Back To The Future || Part Zero

Chapter Twelve

Marty stood on stage with the band, playing "Turn Back the Hands of Time" with them. He could see his parents dancing cheek to cheek in the middle of the dance floor. Marty watched them carefully as the song ended, holding his breath. They leaned forward slowly, hesitantly....then their lips met in a kiss! He smiled in relief, then checked the time. A few minutes before midnight.

Marty stepped forward to the microphone set up. "Well, folks, that about wraps it up for this evening...." he began.

The students moaned in disappointment. "Aww, one more! Just one more!" they pleaded.

"You want one more, huh?" Marty looked at the clock again, then turned to the band. None of them appeared to have any objections. He looked at the crowd, considering, then finally decided to go for it. "Well, I probably shouldn't do this, but what the hell, you're gonna be hearing a lot of this in the future anyway...." He turned around. "Follow me, fellas," he told the band members.

Marty walked over to his amp and twisted the volume to the maximum amount it would go. He placed his guitar against it and shattered the expectant silence of the gym with a loud riff from the instrument. The audience looked both shocked and horrified, and the band exchanged looks of confusion. Marty started in on a Chuck Berry song, "Johnny B. Goode," expressions in the gym changing to astonishment. It took a moment, but the band finally figured out what was going on and joined in. Marty grinned as the first -- very first -- sound of rock 'n roll was heard.

Kids started dancing, only a few at first, then more joined in. Marty started moving on stage, like the rockers did at heavy metal concerts. The crowd roared, total pandemonium breaking out on the dance floor. No one had ever heard this kind of music before! The band got more and more enthusiastic as the chaperones clasped their hands tightly to their ears, horrified expressions on their faces.

Marty shifted the music to "Rock Around the Clock," noting in satisfaction that the entire gym was dancing to the music. He loosened the tie around his neck, sweating from those hot stage lights, then decided to just take his jacket off. He yanked it off his body and tossed it into the crowd.

Meanwhile, out in the hall, an old teacher who had been chaperoning the dance was on the phone. "That's right, officer," she cried into the phone, over the music, "there's a riot in the school gym!"

In the gym, on the stage, the man with the sax stepped forward and improvised an impressive solo. Then it was Marty's turn. He reached up and tore open his shirt, making all the girls shriek. Finally, with a nervous look at the clock, he wrapped the music up with a final riff. The walls of the gym shook with the applause. Marty took a bow and smiled at the crowd. Behind him, the Midnighters were breathless with all the excitement.

"Good night, everybody!" Marty shouted into the mike. He stepped back, heading for the door, but the band members crowded around him.

"Man, that stuff cooks! That's the hottest sound I ever heard!" "You gotta play that Monday for that record company cat from New York!"

Marty lost the smile on his face, suddenly serious. "I won't be there Monday." The band members looked stunned. Marty continued to talk before they could ask any questions.

"And don't you guys play it either," he cautioned. "It's time hasn't come yet. If you play it, you might screw things up. It'll happen on it's own."

"What are you talking about?" Lester wondered.

"Rock'n roll!" Marty said with a nod. He turned and ran off stage, darting though the halls to the front of the building. Outside, he could see Professor Brown's truck in front of the school, engine idling, waiting to go.

Marty burst out of the school and jumped into the cab, slamming the door behind him. He noticed that the Professor was in an Army uniform. "Everything's cool," he reported breathlessly. "They danced, they kissed, they're in love! Let's go!"

Professor Brown put his foot on the gas and they tore out of the parking lot.

* * *

Several hours later, Marty was still talking about the evening's events to the Professor. "I sure wish I could have seen the punch," he said wistfully as they drove along a dark highway. It was almost three in the morning. "I mean, he decked him -- laid him out cold -- one punch. It must have been beautiful! I didn't know he had it in him!"

Professor Brown took his eyes off the road a moment to look at Marty, something about what he was saying making him uneasy. "You didn't?"

"Nope. My father's never clenched a fist in his entire life!"

"Curious," the Professor muttered, concerned. "Very curious."

Marty shook his head, unaware of the Professor's worries. "I just wish I could have seen it..." He let his voice trail off, staring out the dark window, at the highway unwinding before them. Professor Brown turned his attention back to driving.

For the first time all evening, Marty lapsed into silence. When the Professor next looked at him, ten minutes later, he was slumped back in his seat, his forehead resting against the window, eyes closed and snoring softly. Professor Brown didn't disturb him. Marty'd had a long and busy night and deserved some rest. Especially considering how much work had to be done in the next day.

The light of dawn had hardly begun to shine in the east when they crossed the state line into Nevada. The Professor pulled into a gas station and stopped the car. The tank was running low and they still had a ways to go. Not to mention that, according to a sign next to the station, there would be no more chances to fill up for 150 miles.

Professor Brown turned to Marty and shook him awake, then handed him his bag and told him to go change. As Marty headed for the bathroom, the Professor got out of the truck and headed for the small building where the grizzled gas attendant was waiting.

* * *

Inside the bathroom, Marty quickly changed out of the suit he had worn to the dance and into his 1982 clothes, pulling some Army fatigues and a jacket over them. The Army clothes were a little loose, but it didn't matter. Once he had the clothes on, Marty took the bottles of Coke he had brought with him in his bag and stuffed them deep into the jacket's pockets. He looked in the dusty mirror, checking his appearance to make sure he looked okay and the Coke bottles weren't visible. They weren't. Marty quickly gathered up his things and left the stuffy restroom, joining up with the Professor just as the gas had finished.

"Twenty six gallons," the bearded attendant said, checking the readouts. "That'll be $3.75."

Marty almost choked. Since when was gas so cheap? Before he had much time to reflect on that, Professor Brown paid the man and climbed into the truck. Marty had no choice but to follow and they continued towards the test site.