Part II – Recurring Themes

"Listen up, Eastwood! I intend to shoot somebody today and I'd prefer it to be you. But if you're just too damn yella, I guess it'll just have to be your blacksmith friend."

"Forget about me, Marty, and save yourself!"

Damn, I can't believe this is happening. Whoever would've guessed that some wild gunman would be holding Doc at gunpoint to get me to fight him? Come on, McFly, think...there's gotta be some way to get out of this without leaving Doc to die!

"You got one minute to decide. You hear me runt? One minute!" Buford yells as I turn away from the window. One minute? Hell, I can't come up with...

...wait a second.

For some reason I'm reminded me of the movie I saw Biff watching in the Hell Valley alternate reality. In A Fistful of Dollars, Clint Eastwood used a makeshift bulletproof vest to trick his opponent into thinking he's dead. There's a stove door lying on the floor a few feet away, and I snatch it up. Perfect!

I look around frantically. There's gotta be something I can attach it with...yes! There's a coil of twine on a shelf. I gotta move quick, or Doc's a goner. I tie the twine around the hinges of the little metal door and tear off my tunic, looping the rope over my neck so that the door covers my upper chest. That should be enough...I hope. I hide it under the shirt again, but I can hear Buford talking from outside. "Time's up, runt!" he bellows.

I gather all my courage and step out into the street. Buford faces away from me, muttering something to Doc as he lifts his gun. "Right here, Tannen!" I shout, and the dirty jerk whirls around to look at me. Doc looks horrified at my apparent suicidal attitude, but I don't dare give him any hint of what I'm planning.

Buford's gang drags Doc off to the side of the road, and everyone clears a wide path between me and Mad Dog. He smirks darkly at me across the dusty road. "Draw," the gunslinger growls.

I only hesitate for a moment. I could shoot; he doesn't have any protection from bullets...but... "No!" I reply. The crowd murmurs, and Buford looks stunned at my refusal. Hoping to make Buford even more overconfident, I reach down and unbuckle my gun belt, dropping it to the dirt. I swallow hard, hoping this isn't the biggest mistake I'll ever make in my life. "I thought we could settle this like men!" This could be the last thing I ever say...

Buford stares at me in astonishment, then grins evilly. "You thought wrong, dude!" Almost faster than I can see, he draws his gun and fires.

I can't help but flinch as the bullet slams into my chest, right over my heart. The force of the impact knocks me over backwards, and I hit the hard-packed earth with a loud thud. I quickly close my eyes and try not to breathe too noticeably – which isn't too hard, since my chest hurts so badly. I feel like I've been hit by a car again. I wonder if Doc felt like this in 1985...

I can hear disappointed and frightened reactions from the gathered crowd as Buford arrogantly swaggers forward. "Ah, thank ya," he drawls as he gets closer. I crack my eyes open slightly to see him standing over me, gun aimed somewhat in my direction. His face, however, tells me that he thinks I'm definitely down for the count.

Hah! Nice try, mud-for-brains. In one swift move, I kick the gun out of his hand and leap to my feet. Buford's expression is absolutely priceless before it darkens in fury. The bastard lashes out to punch me – and howls in agony as the bones in his hand crunch painfully against the stove door. Over his hunched shoulders, I can see Doc, who looks simultaneously ecstatic and astonished that I'm alive and unharmed.

While Buford staggers in pain, I reveal my homemade bulletproof vest and detach it. Buford's eyes narrow as he sees his bullet smashed into it, and he lets out a cry of anger as he lunges at me. Acting entirely on instinct and slightly startled by his sudden move, I swat him in the face with the metal door. The crowd lets out a cheer as Buford is knocked silly, and I throw my makeshift weapon to the ground. Buford may be an asshole but I figure he deserves a fighting chance...sort of.

With only a few punches, Buford is unconscious and facedown in a manure wagon. My knuckles are stinging slightly, but damn, it feels so good. "That was good," my ancestor Seamus agrees from the sidelines, grinning at me.

The deputy rides up and Buford's gang flee. I can't help but laugh when I see Doc deliberately trip one of them, and he rushes to my side as I pull out the photo of the tombstone. "Look!" he exclaims as the tombstone fades.

"Yes!" I cheer. Thank God, we both survived that. Now, to go back to 1985...oh shit!

Doc seems to realize the same thing, and we hear the train whistle in the distance. "The train!" he exclaims.

"Can we make it?" I ask anxiously as we run for our horses. Shit, if this doesn't work, we'll both be stuck here forever...

"We'll have to cut it off at Coyote Pass," Doc decides as he easily jumps up into the saddle. It takes me slightly longer, as I'm not used to riding horses. At all.

"Hey mister! Mister Eastwood!" I look down to see a young boy holding my gun belt. He lifts it up to me. "Here's your gun, mister!"

I grab the gun, even though I have no idea what I'm going to do with it. Mom and Dad will never let me keep it... "Thanks, kid," I say anyway. Suddenly I get an idea, and look over towards the saloon. Seamus is standing there with a smile on his face, and when he sees me looking back he makes a punching gesture. I smile. "Seamus!" My ancestor looks pleasantly surprised as I lightly toss him the gun belt. "Worth twelve dollars, never been used," I tell him, and he smiles.

"Maybe I'll trade it for a new hat," he calls to me. It's almost too bad I have to go...I've become rather fond of my ancestors, and I'm never going to meet them again. What do you say to someone who's been dead to you for a hundred years?

"Right, and take care of that baby," I say spontaneously. Doc gives me an odd look at the last part, but I can only shrug and urge my horse forward. The beast rears slightly, but obligingly takes off.

Seamus' cry of "I will!" reaches my ears, and Doc and I spur our horses to greater speeds.

"Marty, that was amazing!" Doc exclaims as our horses gallop out of town. "I thought you were dead for sure! Where did you come up with such a daring idea?"

"Well, from two places, actually," I admit, glancing at him. "One was from you, with that stunt you pulled with the Libyans. The other place was actually the alternate 1985. Biff was watching A Fistful of Dollars when I interrupted and asked about the almanac, and it just happened to be that scene. I had no idea if it would really work though."

"Marty, you will never cease to surprise me," Doc declares. "You about gave me a heart attack when you dropped the gun. You could've been killed!"

"Coulda been killed when I jumped off the twenty-seventh floor in Hell Valley, too," I reply, ducking under a low branch. "Let me tell you, I'm sick of people shooting at me." Mentally, I count them off to myself. First, there was Old Man Peabody in 1955, when he thought I was an alien. Second, in the alternate 1985, with Biff trying his best to murder me. Thirdly, just now with that Buford jerk. Hopefully I don't add more to the list of recurring themes I'm seeing throughout my time travels.

"Once we get back to 1985, I doubt the trend will continue," Doc assures me, and he sounds...amused? "But first we have to actually get there!"

Our horses crest the top of the hill, and I can see the train puffing along, its passengers oblivious to what's coming. "Ready to hijack – I mean borrow – a train?" Doc asks with a smirk.

"Yeah, I'm always ready to break the law," I shoot back, rolling my eyes. "But when I get home, I'm staying in the house and going nowhere for a week!"

The End