But how were they going to get the book?
‘All right, Marty,’ Doc explained, gently patting the -fender. ‘I’m going to stay here with the DeLorean. We can’t risk anyone else stealing it.’
‘Yeah,’ Marty replied, recalling his first trip here. ‘That farmer Peabody lives a mile down the road/ He chuckled softly. ‘I’d hate to think what would happen if he got his hands on it.’
Doc glanced at his watch with a frown. ‘Sunrise should be in about twenty-two minutes. You go into town, track down young Biff, and tail him. Sometime today, Old Biff will show up to give young Biff the Almanac. Above all, you must not interfere with that event. We must let Old Biff believe he’s succeeded so that he’ll leave 1955 and bring the DeLorean back to the future.’ He paused, to make sure Marty had gotten all that.
Marty nodded, and Doc continued:
‘Once Old Biff is gone, you can make your move. Grab the Almanac any way that you can, then come back here with it and we’ll go home.’
He gave Marty’s shoulder a pat of encouragement. ‘Remember, both our lives depend on this!’
‘You don’t have to remind me. Doc,’ Marty replied. That, whole business with Biff, and what had happened to Doc and Marty’s whole family in that other 1985, was still much too fresh in his mind. Marty would do just about anything to keep that future from happening!
Doc went back to rummaging around in the space behind the seats. He pulled out a couple of things and handed them to Marty.
‘Here’s some binoculars, and a walkie-talkie, so we can keep in contact.’
Both items were small enough for Marty to stick in his pockets. Doc looked about uncertainly. Was there something else?
Doc frowned to himself for an instant, then snapped his fingers and nodded.
‘And you’ll need money -’ He lifted his Hawaiian shirt to reveal a money belt with close to a dozen different pouches. And each pouch had a label: 1985; 1955; 2015; 1921; 1882; gold; silver; doubloons.
‘I have to be prepared for all monetary possibilities,’ Doc explained. He reached into the 1955 pouch and pulled out a wad of bills. He handed them to Marty.
‘Get yourself some fifties’ clothes,’ Doc instructed. ‘Something inconspicuous.’
Marty was ready. He’d found a second-hand store on the edge of the town that opened early, where he had picked up a cool Marlon-Brando-type black leather jacket, a real Frank Sinatra pork pie hat, and a pair of sunglasses. No one would know him now! Then he checked out the phonebook, and found Biff’s home address. Lucki
ly there was only one Tannen in town. But the house didn’t look right, somehow.
He pressed the talk button on his walkie-talkie.
‘Yo, Doc! I’m at the address - it’s the only Tannen in the phone book. But this can’t be Biff’s house. It looks like some old lady lives here.’
At least, that’s all he heard coming from the house, some old lady yelling all sorts of things.
Marty pulled out his binoculars to get a closer look. He could see a lot more detail this way, like that fact that the house really needed painting, or all those signs all over the yard. Marty read them one by one:
KEEP OFF THE GRASS!
What grass? From the few scruffy yellow strands left in the dirt, it looked like the lawn had died years ago.
But there were other signs, forbidding just about everything else:
NO PARKING!
NO TRESPASSING! VIOLATORS WILL BE PROSECUTED! THIS MEANS YOU!
And finally, slightly smaller, and behind all the others:
TANNEN
Yep. on second thoughts, this was Just the sort of place Biff Tannen would come from.
The front door opened and Biff walked out.