Marty Mcfly Novels & Stories

“You look like you’re about to send someone off to their death.” “Well,” Charlie chuckles, leaning back into his seat. “Aren’t we kind of doing that? We’re running straight into enemy territory without knowing whether or not they’re expecting us.” “Do you intend to die?” Marty counters. “I don’t know about you, but I plan to live to the ripe old age of sixty.” “Why only sixty? Shouldn’t that be at least eighty or ninety?” Charlie asks, cocking a brow. “No fucking way.” Marty growls. “Like hell, I’m ever going to get wrinkles.”

“Yeah, but I can’t shake this feeling that he could have something to do with it. Maybe he met Ghost in prison. Talked to him about all of us.” “That’s impossible. Marty is doing his time in Stafford. Ghost did his time in Florence.” “Shit, Matt! Florence State Prison!” Jacobs exclaimed. Matt jolted at Jacobs’s response. “Yeah. What’s the big deal?” he asked defensively. “The big deal is that Marty got into a little trouble at Stafford when he had first arrived. They had transferred him to Florence sixteen months ago!” His face went ashen. “How the hell do you know that?”

“That cocksucker can’t throw a punch to save his life.” After Todd tried to hit me, and I easily blocked it, he stepped back and fell right onto Marty Pickens, one of our resident drunks. Along with being a drunk, Marty is paranoid and thinks the world is out to get him. We serve him at Getaway because he’s safer in the bar than out on the streets, and we’re able to give him food and a cool place to wait out the sun in the summer. But the second Todd touched Marty, he freaked out, saying the FBI sent Todd. He started beating the crap out of Todd, and it was a good thing Weston was there to break things up because I would have stood back and watched with pleasure.

“Oh yeah, didn’t I mention him before?” “No, you didn’t. Tell me about him.” “His name is Marty, we are high school sweethearts. He is going to MIT. It sucks that we are so far away, but we love each other.” She gave me a beaming smile. I cocked an eyebrow at her. “What about the whole Waylon Walker thing?” “I’m only human. I can look, but I can’t touch.” She winked at me as we walked to the check-out counter.

To the packs watching this drama unfold? I found myself walking downstairs before I could stop myself. The brewery was packed, the lunch rush in full swing. Marty was balancing four plates, navigating between tables with practiced grace. He'd learned fast. Then he saw me. The plates trembled slightly, but he didn't drop them. He delivered them to their table, then stood there, waiting. Like he knew I'd come to him. I didn't. I sat at the bar, Jake automatically appearing beside me, Maya on my other side. A united front. Marty approached slowly, pulling out his order pad. "What can I get you?" His voice was carefully neutral, but his eyes burned with everything he couldn't say.

He made his way through the would-be guards of the establishment and found himself face to face with Vec Tanner, the leader of the Coyotes himself. Vec Tanner Dawkins was a typical no-good self-mutilating, drug-popping, so-called "realist", that seemed to always be in the worst place at the worst time since childhood. Word was he was abused so badly by every foster service that took him in that he ended up killing several of the family members before running away and becoming a Coyote.

With an afterthought, “Uh, the fries have to be cooked.” Marty grins, his cheeks creasing. If I didn’t like the man so much, his one eye would creep me out. Marty swears up and down that he got into a fight with a unicorn when he was just a young man. But then, he also believes that aliens are stalking him, so I take what he says with a grain of salt. The shifters are engaged in a serious discussion, and by the time the order comes in, Marie is occupied with other customers. She gives me a pleading look and I slide around the bar, grabbing the food and bringing it over.

“Yeah, that’s Logan Carter.” There was a round of Oh's and ahs from the group at the window. I heard my phone buzz on the table with a notification. I closed my laptop down and grabbed my things. A lot of the office stayed at the window watching as I exited. I must admit they were correct; he looked exceptional. He was wearing dark jeans, a crisp white T-shirt and a black leather jacket. He was leaning against the bonnet of a car I didn’t recognise.