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George McFly’s award dinner had gone pretty well.
The Hill Valley community centre, which was usually in rough shape most days, had been tided up. Dozens of tables and chairs were brought in and set up meticulously. A record player and some records were brought in as well.
All the guests were enjoying themselves. They chatted amongst themselves, mostly drowning out The O’Jays’s Love Train, which played from the record player. Everyone had gotten up from their dinner places and were milling about.
All except one boy.
Little Marty had grown tired. Which was perfectly understandable. The five-year-old’s bedtime was usually around eight, and after stuffing himself with jello salad and chocolate fondue and having an overall exciting day, he was quite tuckered out.
Dave and Linda had run off to play in a different part of the community centre with some other kids, meanwhile Marty sat at the dinner table, his head rested on top of his hands, elbows laid flat on the white tablecloth and stuck out on both sides.
Just from the sight, it was pretty obvious that the kid was tired. Marty McFly never sat still for long. Whether he was using his utensils as drumsticks and tapping the table to a nonsensical beat or bothering one of his siblings if they were around.
George offered to take him back home, much to Lorraine’s protest.
“George, this is your party!” she told him as he went to pick up the sleepy Marty. “You can’t just leave early!”
“It’s okay, Lorraine,” George reassured her. “I’ll only be gone for a few minutes. Remember Babs’ girl is on call for this situation? I’ll put Marty to bed and wait for her to walk over and then I’ll come straight back here.”
“Oh, but George… why don’t I just take him home? I don’t want you to miss your party.”
George gave her a kiss on the forehead. “I won’t miss anything, Lorraine.” Besides, with the current state of Hill Valley recently, George would rather he be out alone after dark than his wife.
Lorraine sighed. “Alright,” she said.
Once Marty was securely in his arms, his head resting on his shoulder, George began to make his way out of the Hill Valley community centre. As he went, people greeted him and congratulated him on his award. George smiled politely and nodded to them.
Only one man wasn’t there to celebrate George’s achievements.
Biff Tannen stood by the entrance of the community centre drinking from a Coors bottle.
“Hey McFly,” he said, watching George closely. Too closely, for George’s comfort.
George held Marty tight in his grasp. “Biff.”
“Where ya going, McFly? Your party isn’t over,” Biff sneered.
“I’m just taking Marty home,” George said. “What are you doing here? You aren't wanted here.”
Biff took a sip of his beer and glared at George. “I heard there was a big event going on and decided to stop by to ask why I wasn’t invited.”
“I’m sure you can figure out why you weren’t on the guest list,” George snapped. He was usually one to keep his composure, but Biff had harassed and assaulted his wife in the past and also was in the process turning Hill Valley into a dystopian hellhole with his nuclear plants and casinos. He had kept his composure long enough for this man.
Biff scoffed. “Be careful out there, McFly,” he warned as he turned to look outside. “Never know what’s lurking in the dark.”
George didn’t respond, pushing the door open and leaving the community centre.
The walk home was a brisk 10 minutes. George kept on high alert. After Biff legalized gambling, Hill Valley had slowly begun to transform into a town of crime. Most days were still somewhat normal, unless there was a mass sporting event. Nighttime, however, was a different story. Drunkards and dangerous men wandered the streets.
George would have preferred to drive to the community centre. But once Biff bought all the oil companies and made gas prices skyrocket, driving became a luxury preserved for when it was completely out of the question to walk.
Finally, they made it home. George helped Marty out of his suit and into his pyjamas. The boy was barely awake and was out before his head hit his pillow.
Then George called Barbara and waited for her daughter to get to the house. They lived just down the street, close enough for the thirteen-year-old girl to be capable of walking on her own. Even then, George waited outside for her and kept an eye out for sketchy people.
Once Christine made it, George let her into the house. She had babysat for the McFlys before, and needed no help settling in.
George bid her good-bye and then left.
Soon he was all alone in the dark streets of Hill Valley.
All he could hear was the sounds of his feet padding along the street and the distant wails of police vehicles.
He missed having Marty on his shoulder. Although his son was undoubtedly safer at home in bed, even having the quiet company was comfort enough.
He walked a brisk pace and only found trouble when he was just two blocks away from the community centre.
He turned a corner on a back-alley and came face-to-face with a man at the other end of the street. It was dark, the streetlights weren’t working for some reason, but George could see well enough to know that a very tall man was ahead.
“Hello?” he called out.
“McFly.”
“Oh, it’s you, Biff.” For once, George felt relieved to see his old high school bully. Biff was less likely to hurt him than a stranger -right? “What are you doing out here?”
“Waiting for you.” Biff suddenly sprinted over, George took a few steps back, his relief gone.
“Why? What happened?” he asked.
“Nothing’s happened,” Biff said dismissively. “Not yet.”
Yeah, that didn’t sound good. “Okay, well I really gotta get back to the community centre so-”
Biff lunged at him, grabbing his suit and holding him in place. George struggled to get out of his grasp. “You’re not going anywhere, McFly.” Biff threw George back. George stumbled backwards and was caught by three other men. Biff’s goons. He realized, remembering the three idiots who used to follow Biff around in high school. They must’ve been hiding in the shadows.
“What do you want, Biff?” George demanded. “I’m not going to do your homework like in school.”
Biff didn’t respond, he glared at George for a moment before punching him hard in the face.
If Biff’s goons weren’t holding him in place, George would have tumbled hard into the cement.
“Ha!” Biff said, shaking his fist out. “Now you know how it feels, McFly.”
George raised his head weakly. “Why, Biff?” he croaked.
“There’s only ever been two people who’ve ever made a fool out of me, McFly,” Biff told him. “You and that butthead Clein. No one has seen Clein in years, so that just leaves you.”
“Biff, if this is about all the stuff about the BiffCo. protests-”
“I’m not talking about that, McFly!” Biff shouted. “I don’t give a damn about that; we both know that those protests are useless.”
George winced. Biff was right. How many years had it been since they started? How many times have Biff straight out ignored them?
“No. I’m talking about the night of the Enchantment Under the Sea Dance. You remember? November 12th, 1955?”
“Biff, you’re still upset about that? It was over a decade ago-”
“Shut it McFly!” Biff snapped. “You don’t realize that night you took the one thing I want most in the world.”
George’s eyes widened. “Lorraine…” His voice was a harsh whisper.
“I tried to move on,” Biff said. “I tried other women. But none compared to your wife, McFly.”
“I won’t let you hurt her!” George cried, desperately trying to get out of the grasp of the three men.
“Oh, you won’t get the chance, McFly.”
Before George had the chance to respond, Biff pulled out something from his back pocket. George didn’t realize what it was until he heard a loud BANG.
The three goons let George fall to the ground. Biff put the gun back in his pocket.
George only had a few more moments before his life drained out of the hole in his stomach.
“Why do you want Lorraine so bad? You have so much money and power…” He could barely say the words. It hurt so bad to talk. To do anything.
Biff shrugged. “I like pretty things.” Biff bent down and pulled George’s wallet from his pant pocket. “Don’t worry, I’ll take real good care of your kids, McFly.” He kicked him hard in the stomach, right where the bullet wound was. George cried out in pain.
And with that, Biff and his goons left George to bleed out in the alley alone.
With his remaining strength, George rolled onto his back to look up at the night sky.
Sometimes he wondered whether Darth Vader was still out there, watching him. Did he manage to fix the space time continuum by saving Lorraine from Biff? He must have, he didn’t melt his brain, but this world felt wrong…
George sighed, taking in one of his last breaths of life. I hope someone fixes this. Maybe Calvin will come back, he made things better last time. I hope Lorraine ends up okay. And Linda, and Dave, and Marty. God, I hope they’re okay. I hope they know that I love them.
Tears formed in George’s eyes as he thought about his family for the last time.