"Outatime" - Chapter Six

            It was a two-mile walk back to Hill Valley. Marty normally took the road from her neighborhood into town on her skateboard, so walking should have been a piece of cake for her and the boys. Unfortunately, the same couldn’t be said for when they arrived in town. Hill Valley in 1985 was dramatically different from Hill Valley in 2025.

            Some kids were dressed like punk rockers with rainbow-colored, super-spiky hair.

            Others carried boomboxes on their shoulders with the music blaring in their ears.

            The cars driven along the streets were vintage and in pristine condition.

            The theater marquee advertised two “new” films: Rambo: First Blood Part II and The Goonies. Tickets were $3.55 a seat.

            “We’ll have to do our best to blend in,” Phineas suggested.

            “S-Sure,” Marty stammered, still adjusting to the bizarre situation she found herself in. “It shouldn’t be all that hard. I-I mean, think of all that we know ‘bout the 80s, thanks to Stranger Things.”

            Phineas snickered. “Yeah, including the monsters.”

            “T-There were real monsters?” Marty asked. She was so jittery that she took Phineas’s joke as an actual fact.

            DONG! DONG! DONG!

            Marty and the boys were shaken by the ringing of the Hill Valley Courthouse clock tower, which was still in working condition in 1985. Amused by the historical circumstance, Phineas reflected, “Baljeet would’ve been happy to see this.”

            Unable to handle the eeriness around her, Marty needed something to calm her. She took out her phone and put in her wireless earbuds, hoping that some music would calm her nerves. However, when she tried to access her Spotify playlist, she kept getting an error message: “No Internet Connection.”

            Of course. Wi-Fi hasn’t existed yet in 1985!

            “Argh!” she verbally griped.

            Seeing her distraught again, Phineas told her, “Take it easy, Marty. We’ll find a way out of this. All we have to do is call Doc.”

            “How’re we gonna do that without a phone?” Marty indicated her now useless smartphone to Phineas.

            “Well, payphones did exist in 1985.” Phineas pointed to one specific area in the square that Marty recognized as the Retrograde. Of course, in this 1985 setting, it was the old Century Café that was established before its closure and Phineas and Ferb renting the space. Immediately, she and the boys went there, being careful not to get run down by the blue 1980 Chevy Silverado along the way.

            The difference in the atmosphere was discernable as soon as they entered.

            Whereas the Retrograde was designed to be like Phineas and Ferb’s answer to Dave & Buster’s, Century Café was a basic coffee shop hangout with an open mic stage. Of course, being as early as it was, there wasn’t anyone on stage and barely much activity, save for one redheaded girl sitting alone and eating breakfast at the counter and a janitor sweeping away at the floors.

            Marty and the boys spotted the available indoor payphone booth near the corner. They wasted no time in going to it, with Marty stepping inside to search for Doc’s address in the phonebook. Once she found it, she dropped a few quarters into the machine and dialed the number. She never used a payphone before – or seen one, for that matter – so this firsthand experience was more than archaic to her.

            She heard ringing over the receiver a few times before ultimately getting an answer. “Brown residence,” the formal voice of a young boy answered. “To whom am I speaking?”

            Marty barely had a moment to venture a guess as to who the kid was, so she cut right to the chase: “Uh, hi…is Emma Brown there?”

            “Yes, she is,” the boy replied.

            “Can I speak to her?”

            “I dunno. Can you?”

            Oh, great. A grammar zealot. Marty despised those types. Not letting it deter her from the task at hand, she reiterated her request, “May I speak to her?”

            “She’s busy right now,” the kid said. “May I take a message?”

            Becoming impatient, Marty asked, “Who is this?”

            “This is Lewis. Who are you?”

            “Somebody who really needs to talk to Emma Brown right now. Now can you put her on the phone, you little…?!”

            Click!

            Marty could only hear the dial tone. Whoever this Lewis was, he hung up on her.

            “Well, that could’ve gone better,” Phineas criticized in his genial tone. “Who were you talking to anyway?”

            Marty shrugged. “Some little brat named Lewis. Anyone you know?”

            Phineas shook his head. “Doctor Brown never mentioned having another son.”

            With no other choice, Marty used her phone to snap a pic of the address from the phonebook. “If we can’t call her, we’ll just go to her then,” she suggested.

            They were on their way out of the café, until…

            “Hey, Flynn!”

            Phineas’s head quickly turned just as he heard his last name called out. Marty and Ferb promptly stopped along with him to look towards the café entrance where they spotted a busty, short-haired young brunette in a karate gi, flanked by a wild pack of colorful weasels.

            Marty and the boys could hardly believe their eyes when they recognized her.

            “Coach Tannen?” Marty gasped in a whisper.

            It was like Tiff Tannen had discovered the Fountain of Youth. Her wrinkled, sagged skin had been replaced with a smoother, shinier glow. Her shape was fuller and more muscular. Even her karate gi looked brand new.

            Phineas, on the other hand, was more concerned with how Tannen knew of him in 1985, long before he was ever supposed to be born. But it turned out that he wasn’t the “Flynn” Tannen was addressing, as she brisked past him, Marty, and Ferb and approached the redheaded girl at the counter.

            Phineas was stricken when he saw that the girl was his mother: Linda Flynn.

            “Hey, I’m talkin’ to you, Flynn – you lil’ twerp!” Tannen bellowed.

            Linda turned away from her cereal breakfast to face Tannen, putting on a welcoming disposition. “Oh, hey, Tiff. How’re you today?”

            “What’re you? My doctor?” Tannen retorted. “Where’s my homework?”

            Linda fidgeted. “Well, uh, you see…I was a little busy last night and I…”

            “Hello!” Tannen grabbed Linda by the shirt collar and knocked on her head, to the amusement of her weasel associates. “Anybody home? Think, Flynn! Think! Do you know what’ll happen if I turn in my homework with your handwriting? I’ll get kicked out of school, that’s what’ll happen! Now what’s so important that you couldn’t focus on my homework?”

            “Well…you see, Tiff…the Battle of the Bands is next week and…”

            “Oh! Here we go again!” Tiff griped. “We’ve talked about this, Flynn! The odds of you winnin’ that contest are slim to my keester! I’m just statin’ the facts! What’re you hopin’ to achieve with that anyway? Are you gonna be the next Madonna or somethin’?”

            “She’s gonna be Lindana!” Marty suddenly blurted out.

            Their attention was momentarily brought on Marty, Phineas, and Ferb, following Marty’s outburst. Unfortunately, the only response it got was unrestrained laughter from Tannen and her weasel gang. Linda could only sit in silence and embarrassment, glaring towards Marty and the boys.

            “Oh, that’s rich! That’s the best laugh I had in a while, man!” Tannen screamed. “Lindana? What a joke!”

            “How ‘bout you guys back off her?!” another voice stepped in.

            Everyone turned to the janitor, who stopped sweeping long enough to confront Tannen and her gang.

            Really seeing him for the first time, Marty was shocked to see who the janitor was.

            “Dad?!” she again gasped in a whisper.

            Sure enough, the Century Café janitor was George McFly. He stood there, looking to be the same age as Marty, in a dirtied navy-blue jumpsuit. His youthful appearance was rather androgynous, looking almost like the perfect clone of Marty herself with bright red hair and blue eyes.

            “So, who’re you all of the sudden, McFly? Rambo?” Tannen advanced on the teen janitor. “Everyone knows you got no cajones!” She nudged her fist against George’s groin, a gesture that made him wince and cough. While George was hunched over in anguish, Tannen took one last look at Linda and warned, “My homework better be to me before Monday, Flynn! Got it?!”

            “Y-Yeah, s-sure, Tiff,” Linda stammered, her concern more on George.

            On that, Tannen and her weasels departed.

            Marty, Phineas, and Ferb could see them through the café window, leaving in a ’76 Ford Thunderbird Convertible.

            “Are you alright?” They heard Linda ask George, helping him sit at the counter.

            George smiled in gratitude from her concern. “I should be asking you that. Don’t listen to Tiff. You have more than enough right to enter the Battle of the Bands. You’ve got a lot of talent.”

            Linda sighed. “Before today, I would’ve agreed…until those three butted in.”

            She nodded towards Marty, Phineas, and Ferb, who stood awkwardly across from George and Linda.

            “I think I’ll just stay home that night,” Linda opted. “I don’t wanna miss Family Ties anyway.” After checking one last time on George’s condition, she walked out of the café in tears.

            “Smooth, guys,” George scolded Marty and the boys. “Real smooth.”

            As soon as he was somewhat recovered, he returned to his janitorial duties.

            Neither Marty nor Phineas were sure what to make of the incident they witnessed with both of their parents. Rather than deliberate on it, they rushed out of the café and headed for Doc’s place.

---------------------------

            Arriving at John F. Kennedy Drive – according to the address from the phonebook, Marty realized that it was actually Joseph Biden Drive in 2025. The street wasn’t all too different from how it was in the future. There was still a Burger King next door and a printing service across the street.

            The only major difference was in the Brown residence.

            In 1985, the luxurious mansion was still there, along with the garage.

            “Had no idea the Doc lived so large,” Marty observed in awe, as she approached the front door with Phineas and Ferb. She knocked on the door, and it was soon answered by a 12-year-old kid who looked a lot like…

            “Cornelius?!” Marty and Phineas exclaimed in surprise.

            “It’s Lewis,” he corrected. “Who are you guys?”

            “We’re here to see your mom,” Phineas told him.

            “Are you the ones who called earlier?” Lewis inquired.

            “Yeah,” Marty verified. “We just—”

            SLAM!

            Marty should have seen that door slam coming from Lewis. After all, this was the same kid who hung up on her over the phone. But she had come too far just to allow one snobby kid to stand in her way.

            Once again, she knocked on the door.

            This time, instead of Lewis, a radiant strawberry-blonde woman in a black evening dress answered the door. Marty, Phineas, and Ferb were blown away by her beauty, particularly once they realized the blonde was a 40-year-old Emma Brown. She was a stark contrast to the elderly woman they watched die in 2025. Her face was amassed with makeup that made her look even younger, her long locks were well-kept, and her posture was elegant.

            “You must be the babysitters,” she greeted Marty and the boys.

            Seizing the opportunity, Marty played along. “Yes…yes, we are,” she told Emma.

            “Come right in – I was just on my way out,” Emma invited. Marty, Phineas, and Ferb walked in right away, getting an eyeful of the mansion’s interior. With the exception of a multitude of contraptions cobbled together within random sections of each room, the Brown mansion was as exquisite on the inside as it was on the outside.

            Lewis was in the den, conducting an experiment with a long-haired Collie, in which both him and the dog wore unique helmets.

            “Cornelius, leave Einstein alone, will ya?” Emma reprimanded.

            “But I’m on the brink of a massive breakthrough!” Lewis protested. “I’m about to establish a telepathic link between man and his best friend!”

            Emma shook her head, grinning. “Well, be nice to your sitters while I’m gone.”

            “I don’t need babysitters,” Lewis grumbled.

            “You got a hot date, Doc…erm, Miss Brown?” Marty asked.

            “I do indeed, young lady, and I don’t want to keep him waiting,” Emma said. “There’s plenty of food in the fridge for you kids. Make sure Cornelius is in bed by no later than nine.” She slipped her fur coat on and called to Lewis while heading out the door, “Love ya, honey!”

            “Love you, too, Mom!” Lewis called back.

            Marty attempted to lend Emma’s ear before she left, but the young Doc moved at a much quicker pace compared to her older counterpart. It didn’t help much that she fretted in her approach. There Emma was, nowhere near as eccentric as she would one day be in 2025, and she was about to be told that she would invent a time machine out of a DeLorean. She would’ve thrown out Marty and the boys without blinking.

            “How’re we going to convince Doctor Brown to help us get back to the future?” Phineas posed the exact question Marty was thinking.

            It was only when she glanced at Lewis that a feasible idea brewed in her noggin.

            “Maybe she’s not the one we have to convince.”