A huge crowd had gathered near Clayton Ravine, just outside of Hill Valley. The last quarter moon lit up the small meadow as Marty scanned the crowd of teenagers. There were white T-shirts and poodle skirts everywhere. He steered the DeLorean through the throngs of people that had all shown up to see the race. No one had ever challenged Biff Tannen to a race before, and the fact that it was a game of “chicken” meant that nearly every teenager in Hill Valley would be present.
As he expected, Marty’s car drew gasps and stares from everyone that he passed. He barely noticed the fingers pointing as his mind was focused elsewhere. About fifty yards ahead he spied what he’d been seeking. Biff’s ’46 black Super DeLuxe convertible Ford was parked off to the side of the dirt road that led through the meadow and nearly up to the edge of the cliff that dropped a hundred feet down into the ravine.
Marty navigated his way through all the bodies, his headlights illuminating the pink sweaters and poofy hair. As he neared Biff’s car, he saw the usual assortment of lowlifes, Biff’s “posse”, crowded around the automobile. It took Marty a moment to spot Biff sitting in the driver’s seat.
Biff turned his head as Marty pulled up next to him, the crowd buzzing with excitement. The door of the DeLorean whooshed open and Marty stepped out to face his rival.
“Hey McFly!” Biff boomed. “I thought you were bringing a car, not a doorstop!” He erupted in gales of laughter which was quickly echoed by the crowd.
“Yeah, we’ll see what you think of this doorstop after I make you eat my dust.” Marty quipped.
“I don’t eat dust!” Biff yelled. “You’ll eat dust. My dust! I hope you’re hungry McFly!”
“So are we gonna talk all night or are we gonna do this?” asked Marty.
“Oh… we’re gonna do this all right.” Biff sneered. He pointed to a girl wearing a lavender blouse and light blue skirt.
“When she signals, we head for the edge and the first man who jumps chickens out.” Biff grinned and looked around. “That’s why they call it chicken!” he roared to the crowd.
Marty sighed. He really wasn’t going to miss Biff’s moronic comments.
“Really Biff?” Marty responded. “And I thought they called it chicken because of the way you walk.”
Biff snarled and started to climb out of his car, fists clenched. Two of his crew grabbed him and held him back.
“That’s it, McFly! I’m gonna eat your dust!” he screamed, flecks of spit flying everywhere.
The greaser to his left whispered in his ear.
“Whatever!” Biff yelled and shrugged his friend off. “Let’s go!”
Marty dropped back into the drivers seat and pulled the hatch down. He checked his instrumentation. The date and time were all set and the Flux Capacitor was functioning at one hundred percent.
The pretty girl in light blue dress stood between the two vehicles. Marty gripped the steering wheel and took one last look at Biff. He was combing his hair.
“Ready?” she giggled, raising her arms.
Marty grinned “Goodbye you miserable son of a…”
“Go!” yelled the brunette as she dropped her arms.
Gravel flew from Biff’s tires as the large Ford engine roared. He took off to an early lead. Marty gunned the DeLorean but was at least a half of a car length behind. Trees flew by the small side window of his car as Marty accelerated. He was moving fast but Biff was faster. In the span of a few seconds, Biff had pulled a full car length ahead of Marty.
55 miles per hour, read the speedometer in the dash of the DeLorean. 60. 65. The edge of Clayton Ravine was looming only a few hundred yards away. Biff’s car was traveling so fast the back end fishtailed as he hit a soft spot on the dirt road. For a moment, Marty feared that Biff would lose control and spin out. That would have been disastrous.
Marty had his sneaker to the floor. The dial on the speedometer moved swiftly to the right. 75 miles per hour. 80. Marty was almost at the cliff. He stole a glance at Biff who was in turn staring back at Marty in disbelief. The look on his face told Marty that Biff had expected Marty to quit by now.
Only a few more seconds before both cars plunged over the edge. Marty could see that Biff’s face had gone white.
“Almost there…” thought Marty. “Don’t quit now.”
Thirty feet from the edge, Biff’s foot lifted from his accelerator and slammed on the brake. His massive car lurched but it was too late. As both vehicles reached the edge, there was a magnificent flash of light. Marty’s speedometer read 88 miles per hour. In a single moment the DeLorean vanished and Biff’s behemoth soared into the air and slowly arced downward. Eyewitnesses later swore they saw two strips of flame stretched from the cliff out into the air next to Biff.
Daylight assaulted Marty’s eyes as his car sped across the bridge that spanned Clayton Ravine. Wood’s Bridge still had the same coat of paint as when it was opened in 1972.
Marty blinked and checked the gauges. “October 27, 1985 10:00 AM” the display glowed in red letters and numerals.
He slowly braked to a stop at the other side of the bridge where a familiar white haired old man stood waiting. As he exited the car, Doc Brown approached.
“Did you have any trouble?” he asked. “The Flux Capacitor… did it remain stable?”
He was already running his hands over the machinery in the back of the car.
“Yeah, it was fine, Doc. Everything went perfectly.”
“I still wish you’d tell me what this all about, Marty. Time is a dangerous thing to tamper with. One mistake and the whole space-time matrix could…”
“Yeah, yeah, I know Doc. Say, did you bring that photo I asked for?”
“What?” Doc Brown stopped fussing with the DeLorean and looked up.
“Oh, yes of course. I have it right here.” He produced a large manilla envelope and handed it to Marty. Marty opened it and revealed the large photo inside. He gazed at it for a moment.
The photo showed a grave marker. In the background Marty could see the Hill Valley Cemetery sign over the entrance. The gravestone displayed a name and date: Biff Howard Tannen/ Born: July 12, 1938/ Died: November 6, 1955.
“I still don’t understand why you wanted that picture taken,” replied Doc Brown. A sudden realization came to him.
“Marty, you didn’t…” his voice trailed off.
“I never liked that guy,” Marty grinned, giving Doc a knowing glance.
“Marty!” exclaimed Doc Brown. “You’re SUCH an asshole!”
[Author’s Note: This was my first attempt at anything resembling fan fiction. It was a mash-up of Rebel Without a Cause and Back to the Future. Yes, it’s a bit twisted, but if you follow my blog, you know that I’m one sick puppy.
You may like it or you may hate it. Either way, thanks for reading.]