doc again. "May I fetch you anything?"
"That would be wonderful of you," Doc said. "Could we have some blankets, a couple lamps, and some water?"
Amanda nodded at the requests. "Certainly." She looked to her sister. "Can I get you anything?"
"Aye," Kezia said. "Food."
Amanda looked at her sister with obvious concern. "You look thinner. Did they starve you?"
"Nearly," Kezia said. "But don't fret, Amanda. I'm not going back to that place!"
Amanda hugged her sister suddenly, Kezia hugging back. "Oh, I pray to God not!" Amanda broke from the embrace and headed for the attic stairs. "I'll be back shortly with the supplies."
Darkness engulfed the room as Amanda decided the stairs with the candle. "What is wrong with your friend?" Kezia asked softly, after a moment of silence.
"He was shot," Doc said. "As we were running away from the jail."
"Oh Lord," Kezia gasped. "I naught to see any bleeding."
"It's on his right arm," Doc explained, frowning at Kezia's words. That was a little odd. The last time Marty had been shot, back in the whole mess with Doc B, he had bled a lot. I wonder how serious this injury is?
Doc had to be in suspense until Amanda returned with lamps, which she did five minutes later. "Mother has not woken," Amanda reported, setting down the two lamps she had brought, the quilts, and the pitcher of water. She swiftly lit the lamps with the candle, then left to get the food. Doc adjusted the glow on the oil lamps, then turned his attention to Marty.
Without even attempting to wake him up, Doc pulled him into a sitting position, slipped his coat off, then had Kezia spread one of the blankets out on the ground before easing Marty back down. He pushed the teenager onto his left side, drawing one of the lamps close as he examined the wound.
The bleeding had stopped. Doc was able to tell that in a second. What blood that had spilled wasn't much. It had dried already. Doc rolled back Marty's shirt sleeve and took his first good look at the injury. What he saw nearly made him laugh. The source of the blood was merely a cut, a few inches long and a little deep. Which would have accounted for the bleeding.
"Marty wasn't really shot," Doc said with relief. "A bullet merely grazed him! He was damn lucky!"
Kezia glanced at the wound, then at Marty's face. "If he is not badly hurt, why does he sleep so?"
"Shock," Doc answered without hesitation. "Marty has had a....close call with being shot once before. He's been a little uneasy around guns ever since. I don't doubt that if he really believed he was shot, it scared him so badly that he fainted."
Doc used some of the water in the pitcher to clean the cut, then pushed the sleeve back down and rolled Marty onto his back. Doc put a hand to his friend's forehead, then leaned close to hear his breathing. Marty's skin felt a little clammy, but his breathing was steady and slow. And in the glow of the lamplight, Doc could see that the color had started to return to his face.
"He'll be fine," Doc said. "Might as well let him wake on his own now." He checked his pocket watch, stunned to see it was only midnight. It had seemed so much later! What a day its been!
Amanda returned to the attic with the food. "I found some scones Mother baked today," she said, handing Kezia a napkin-wrapped bundle. "There is enough here for each of you to have two."
Kezia opened the bundle and pulled out one of the scones. "Thank you, Amanda."
Amanda looked at Marty. "Is he going to be well?" she asked Doc.
Doc nodded, spreading out a quilt for him to sit on. "Oh yes, I would guarantee it. Marty's just had a little shock."
Amanda sat down on the ground. "I looked out the window when I was downstairs. They've got people out searching for you all. No one has come to our door yet, though."
"Marty and I will be gone soon," Doc promised her. "We don't intend to put your family in danger by staying here."
Amanda turned to him. "Oh, don't be foolish! You may stay here as long as needed."
"That is very generous of you," Doc said. "But, honestly, we planned to leave town on Tuesday before any of this started."
Amanda shrugged. "I would suggest that you stay here for tonight and tomorrow afternoon, at least," she said. "If you leave after dark tomorrow, you would stand better chances of getting away. And perhaps the searches will stop by then."
Doc nodded at her words, knowing it was wise advice.
"Something must be done about Mara Schaefer," Kezia said softly, changing the subject. "That girl will not be satisfied until the entire town is behind bars as witches!"
"I don't know why she hasn't accused me yet," Amanda admitted. "I'm sure that she will eventually. I live in constant fear that one day my name will be uttered upon her lips in the same breath as 'witch.' "
"I am most surprised that Kate Carter has not yet been accused," Kezia said. "They are together so constantly."
"That is why she has not yet been accused," Amanda said. "Mara needs Kate to back up her accusations in the court room." She looked at Doc. "Like today. That other girl who was accusing you of dancing with the Devil was Kate Carter."
"And I suppose Kate must please Mara with that so she will not be the one at the other end of things," Kezia concluded. "Their's is a relationship that is dark and twisted."
"Why does Mara accuse people of witchcraft?" Doc asked, curious. "Did someone do that once to her?"
"Even if they would, it would not be believed," Amanda said. "No, Mara does this because she is evil. She feels a dark thrill from this, thinks it is all some grand game."
"Amanda!" Kezia gasped, shocked at the words her sister was uttering. Amanda appeared nonplussed.
"Kezia, you know it the truth. I speak no lies, unlike Mara. The girl is missing something inside. This is no game. Innocent people are dying! Something has to be done about the blond witch!"
Kezia stared at her sister, her face sad. "Tell me not that you will accuse her of witchcraft."
"I cannot accuse her," Amanda said, shaking her head. "You know as well as I do. No one will believe that she is so evil. She has many powerful people convinced of her good and Christian nature."
Doc kept silent as the sisters talked, not wanting to influence anything that might have ill results on the future. Although I suppose we already drastically altered things when Rilla freed Kezia!
Doc sighed softly at their predicament. He could only hope that he and Marty would be able to leave town without being noticed the following night. And when they got back home, things would be the same as they had left them.
Saturday, July 5, 1692
8:29AM
Marty woke up with a start, his heart racing. Shot, shot, I was shot! he thought immediately. Then: Where am I?
His surroundings were dark and dim. Marty was lying on his back, staring up at what he eventually realized were ceiling beams. He realized with a touch of surprise that his right arm wasn't aching. It felt a little tender near the shoulder, but more as if it had been bruised or scratched instead of shot.
"Doc?" he whispered. "Doc?"
There was no response. Marty swallowed hard, feeling terribly alone. "Anyone?" he murmured.
When his surroundings remained silent, Marty summoned his courage and sat up. He was surprised he didn't become dizzy with the move. In the glow of one lamp, turned down low, Marty saw Doc Brown lying a few feet away, his back to him. Marty leaned over and grabbed his shoulder. "Doc!"
The scientist jerked, rolling quickly around to face Marty. "Great Scott!" he gasped, his eyes wide. "You gave me quite the start!"
"Where are we?" Marty demanded. "What happened with my shoulder?"
Doc sat up and put a firm finger to his lips. "Keep your voice down," he cautioned softly. "Silence is of utmost importance!"
Marty lowered his voice but didn't stop the questions. "What happened?" he asked, that question seeming to summarize all of the other questions he had. "I was shot, wasn't I? Why don't I feel as bad as I did after the last time?"
Doc looked at Marty, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "You weren't shot."
"I--I wasn't?" Marty asked, stunned by the announcement. "Then what happened with my arm?"
"You were grazed," Doc said. "You came within a millimeter of getting shot, but the bullet just grazed you. You were very very lucky."
Marty twisted around, trying to see what had happened to his arm. "But it was bleeding," he said, still doubting Doc's words.
"You were grazed," Doc repeated. "It's just a scratch, Marty. Trust me."
Marty looked at him, skeptical. Is he trying to protect me? he wondered. But after a moment of thought, he dismissed the idea. Last time he had really gotten shot, Doc had told him so straight out. He wasn't exactly the type to keep something that important back! And Marty knew if he had really taken another bullet, he would feel a lot worse than he did.
"All right," he said slowly. "So where are we now? And why do we have to be so quiet?"
"We're in the attic of the Goode inn," Doc answered. "Amanda allowed us and her sister, Kezia, up here to hide from the authorities, who are surely looking for us now."
Marty sighed, something about the setting awfully familiar to him. It's like we're in the middle of that Underground Railroad again! "How long are we going to be stuck here?"
"Just until tonight," Doc said. "Then we'll slip out and get far away from town as we wait out the rest of the time until Clara and Jennifer return. Which will be at 4AM on Tuesday morning. About three days from now."
Marty sighed again, drawing his knees up and leaning forward, resting his arms on them. "Perfect."
There was the sound of a door opening, then closing again from the other end of the attic. Footsteps treaded towards them, lightly. A second later a girl that Marty remembered vaguely from the night before appeared. "Mother has gone into town for supplies," she explained, setting down a plate filled with bread, bacon, and jellies on the floor.
"Are people still searching for us?" Doc asked the newcomer.
"Aye, I believe so." She looked at Marty. "Are you feeling better this morning?"
"Uh, yeah," Marty said. "Who are you?"
"I am Kezia Goode," the girl said. "Amanda's sister. Rilla freed me last night when you made your escape."
"Oh yeah," Marty said, remembering now. "Your sister's told me lots about you, too."
"Amanda and I are very close," Kezia said. "She was devastated when they accused me of the witchcraft."
"Mara Schaefer accused you, right?" Marty asked, remembering Amanda's words on the matter.
Kezia nodded, sitting down. "Aye, it was her."
Marty scowled as he remembered that girl. "She's such a bitch! We should do something to her!"
Kezia looked shocked at Marty's words. "Amanda and I discussed such a matter last night," she said after a moment, taking a slice of bread. "It would be far too dangerous, however."
"It would be more dangerous allowing her to accuse others, though," Marty said. He blinked. "Hey, I know! Doc and I could do something to her!"
"We most certainly will not!" Doc said sharply, giving Marty a hard look.
"Why not?" Marty asked. "We'll be outta here in a couple days, anyway. And look what she put you through!"
"You know why not," Doc said, looking at him meaningfully. "And besides, it's too risky and spiteful."
Marty picked up a slice of bread and smeared some jelly on it. "So what? Doc, what she is doing is killing people! Someone has to stop her!"
"We cannot interfere in these events," Doc insisted. "Even if Mara Schaefer may be sentencing people to death."
Marty looked at Kezia, who was listening intently to their conversation. "Does your sister agree with that, too?"
Kezia bit her lower lip. "Amanda has vengeance on her mind as well. I pray she won't do anything foolish."
Marty turned back to Doc. "See, Amanda agrees with me!"
"Amanda isn't like us," Doc said after a moment, sounding as if he was choosing his words carefully. "Drop the idea, Marty."
Marty frowned, struggling to come up with some way to get Doc on his side--then, when he realized it was a lost cause, sighed in defeat, throwing up his hands. "Fine, fine. I guess it would be too risky."
"They would surely arrest you," Kezia said, taking Marty's words a different way. "Amanda often thinks with her emotions rather than her head."
"Marty can be the same way," Doc said.
Marty turned his head sharply to look at his friend. "Hey! I resent that!"
Doc looked at him, unruffled by the outburst. "You know it's true, Marty. And keep your voice down."
"Yeah, well, who said it's a bad thing?" Marty muttered.
Doc gave him a long look, not saying a word. "It's like anything else," the scientist said, finally. "It can come in handy at times, and it can be a downfall at times."
Marty shrugged, tiring of the topic. "How are we going to get out of here?" he asked, changing the subject. Kezia answered the question.
"Mother goes to bed around nightfall," she said. "By midnight she should be soundly sleeping. I will help the two of you out of the house, then you will be on your own. I will be waiting out the time up here."
Marty looked at the young woman, a little surprised at her words. "You mean you're going to just stay up here in the attic indefinitely?"
Kezia stared at Marty, her brown eyes serious. "This is my home. Granted, the conditions may not be comfortable, but this is better than the jail cell. And I need not worry about hanging in here, unless I am caught."
Marty let out a soft whistle. "Man, what did you to do Mara that made her do this to you?"
"Mara and I have always had a stormy friendship," Kezia said. "But it was not until the fear of witches set in that she decided to get even with me for our arguments." The innkeeper's daughter sighed. "I am hoping that someone will see through these false accusations but, as of late, no one has."
"They will," Doc said. "Not for a few more months, however."
Kezia looked at him, frowning faintly. "What makes you know?"
"I just do," Doc said. "Trust me. Things will end by October of this year."
Kezia sighed again, running a finger along the edge of the plate of food which she had brought up. "I don't believe I can bear to wait until October in here."
"Do you have anyone you could stay with out of town?" Marty asked. "Any relatives or friends?"
Kezia shook her head. "Father has vanished, and we know not where he is."
"Wait a minute," Marty said, remembering something from his arrival. "I thought your sister said you had an aunt somewhere in New York?"
"Aye," Kezia said. "But Aunt Mary and Mother had a falling out some time ago. And I fear I would not be able to trust her to keep my presence a secret."
"Is she mad at you and Amanda?" Marty asked.
Kezia shook her head. "No. But even if I was to stay with her, New York is a good distance from here. It would be a long and dangerous journey alone."
It was a good point. Before the conversation could travel further, Marty heard a door open somewhere nearby and the soft tread of footsteps approach them. All three of them froze. "It is I, Amanda," a whisper came from the other end of the attic. "Fear not."
"Amanda," Kezia said as her sister came into sight. "How goes it?"
"They've found Goody Smith and Goody Phillips," Amanda reported. "But there has been no sign of Rilla or the three of you."
Kezia sighed. "Oh, those poor women. They are no more witches than you or I."
"Aye," Amanda agreed. She looked at Marty. "Are you feeling better today?"
"Yeah, I'm fine," Marty said.
"That is good," Amanda said, nodding. "We fretted for you last night. Your friend feared for your life."
Marty looked at Doc, suddenly suspicious again. "I thought you said it was just a scratch!" he said, his voice rising.
Doc sighed. "It is," he said, leaning over towards Marty. "Look for yourself." He rolled up Marty's sleeve and pointed to the injury. Marty looked at it, seeing a nasty raw red scratch a couple inches long embedded in his upper arm.
"Do you believe me now?" Doc asked when Marty said nothing, staring at the small wound.
Marty finally rolled down his sleeve and nodded. "Yeah," he said, feeling a little embarrassed at his doubt from earlier. "Sorry."
"Is Mother around?" Kezia asked her sister. "It be dangerous for you to be with us."
Amanda shrugged, sitting down. "Mother went to the store. I do not believe my presence will be missed by the help." She looked at Doc. "I will fetch you when it is right to leave tonight. I do not believe there will be any problem with it."
"Thanks," Doc said. He looked at his watch, frowning faintly. "Looks like we have a whole day to kill, then."
"Is there anything I may fetch you?" Amanda offered. "We have some books downstairs. Father was a very learned man."
"I'm aware of that," Doc said slowly, the tone of his voice a little odd to Marty's ears. "Won't your mother notice them missing?"
Amanda waved her hand, unconcerned. "She never was one to pay much heed to that." She started to get to her feet. "I will be back with the volumes shortly."
Marty sighed and stretched back out on the blanket. "Man, it's going to be a long day," he muttered. "What are we going to do when we leave here?"
"Get away from Salem village and camp in the clearing where we were dropped off," Doc said. Kezia gave him an odd look at the words, but Doc didn't notice. "I think we should be safe there, since people now didn't generally venture into the woods."
"The reason be that the woods are an evil place," Kezia said without hesitation. "Their has been many a story on what has happened in the trees, and many people have vanished into thin air. The woods are cursed, and I would use caution if you plan to be in them."
"You know where we're going, right?" Marty asked, remembering his long, confusing journey into town.
"I know the way," Doc confirmed. "Now we just need to wait until tonight."
Sunday, July 6, 1692
12:01AM
Doc Brown and Marty sat in the darkness of the attic, waiting. A couple feet away, Kezia Goode lay, awake and waiting with the time travelers for her sister to arrive and give the signal that the coast was clear.
"It should not be much longer," Kezia whispered, breaking the silence that hung in the stuffy attic. "I'm certain that Amanda will be here within a few moments."
The moments passed, without incident. "Are you sure she didn't forget?" Marty asked, his voice coming from Doc's right.
"She would not forget," Kezia said, her voice filled with conviction.
There was a noise from below. Voices. Several of them, speaking in excited tones, though the words that were being uttered were indistinguishable from inside the attic.
"Something's wrong," Doc muttered, his heart starting to pound. He leaned over and put his ear to the floor, hoping to hear what was being said below. It was hard, but he was able to catch some words.
"Mara Schaefer has brought about accusations against you!" a male voice shouted. "She has told of you dancing in the woods and casting spells upon others! She has seen you with the Devil, as has Kate Carter!"
"I deny it all!" a familiar voice cried. Amanda Goode. "Mara knows nothing! I have not seen her since the last trial."
"But she sees you," the other voice insisted. "We have a warrant for your arrest."
Doc sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth at the words. "What's wrong?" Marty asked, sounding worried.
"Shhhh!" Doc said, straining his hearing to catch the rest of the conversation.
"I am no more a witch than the Reverend!" Amanda insisted.
"What are these books, then?" another voice demanded. " 'The Herbal Arts'? Those be spell-casting books!"
"They are not mine!" Amanda insisted. "They belonged to my father, Miles Goode!"
"He was a witch," the first voice said. "That is why he vanished from the town. He is sure to be somewhere, casting spells upon us all!"
"My father was not a witch!" Amanda said firmly. "He merely had an interest in sciences. I do not know nor understand why he vanished. You know as well as I do that the woods be a dangerous place for one to travel!"
"Not if one be in with the Devil!" the second voice sneered. "Do we need chain you to have you come with us?"
The voices faded, the very faint sound of footsteps audible. Then a door closed and all was silent.
Doc took his ear from the floor, bumping into Marty as he sat up. "Did you catch any of that, Kezia?" he asked.
"No," the young woman whispered, her voice filled with an odd tension. "It be bad, am I right?"
"You are correct," Doc confirmed with a nod, though the girl couldn't see it.
"Spill it, Doc," Marty suggested. "What happened?"
"They've taken Amanda," Doc said, deciding to move straight to the point. "Mara has accused her of being a witch."
There was a sharp hiss of breath from Kezia. "Mara be the witch, not my sister!" she snapped. "What proof have they against Amanda?"
"Enough," Doc said, feeling a pang of guilt as he recalled what the man had said about the books. She got those for me!
"Can we still leave?" Marty asked after a moment of silence.
"No," Doc said softly, realizing something very important.
"Why not?" Marty asked, sounding stunned at the answer.
Doc groped his hands across the floor until he located the matchbox and the lamp. He struck a match, lighting the wick and slipping the glass flume over the light. The glow showed a pale Kezia and a confused Marty, both staring at him, waiting for him to speak. Doc hated to say what he needed to before Kezia, but knew it couldn't be helped.
"We cannot leave because we have likely caused Amanda's arrest," he finally said. Marty frowned, catching Doc's drift. Kezia, however, took the statement in a completely different fashion.
"Do not blame yourselves in the least," she insisted. "I do not believe that you are the ones who caused Mara to accuse Amanda!"
Marty looked Doc in the eye. "What makes you think so?" he asked carefully.
Now it would get sticky. Doc looked at Kezia, hating to ask but.... "Would you mind if Marty and I had a word alone?"
Kezia blinked, looking a bit confused at the request, but she nodded. "Not a whit," she said, standing and heading for the opposite end of the attic.
Doc waited until he was sure she was out of earshot, then leaned close to Marty. "I think so because, originally, we were never here. Nor was Kezia. The men who took her downstairs cited one reason for her guilt being that she had some books that they considered strange--but she had those books for me! I am the reason they were with her."
Marty looked at Doc, skepticism on his face. "I can see that," he agreed. "But I thought Mara accused Amanda? What do we have to do with that?"
"Perhaps nothing," Doc said. "But if she was accused in the original events, she might have been let go from a lack of evidence. However, now that those books are there, that can be used in the case against her! It's a very small thing, but you know as well as I do how much weight those small things can have."
"So what are you saying?" Marty asked.
"We've got to make sure Amanda is cleared," Doc said.
Marty frowned again. "Doc, that could change something that was supposed to happen!" he pointed out. "Would it really hurt the future if we left things the way they are?"
"It could," Doc said. "What if, say, Amanda was not killed originally? What if she eventually married and had children? And those children grew up and also married and had children? If us being here caused her--albeit indirectly--to be killed, those children would never be born, and their children's children would never be born....for several generations! It would almost certainly alter the future."
"But what if all this happened originally, or Amanda died from something or other before she married and had kids?" Marty asked.
"We don't know that," Doc said. He sighed softly, frustrated. "It's times like these I wish we had something that could inform us of such a possibility! Anyway, we should really try to help Amanda out of this mess."
"But didn't we already change things when we freed Kezia and those others?" Marty asked. "Does that mean you want to throw Kezia in jail again?"
Doc sighed again, starting to get a headache at the complexities of time travel and possible paradoxes. "No--but if we get back to the future and find things changed, I might reconsider."
Marty heaved his own sigh. "So what do we do? We can't be seen in town, otherwise they'll arrest us again. Remember?"
Doc nodded. "How could I forget?" He paused, thinking. "Maybe we could break her out...."
Marty looked a little doubtful at that prospect. "Wouldn't that be too dangerous? Those guards have guns, remember?"
Doc suddenly remembered something important, something he had nearly forgotten. His face lit up. "Not if we concealed ourselves as jail keepers! I still have the keys to the jail!" Doc reached into the pocket of his coat, where he had slipped the ring of keys without even thinking about it after taking it from Rilla's hand during their escape. He pulled out the keys and held them up for Marty to see.
"They probably changed the locks, though," Marty said, staring at the keys without much enthusiasm.
Doc shook his head. "No, not in this day and age! An action like that would take weeks to accomplish! They likely have a spare set. But we should be able to get in and out of the jail without much trouble."
Marty looked unconvinced. "They probably have boosted security," he said. "Especially after last night."
Doc frowned, considering the words. Marty is probably right about that, he realized. "So we won't do it tonight," he decided. "Tomorrow night is probably better anyhow. We should have more time to plan things out."
Marty groaned softly. "You mean we're going to be stuck up here another twenty four hours?" He looked less than thrilled at the prospect.
"Better safe than sorry," Doc said. "We would be better prepared tomorrow. I imagine that it will be easier tomorrow, too," he added. "Tomorrow is Sunday and, being tremendously religious, the Puritans will not be working. There may not be anyone at the jail tomorrow or, if there is, it will probably be only one person."
Marty nodded, finally. "Okay, I guess that sounds like the best thing. Should we tell Kezia about it?"
Doc thought about that, frowning. "Perhaps. Since both sisters will be missing, they will need to help each other out. They won't be able to stay here in Salem until after this ridiculous hysteria dies down in a few months. But at least they will be alive."
Doc Brown explained the situation to Kezia when he and Marty had finished their conversation. The young woman was amiable to the idea, though she was reluctant on leaving her mother and the village. But she understood there was no other way around that problem. Kezia continued to doubt Doc's conviction that it would be safe to return to Salem by October of that year, however.
"I be confused on the belief that the trials will be over by October," she said slowly, after Doc assured her that she and Amanda would be able to return to town then. "What fills you with this idea?"
"I just know," Doc told her vaguely. "You don't have to believe me. Stay away longer if you wish. But you have my word that you should be safe if you return to Salem after October."
Doc outlined the plan for the next night. While Kezia would wait in the woods bordering the jail, Doc and Marty would approach the jail, get past the guards, and hopefully free Amanda in fifteen minutes or less. Then all four would split up; the girls to leave Salem, and the time travelers to wait for their ride back to the future.
"Sounds so simple," Marty whispered as the three of them settled in for the night. "What if things go wrong?"
"Then we'll do what we always have," Doc said. "Improvise. And run like hell."
Sunday, July 6, 1692
11:32PM
Nearly twenty four hours after first concocting the plan, Doc Brown led Marty down the dark streets of Salem, Kezia following at a few paces behind. During their day in the attic, Kezia had come up with some costumes to conceal their identity. Some oversized, hooded cloaks did the best job of keeping their faces hidden. Marty hoped they wouldn't have to run, though. He kept tripping over the hem of the garment as they walked. The damn thing was too long for him.
"Remember, leave the speaking to me," Doc whispered as they headed for the jail. "I've had a chance to observe the guards longer than you have, and I have an idea on how this should occur."
Marty nodded, cursing under his breath as he stumbled over the bottom of the cloak again. "How long do you think this is gonna take?" he murmured.
"Not long, I would hope," Doc said.
As they drew closer to the stone building that housed the prisoners, the trio stepped off the road and into the shadows at the side. "Send Amanda my way!" Kezia reminded Doc as she stepped deeper into the woods that bordered the road.
Doc and Marty reached the jail moments later. "Too bad we don't have the sleep inducer," Marty said under his breath, remembering another rescue attempt in the Middle Ages. Doc shot him a sharp look to keep his mouth shut. Marty obliged.
"Evening, sir," Doc said to the man standing before the prison. "We were sent to relieve you of your duties."
The man, a big burly fellow that brought to Marty's mind images of the Incredible Hulk, looked at Doc skeptically. "Are you sure of these words?" he asked. "I was told it was my night for the midnight watch."
"The minds were changed," Doc said carefully. "You--your family needs you, posthaste!"
In the dim glow of moonlight, Marty saw the man's expression shift from suspicion to concern. "Has my Charity taken a turn?"
"Ah, yes, she has," Doc said. "That's why we are here to relieve you."
The man nodded, handing Doc the rifle he had. "Thank you," he said, hurrying away from the prison. Doc reached into his pocket and pulled out the ring of keys, unlocking the large door. "Here," he said before stepping inside, handing Marty the rifle.
Marty took the gun with a grimace; he still hated those things! As soon as he got inside, Marty set the gun down. He followed Doc through the prison, lit by torches on the walls. They came across Amanda in the first cell, with two other women. The young woman was slumped on a bench, her head bowed.
"Amanda," Doc whispered. Amanda's head shot up at the sound of her name. She looked around, catching sight of the two figures hovering outside the jail cell. A faint gasp escaped from her lips.
"Leave me alone!" she hissed. "I wish not to confess and damn others to this fate!"
"Relax, Amanda, we're the good guys," Marty whispered, lowering the hood and showing his face.
Amanda's face lit up for a moment and she jumped to her feet, hurrying over to the bars. "Have all senses fled you?" she asked softly. "It be the death of you both if you are caught in here! How is it you passed the guard outside?"
"We have our ways," Marty said. "And keys to this joint from our escape."
Amanda's eyes widened as Doc reached into his pocket and pulled out the ring of keys. "Your sister is waiting for you in the woods," Doc murmured to her, his words hardly audible to Marty's ears. "The both of you will be leaving this area, until the witchcraft dies down. Do you understand?"
Amanda looked puzzled, but she nodded. "How shall we know when the fear dies down?"
"It will be safe to return by October of this year," Doc said. "You could wait longer if you wish, but if you return in October you should be fine."
He unlocked the cell door, allowing Amanda to slip out. The other prisoners looked up in interest at the sound of the door opening, but before they could get up, Doc quickly shut and locked it. He pushed Amanda towards the door.
"Why cannot they come as well?" Amanda wanted to know as she was led towards freedom.
"It's too complicated to explain," Doc said. "And they would likely not get far before being recaptured."
Amanda nodded in agreement, though she wore an expression of uncertainty on her face. The three of them made it safely outside without incident. Doc took a moment to lock the door at his back, then hustled Marty and Amanda towards the woods, where Kezia waited. "Kezia," Doc whispered, when they entered the safety of the trees.
A darker shadow emerged from the shadows of the trees. Then another one. Marty blinked, wondering if he was seeing things. A moment later, a match was struck. It was little light, but enough for Marty to see Mara Schaefer standing with Kezia Goode. And Mara had a large knife in one hand, the blade aimed towards the other girl.
"I am pleased you could make it out, Amanda," Mara said pleasantly. "It would give me great pleasure if you would join us for a walk, or I'm afraid you may no longer have a sister."
Amanda glared at Kezia, her hands on her hips. "What are you doing, Mara?"
Mara tilted her head towards the deeper woods. "Come along and I shall explain," she said, letting the match drop to the ground and stomping it out. "You both, as well," she added to Doc and Marty.
Marty frowned, though it was too dark for the blond girl to see the expression. "Oh right," he said, rolling his eyes. "You expect us to come along with you? Dream on!"
"I shall slit Kezia with the knife if you both do not follow me," Mara said calmly. "Do you want the death of this girl on your hands?"
Marty heard Doc sigh from beside him. "We'll come along," the scientist told Mara. Mara nodded, then turned and started walking. Her pace was slow at best as she gripped Kezia with one hand and the knife with the other.
"Doc!" Marty hissed when they had dropped several places behind the girls. "What are you, crazy?! Why should we be doing this!"
"Because if we don't go along and Kezia is killed--perhaps Amanda as well--it could have disastrous results for the space-time continuum," Doc said in a low voice. "Without us, it is likely both sisters would still be in jail now. Perhaps they would be some of those eventually hanged, or perhaps they would be some of those pardoned. We don't know. But it is nearly certain that they never met this particular fate originally, and we should do our best to help them out of it."
"Even if it means risking our necks?" Marty muttered.
"Do you want to return to a strange future?" Doc asked.
Just remembering the few alternate realities he'd seen was enough to make Marty back down. "All right," he sighed. "But man, this could get dangerous!"
"At least she hasn't a gun," Doc said.
"We think," Marty muttered. "Now I wish I'd kept that rifle!"
Mara led them deep into the wilderness, then abruptly stopped. "This is it," she said in a breathless voice. "Keep still now, or I shalt hesitate to relieve Kezia of her life!"
Amanda, Marty, and Doc halted a few feet away. Mara dragged Kezia over to a tree. While holding the girl's wrist in one hand, Mara put the knife between her teeth and quickly pulled out a length of rope. Marty watched in surprise as she tied Kezia to the tree, wrapping the rope around and around her. Kezia dare not try an escape, what with Mara so close with the knife.
"What are you doing, Mara?" Amanda asked, finally. "Why are you doing this?"
"I need a sacrifice," Mara said, so casually and so normally that Marty wasn't sure he'd heard her right.
"What?" he asked. "You need a sacrifice? As in a human sacrifice?!"
Mara nodded, frowning as she knotted the rope behind the tree. "I have to have protection in these times," she said in that same normal, pleasant voice. "I cannot be put away like so many before. And I sense that my time is comin', so I need the protection the Devil promised me....with a sacrifice."
Amanda gasped. "You do not mean you really be a witch!" she whispered.
Mara nodded. "Aye, I am a witch. I, Mara Schaefer, the last one they would expect in this town. I've given the townsfolk a list of names to keep them happy, but I fear that they will soon resent me for their help and point a finger towards me. I cannot have that, as my work is not yet finished. So the Devil came to me and spoke to me and told me if I could sacrifice a human and have their loved ones watch their demise, the Devil would fill me with a protection that cannot be stopped!"
"You're crazy!" Marty blurted out, unable to stop himself. Mara scowled at him, a lock of her hair escaping from her white cap and falling into her eyes.
"I would watch your tongue, young man. I shall not hesitate to draw more blood tonight if I hear remarks from you all. Anyhow," Mara added, "I know not if you should live to see another dawn. I believe it would be a poor idea to leave you all living after I am done."
Marty looked at Doc, frowning. "Gee, I knew this would be a bad idea," he muttered to the scientist in a low voice, as Mara finished her job of tying Kezia up.
Even in the darkness, Marty could see the sharp look Doc gave him to keep his mouth shut. Amanda didn't see such a look and seemed determined on speaking her mind, even with her sister's life hanging in the balance.
"Why are you doing this to us?" Amanda demanded. "How did you know about the escape tonight?"
Mara tested the ropes, found them secure, and nodded in satisfaction to herself. She glanced at Amanda as she answered her question. "I am doing this to you because I am able. The town thinks you witches now, and your...disappearance shall not be missed nor questioned. As to how I knew of the plans tonight, they came to me in a vision as the Devil told me where to find those best suited for the sacrifice he expects of me."
Amanda frowned at the answer, though Marty couldn't tell if it was because she didn't believe it, or because she wasn't happy with the turn of events. She watched Mara as the blond girl gathered up wood from the surrounding forest floor and started to pile it at Kezia's ankles. "Why are you not tying us up?" Amanda wanted to know.
"Why should I have the need to?" Mara said. "Shall anyone escape, I will kill Kezia immediately, with the knife. Granted, 'tis not the way I wish for her to go, but her death will be swift and bloody. You will be cursed and haunted by it."
"But you're gonna kill her anyway," Marty said. "So why do we have to hang out here and watch it?"
Mara smiled at him, the expression containing no warmth. At the sight of that look, Marty wondered vaguely if she was in any way related to the Tannen family line. "You speak of running, but you do not," she said. "You know the fate that will befall Kezia if you so choose to run."
Marty looked at Doc. "Let's leave!" he hissed when he was sure Mara couldn't hear him. "This is stupid! I don't want to see someone gutted, then get killed for it myself!"
Doc shook his head slightly. "We can't," he murmured back. "This didn't befall the sisters originally."
"Yeah, it got some other poor sucker instead," Marty muttered.
"Perhaps not," Doc answered. "We must wait and fix this."
I'd like to fix her, Marty thought, scowling at Mara's back. It was bad enough she accused most of the town--and both Doc and himself--of being witches. But doing this as well! Marty really wished he hadn't left that rifle back in the jail! I'd like to knock some sense into her with that!
Wait a minute. Marty suddenly looked at the ground. Just because he didn't have a heavy rifle didn't mean he couldn't bean the blond witch. He spotted a sizable piece of wood near his feet. When Mara's back was turned and her attention diverted by stacking an increasingly large woodpile at Kezia's feet, Marty bent over, scooped up the wood, then swiftly hid it under his cloak. Doc watched him without a word. By the time Mara turned around to look at him, the dark shadows and Marty's darker clothing gave not the slightest hint that anything was amiss.
"What are you going to do to my sister?" Amanda demanded.
Mara gave another smile with not a shred of warmth in it. "I am going to do what they do to the witches in Europe," she said. "Burn her."
Amanda's reaction gave not a thought to the effect it might have on her life, or Kezia's. "No!" she cried, lunging for Mara. Mara whirled around, her long skirts flying, and kicked Amanda hard in the stomach in a move reminiscent of some of those Kung Fu movies Marty and his friends sometimes watched. Marty's mouth dropped open at the speed and agility Mara had shown, as well as shock from the unconventional move. The younger girl fell to the ground, her face turning white as she gasped for the air she'd lost.
"Next time, I'll use the knife on you!" Mara said, scowling down at Amanda on the ground. She trained her eyes to Doc and Marty. Marty felt a faint chill down his spine at the expression in those eyes, devoid of any warmth or flicker of sanity. "I should be hoping that you men will be wiser than she," Mara said.
"Certainly," Doc agreed amiably. Marty nodded as well, hoping the blond girl before him hadn't a clue on what he clutched under his cloak. Mara watched them for a moment, then returned to building Kezia's funeral pyre. Amanda continued to gasp for air. Man, Marty thought, his eyes drifting to Mara's back, that girl is fast!
Marty looked over at Doc, wondering when he should try his move. He had an added advantage that Amanda hadn't -- Mara had her back to him and her guard down. Still, if he screwed this up....
Marty halted the idea before it could grow into something uglier. Doc nodded at him, giving him permission to proceed with his hastily conceived plan. Marty took a step forward, clenching his hands around the heavy branch still concealed under his cloak. Mara didn't turn around. Kezia stared at him, her eyes pleading him for help. Marty took another step forward, praying that Mara wouldn't look up and ruin this prime opportunity for him. Just one good hit to daze her, he thought. That's all I need....
Mara suddenly turned around. Marty slammed on the breaks. Mara didn't even notice he'd grown closer; she scooped up some more wood and continued to stack it at the base of the tree. Marty took another cautious step forward, five feet now separating him from Mara. Another step. Four feet. Another one.
Marty started to lift the branch up, readying it for the blow. Mara nearly startled him out of his wits, then, by speaking, her back to him.
"I would not be so foolish," she said softly.
Rattled that she'd seen the attack coming, Marty decided to proceed anyway. "Well, bitch, I'm not you!" he said, swinging the branch as hard as he could at Mara's head. In a move quicker than he could've imagined, the girl rolled out of the way. Marty, unable to stop the momentum of the swing, hit Kezia instead, right in the knees. The hostage moaned in pain.
"Oh, God, I'm sor--oof!" Marty's apology was cut off as Mara shoved him to the ground, hard. Before Marty could get to his feet again, Mara jumped on him and slugged him in the face. The blow was incredibly hard, pushing Marty to the edge of blackout.
Wow, he thought, feeling his surroundings whirl around him, she sure doesn't hit like a girl!
"Leave me be with my witchery," she hissed to Marty, as he struggled to keep the away the darkness that threatened to overtake his vision. "There be powers at work that you should not want to touch!"
"Leave us alone," Marty mumbled in response, the words coming out weak even to his ears. Mara narrowed her eyes at him and drew her fist back to slug him again and likely put him out of commission for the rest of her bizarre plan.
"Mara," Doc said, speaking up for the first time. "You don't want to hurt him."
Mara looked over at Doc, her expression mocking. "And why be the reasons?"
Marty rolled his head over to look at Doc. His friend was frowning , looking tremendously displeased. "Don't you know?" Doc asked in a low voice. "I am a witch as well."
Mara lowered her fist and looked at him skeptically. Doc now had her full attention. "Be that a lie," she said, though there was a hint of a questioning tone in her voice.
Doc shook his head. "No, it isn't. If you don't stop this nonsense and let us all go, then I'm afraid I'll have to harm you."
Mara leaned back. She still appeared extremely doubtful. "How is it that you've not demonstrated such powers before?"
An excellent question, Marty thought, starting to feel a little more aware of his surroundings. Mara slid off him and stood up. Her hands were empty, and it was only then Marty noticed the knife lying a few feet away, at Kezia's feet. While Doc had Mara's rapt attention, Marty started inching his left hand towards the sharp blade.
"I didn't want people to know my true nature," Doc said. "I'm sure you can understand that."
Mara nodded slowly. "Aye," she said softly. "But if you be speaking truth, demonstrate your powers to me."
"What about you?" Doc asked, smoothly shifting the question back to Mara. "I haven't seen any supernatural demonstrations from you this evening."
Mara snorted softly, taking her white cap off her hair and letting it fall to the ground. "Is it not obvious my strength? I've brought down your friend and Amanda better than most men can."
"But what else can you do?" Doc asked. "Surely there is more."
"There will be more, once the sacrifice is complete," Mara said, taking the pins from her hair and giving it a shake, allowing her blond hair free reign. Marty's fingers reached the wooden handle of the knife and he clenched his hand around it. Mara didn't notice, still watching Doc. Confidence dripped out of her every pour.
"What of you?" she asked. "What can you do with your powers."
"I can bend the very fabric of time," Doc said.
Mara looked at Doc with more than a little skepticism. "What say you?"
"I can travel through time," Doc repeated, though that probably would not lessen Mara's confusion. "I have all of history at my fingertips."
Mara placed her hands on her hips, tilting her head to one side. Marty slipped the knife under his cloak, sitting up slowly and cautiously. Things titled unevenly around him for a moment, then evened out. The right side of his face, where Mara had hit him, still throbbed.
"How is it you came to this power?" she asked. "Teach me how to do it."
"I can't," Doc said. "It cannot be taught. But what I can do with time should not concern you, Mara. I want you to let us all go without harm and forget this sacrificial nonsense."
Even to Marty's ears, it sounded like a tremendous request. Mara laughed at Doc's words. "And what will you do if I choose not?" she asked. "Why should I fear you?"
Doc Brown met Mara's eyes, narrowing his into dark slits. "Because, Mara Schaefer, I do not forget who displease me! And my enemies often face eternal torment."
Mara laughed again. "Oh, my, you are quite one for dramatic turns, are you not?"
Marty crawled to his feet, quietly. Amanda remained on the ground on the other side of Mara, likely too terrified to stand. God, Marty thought, wondering what he should do with the knife. He didn't want to hurt Mara, even though she was a psycho. Marty had so far managed not to kill anyone while time traveling and he had no desire to break that record now.
Then it came to him--he could free Kezia! After all, she was the only reason the rest of them were there. If she could get away, the rest of them could as well. Marty snuck around to the other side of the tree while Doc kept Mara distracted.
"I have another power, as well," Doc said, as Marty started sawing through the ropes with the knife.
"What be that?" Mara asked.
Doc reached into the pocket of his coat and withdrew something small. "I have the power to blind my enemies with light!"
As soon as the words left his lips, a beam of light suddenly shot from his hands and hit Mara right in the eyes. The blond witch let out a cry and stepped back, tripping over the pile of wood at the base of the tree and falling to the ground. Marty paused for a moment, wondering what Doc was doing--then he knew.
It's a flashlight! I'll be damned....
Doc stepped forward, towards Mara, keeping the light in her eyes. It was the brightest light Marty had seen since arriving in the past and was surely terrifying Mara.
The first couple ropes broke. Marty hurriedly worked on the remaining ones, knowing that this distraction Doc has cooked up would likely work only a few more minutes at most.
"What is it?" Mara asked, her voice rising shrilly. "What is it you are doing to me?"
"I warned you of my powers," Doc said gravely. "You chose not to listen. Let us go before it is too late!"
"I cannot see!" Mara cried. "I cannot see anything but light!"
Doc turned off the flashlight. Marty finished sawing through the rest of the ropes and yanked them down, then grabbed Kezia by the arm and pulled her behind the tree with him. Amanda saw the both of them and finally crawled to her feet, as Mara was blinking and wiping at her eyes.
"I am blind!" she shrieked, panicking. "I cannot see! My eyes are wiped from sight!"
"It should pass," Doc said, unsympathetically. He leaned over, grabbed some of the rope that had held Kezia, and grabbed hold of Mara's wrists. "Hold still, now, or I will do worse than merely blind you!"
Mara trembled as Doc wound the rope around her wrists, then her ankles. "What are you to do with me?" she moaned, sounding like nothing more than a frightened teenage girl now.
Doc frowned as he knotted the rope. "Nothing," he finally said. "But should you try to harm anyone else in the village or accuse anyone else of witchcraft, I will come back for you. And this time, what I will do will be a lot worse than a case of temporary blindness."
Mara nodded, blinking rapidly. Marty wondered if her sight was starting to come back now. "Aye," she agreed. "I'll leave this town, anyhow. Will you be leaving me here?"
"Yes," Doc said, testing the ropes and nodding to himself. He got to his feet. "It shouldn't take you more than a few hours to free yourself in some way."
Mara looked at him as Doc started out of the clearing, Marty, Amanda, and Kezia following. "Wait! If I am not to free myself...."
"Then that's your problem," Marty snapped, answering before Doc could. "You wanted to kill us! You should be happy we're not giving you the same treatment!"
Mara could say nothing in response to that.
"Why did you allow her to live?" Kezia asked Doc Brown softly, as they walked away from the sight of Mara's planned sacrifice. "She wanted us dead, and I shalt be surprised if she chooses another for her morbid plans."
Doc sighed. "I could not kill her," he said. "That would have created far too many problems. Anyway, I didn't want to kill her--why stoop to her level?"
"What makes you trust her words?" Amanda wanted to know. "She's a witch, in conversation with the Devil. She should not be trusted."
Doc sighed again. "I didn't know what else to do. I think we are very fortunate that Mara believed my words."
The girls both looked at the scientist in surprise. "What do you mean? I thought you were a witch!" Kezia said. "Do you mean to tell me you are not?"
"He was just pretending," Marty said. "All that stuff he said?" Marty waved his hand. "Lies."
Amanda looked at Doc, her eyes narrowed. "What about this light you blinded Mara with? I don't believe I've seen a trick like that before."
Doc swallowed hard, wishing that he could've come up with an alternate way to deceive Mara that didn't require the use of future technology. "Oh, that? Well, that's just a little trick of mine that uses nothing more than basic scientific principals."
The sisters looked at him, skeptical. Doc decided it was a wonderful time to change the subject. "You two should start on your trip out of town," he reminded them. "Tonight's little incident should not deter you from those plans."
The girls both nodded. Kezia stopped walking. "We were to head north, along the shoreline," she told Amanda, tugging on her sister's sleeve.
Amanda looked at Doc in surprise. "Does this mean we part now?"
Doc smiled at the young women. "Yes, I'm afraid it does. We've got to go a completely different route."
Amanda nodded. "Thank you much for giving my sister and I freedom."
"Well, thank you for taking the both of us in," Doc said, for both himself and Marty. "And for keeping us concealed in your attic."
"Will we meet again?" Kezia asked.
Marty shook his head. "I'd doubt it," he said. "We live pretty far away."
"The best of luck to you, then," Amanda said, as she and her sister started walking away. Doc raised his hand in a wave.
"The same to you," he said.
When the girls had vanished from sight, Doc checked his compass and map with the flashlight, trying to get an idea on where they were, then started off in the direction of the clearing where they had arrived. Marty followed him, silent for a few minutes before the inevitable comments began.
"That was sure lucky that you brought that flashlight with you!" he said, glancing at the object in Doc's hand as he used it to illuminate their path. "I don't know what would've happened without it."
"I'm sure we would have found a way out of that mess, one way or another," Doc said. Marty frowned, shaking his head. Even in the dim light, Doc could see a nasty red welt on his right cheek, where Mara had hit him.
"I dunno. That girl was strong! Hell, she almost knocked me out just from hitting me once in the face! And this is a Colonial girl we're talking about, not some Kung Fu woman in the future! Did you see what she did to Amanda?" Marty shook his head again. "It was damn lucky you had that flashlight! Maybe we should always carry things from the future with us! They've certainly saved our asses before!"
Doc shook his head hard at the very idea. "I don't think so! The only reason I had that light in my pocket in the first place was because Clara left me before I had time to leave it in the train! We're lucky it wasn't discovered when they accused me of being a witch, or I might be in substantially hotter water than I was already! Objects from future times have far too much potential for disaster--remember the sports almanac?"
"How could I forget that?" Marty said. "But the hoverboard saved your life--and Clara's--in 1885. Remember? It helped us get that almanac in 1955, and future stuff helped me get my parents together with that alien invasion thing I did to my dad. The hoverboard also saved my neck in Egypt. And in the Middle Ages, when you used those remote-controlled arrows, that probably saved us, too!"
Doc nodded. "Yes, there are sometimes advantages to having future technology at our fingertips--but the potential for disaster is great. Every time you introduce a new technology or object to a past time, you alter things. Maybe that altercation can work for us and have little impact on the future, but as we saw in the case of Biff and the almanac, the wrong objects in the wrong hands could destroy the world as we know it! I still believe it is better to be safe than sorry!"
"But Doc," Marty said, "we're sorta objects from the future. If you get too paranoid about it, why even time travel?"
"I've had those same thoughts," Doc admitted. "But even after I had Clara and the boys, I still felt as if I was missing something....that's why I built the train. I've now spent over half my life dealing with time travel and that's a long, long time. I can't give it up now. I enjoy it too much and, though the risks are staggering, if one is careful, bad things shouldn't happen. But yes, I understand the potential for disaster that even the briefest of trips may have--why do you think I never told anyone but my family, you, and Jennifer about the time machines?"
"I could see why you didn't," Marty said. "Did you ever want to tell people about it, though?"
Doc chuckled, recalling his dreams in the days before the first DeLorean had been completed. "Oh, yes. That was what my plans had been, originally. But I was naive then on the risks time travel had; it was only after your trip that I understood why I could never let anyone in the scientific community know about the breakthrough in temporal travel."
"Do you still want to tell people about it?" Marty asked softly.
"The temptation is always there," Doc admitted. "Especially with those idiots in Hill Valley who think I'm a crackpot. But it's a small temptation. Why risk everything I've gained with my life's work for some fame and fortune?" Doc shook his head. "It's not worth it, Marty. I'm happier now then I ever thought I could be, and I'd never ever jeopardize that from wanting my ego stroked."
Marty nodded in agreement. "Speaking of Clara, are you gonna come down hard on her for doing this to us?" he asked.
Doc smiled slightly. "I've got a better idea...."
Tuesday, July 8, 1692
3:56AM
"Marty."
At the sound of his name, Marty stirred. "What's it?" he mumbled.
"It's almost time. Come on, wake up."
Marty opened his eyes, yawning. Doc Brown stood over him, his pocket watch in one hand. Moonlight flooded the clearing where they'd been camping out for about 24 hours now, waiting for the return of the time machines. It had been a long, boring wait in Marty's opinion.
"How much longer?" he asked, sitting up.
"Less than four minutes now," Doc said. "Do you remember what we discussed earlier?"
"Of course." Marty got to his feet, picking his jacket off the ground that he'd been laying on. "Man, I can't wait to get back to the future!" He paused, looking up at the clear sky overhead. "Are you sure you want to do this to Clara and Jen? I still think hearing about the way this trip went would be enough for them."
Doc nodded. "Maybe it is rather childish and immature," he admitted, "but perhaps this will show her that using time travel for this purpose is a poor idea."
The last couple minutes dragged by. Then, suddenly, the calm of the night was shattered by triple sonic booms and flashes of blue-green light. Marty blinked, his eyes dazzled, then the train was suddenly above them. It stopped and landed carefully on the clearing floor. A moment later, the window slid open and Clara poked her head out.
"Emmett?" she called. "Did you and Marty mend your friendship?"
"No," Doc said, frowning, heading for the train as Marty hung back. "And we never will, Clara. We haven't even spoken since you left us, and we're not starting now! The friendship is over."
Clara blinked. It was obviously not the answer she had expected. "Oh, nonsense," she said. "You just need more time, then --"
"Clara!" Doc said, raising his voice. "Do you realize where you left us? In the middle of the Salem Witch Trials! If you leave us here any longer, the both of us will surely be killed!"
"The Salem Witch Trials?" Clara repeated. Her eyes widened. "Oh, no, I didn't!"
Doc nodded. "You did. Now please stop this foolishness and let the both of us on."
"Wait a minute!" Marty said, before Clara could respond to Doc's demand. "Where's Jennifer?"
"Jennifer was going to meet us in 1986," Clara reported. "It made no sense to use two time machines to transport you both back...." She paused, narrowing her eyes. "Wait a moment. I wasn't born yesterday, Emmett!"
Doc looked completely and sincerely baffled. "What are you talking about?"
Clara leaned on the windowsill. "You and Marty wouldn't breathe the same air, let alone stay in the same location, while you were fighting. If you're still mad and not speaking, then how did he know that you were to meet back here now? That Jennifer had come along?"
Doc tried to hold a serious expression, but the sharp look from Clara made it waver, then break. A sheepish smile replaced it. "All right, Clara. You're right. We did make up. But," he added, as Clara smiled in satisfaction that her plan had worked out, "you are never going to do this again! Time travel should not be used for matters such as these. I cannot believe you went behind my back like this!"
"Yeah," Marty chimed in. "And Doc was telling the truth about the witch trials. We both could've been hung if we hadn't made a break out of the jail!"
Clara's smug look faded. "I really am sorry about that," she said, sounding horrified. "I had no idea those events occurred now!"
Doc made an impatient noise at the back of his throat. "We'll have a discussion about that later. Right now, can you let us on the train so we can go home?"
Clara vanished from the window. A second later the door opened with a whoosh of air and gears. She stood in the doorway, dressed as one of the women from Salem. "I'm sorry, Emmett," she said softly as both Marty and Doc headed for the door. "I never meant for either of you to be hurt."
Doc managed a smile at her as he boarded the train. "It's okay, I suppose--this time. But next time this happens, I may not be so forgiving."
"Anyway, Clara, Doc and I talked things out," Marty added, squeezing past the couple to take a seat on the bench at the back. "This shouldn't happen again--us fighting, I mean. I think this is the first time we've really fought before, since first becoming friends."
Clara looked troubled, though. "Emmett, I never would have left you both here if I knew the events presently occurring!"
"Clara, honey, things turned out fine. Don't worry about it." Doc gave her a quick kiss and a hug. Clara hugged him back, hard. Marty politely turned his head towards the window, looking outside.
"Now," Doc said a moment later, "take a seat and I'll get us back home where we belong!"
Friday, October 10, 1986
9:37PM
Hill Valley, California
Jennifer Parker met them in the lab, as they came up from the cellar where the train was stored. "Marty!" she cried, rushing for her boyfriend as he stepped away from the stairs. "I'm so sorry about what I did to you! Did you and Doc fix things?"
Marty caught his girlfriend in his arms with a smile. "I'm fine. Yes, Doc and I are friends again. And you owe me so big for leaving me in the past the way you did! That was way sneaky."
Jennifer looked at him, wincing a bit. "I'm really sorry about that, but I knew it'd have to happen like that. I couldn't have gotten you to go, otherwise."
"You're right about that," Marty agreed.
Jules and Verne--who had been waiting with Jennifer--stepped forward as their parents emerged from the cellar stairs. "How was the trip?" Verne asked, as Doc closed the trap door and replaced the rug over it.
"It was interesting," Doc said. "But I've said this to your mother, and I'll say it to you kids as well--don't ever use time travel for a reason like that again! It's far too dangerous to those people involved and the space-time continuum."
"It wasn't my idea," Jules and Verne said simultaneously.
"Mom's the one who came up with it," Verne added. "So blame here!"
"I've already discussed it with your mother," Doc said.
Jennifer grimaced, feeling horrible for Clara getting all the blame in this situation. "Dr. Brown, don't blame it all on your wife. I was sort of the one who gave her the idea in the first place."
"Not about the time travel," Clara was quick to add, as Doc turned his eyes on Jennifer. "That was all my doing."
Doc closed his eyes a moment and sighed. "All right, ladies. I don't care anymore who did what or whose idea it was. It's in the past, things worked out for the best--just don't let history repeat itself next time."
"We won't," Jennifer and Clara promised.
Marty looked at his girlfriend. "If I remember correctly, we were in the middle of a date when you took me back. It's still early; let's finish it."
Jennifer was amazed. "What? After everything that happened tonight?" She sighed. "I'm surprised you don't want to hang me."
Marty paled a bit at the words, smiling a trifle nervously. "You just owe me real big," he said again. "But," he added, leaning close and whispering in her ear, "thanks for what you did."