Yep, it’s finally that day, the day Marty McFly went to the future, from 1985 to 2015, on a rainy October night… tonight.
There may be no Hill Valley California… or is there? Below, I’ve included a 500 word flash story I wrote for the Iron Writer Autumnal Equinox Tournament (it got second place in its bracket!) for your enjoyment.
Marty McFly Must Die!
E. Chris Garrison
“Here we are, Jen, October 21st, 2015 at last! International Marty McFly day!” cried Calvin, as we arrived on the scene at Hill Valley, California.
Well, there’s no real Hill Valley, but Calvin and I had worked things out using clues from the movie, which led us to Inyo County, California.
I squeezed his hand and said, “Wow, looks like we’re not the only ones who figured this out. Just look at all of the DeLoreans! Did they even make that many?”
There had to be at least a couple dozen of the retro-futuristic stainless steel gull-winged cars scattered across the field, a few giving off vapor, encrusted in frost. Dozens of Marty McFly cosplayers milled around, quoting catchphrases. There were plenty of puffy orange vests, some iridescent ball caps, ridiculous cowboy duds, and even a few leather jackets and walkie talkies.
“I think we’re underdressed,” I said, looking over our outfits. I’d attempted a genderswapped suspendered 1985 Marty, with a replica pink Mattel hoverboard for a prop. Calvin had cheaped out and wore a Mexican serape, bowler hat, and cowboy boots.
Just as we passed under the banner that welcomed us to the makeshift camp site, Doc Brown leaped in front of us and grabbed us by the shoulders. His eyes wild, his white hair singed on the tips, he said, “You kids! You’re from this timeline! Which one’s the real Marty?”
Calvin laughed. “Awesome!”
I smiled at him. “All of them?”
The Doc’s eyes squinted at me. “Aren’t you a clever girl. If you’re so smart, how can a movie character come to life?”
“Well, you just said, ‘this timeline’. Maybe this is 2015A, where Marty never existed, only movies about him.”
Calvin said, “This guy’s creepin’ me out, let’s book it.”
Doc pushed him aside and stared into my eyes. “Good, good. What if I told you one of them, the original, carries a mutant form of West Nile Virus from 2015 prime that would wipe out all of mankind if even the first mosquito of the season bit him?”
Calvin shoved back. “It’s November!”
I said, “I guess you’d have to pick the right one and do something drastic to save the future.”
“Precisely!” cried the Doc. “Now, which one?”
“This is stupid,” said Calvin as I scanned the field.
“Well, we first see Marty in the Doc’s lab in 1985, with the breakfast machine.”
Doc Brown slapped his forehead. “Of course!” He pulled a long rifle from under his lab coat. He aimed at a puffy-vested Marty, carrying a jug of instant pancake batter. The look-a-like raised his hands and screamed.
All the Martys screamed.
“That’s heavy,” said Calvin.
The Doc swung around and aimed at my boyfriend’s chest. “The machine didn’t make pancakes.” Doc Brown fired. Calvin fell down.
The time travel paradox resolved, I stood over Calvin’s body in an empty field.
He cracked an eye open. “Are they gone?”
“Yes! I guess he never saw Back to the Future III!”
Calvin threw back his serape to reveal his makeshift vintage 1885 cast iron bulletproof vest. “Who’s chicken now?”