Back To The Future || Part Zero

Chapter Four

"Professor?" Marty asked, straining his eyes in the darkness, trying to see something, anything. But everything was completely and utterly black. "Hello?" he called, listening hard for any sound.

After a moment, Marty reached into his pocket and pulled out a matchbook. He ripped a match free and struck it against the sandpaper. Marty held it up as it lit, looking around the room. It looked like he was in some kind of storeroom. Marty took a step forward, almost running into an old broken chair. He dodged it last minute and strolled slowly around the room, trying to figure out where the hell he was. Dusty furniture and crates littered the room.
The match was starting to burn Marty's fingers and he dropped it, fumbling to light another. He walked towards the door, having the nagging feeling that something was strangely out of place. Where the hell am I? he wondered. Marty reached for the doorknob and tried turning it. Locked.

"Damn!" he hissed, looking around for a way out. Marty spotted a window and went over to it, holding his breath as he tried to slide it open. It slid and he carefully climbed outside on to a fire escape. He scrambled down the unstable structure and dropped to the alley below.

Just as his feet scraped the pavement, Marty noticed a pair of headlights approaching him, fast. He stood there for a minute, frozen in the beams, then jumped back and pressed himself against the wall of the building. The truck sped by, missing him by inches!

Marty let out a loud sigh of relief as he watched the truck drive off, then noticed the sign on the door that he was right next to. "Wilson's Cafe, Rear Entrance," it said. Marty tried the door, expecting it to be locked.

But the knob turned freely in his hand. Strange. For as long as he could remember the back door had been locked. Marty stepped inside. "Hey, since when are you open at..." he started to say, then stopped when he got a good look around. It couldn't be Wilson's Cafe!

Everything in the room looked brand new...but at the same time, old. Dick wasn't behind the counter; a women of maybe thirty was. Marty looked up at the menu and gasped. Since when were roast beef sandwiches 30 cents, and an ice cream sunday 15 cents? He tore his eyes off the prices long enough to notice the people. Boy, did he notice them! All the men were in double-breasted suits, with hats. And not baseball caps, either! Marty noticed all the women were in skirts -- long skirts. Not one was in any type of pants, like jeans. And the way people had their hair done.... Those styles went out ages ago!

A chubby five-year-old boy, dressed in pajamas, was playing on the floor with some trucks. Marty almost tripped over him as he walked slowly around, his mouth open with amazement, gazing at everything. After a moment he realized the woman behind the counter was staring at him, a suspicious look on her face. "You want something, kid?" she asked, leaning forward across the counter.

Marty hesitated for a moment, then sat down. He decided he needed to blend in as much as he could. The silver Porsche jacket alone that he had on was causing way too many stares. "Uh, yeah..." he said slowly. "Gimme a Tab."

"What?" the waitress asked, frowning.
"A Tab," Marty repeated.

The waitress rolled her eyes. "Kid, I can't give you the tab until you order something."

Marty tried to ignore the stares everyone was giving him and looked down at the counter. He saw the man beside him had a cup of coffee.

"Uh, coffee," he told the waitress. She reached over and poured him a cup.

"Did something happen to you, kid?" she wondered. "I mean, you been lost in the woods or something?"

Marty looked at her blankly. "Huh?" He noticed a bowl of sugar cubes on the counter and added, "Say, have you got any Sweet 'N Low?"