Jurassic Park III and ½: The Lost Hat

Part I

   Alan Grant rolled over, trying to get to his alarm clock. Checking the time, he groaned and buried his head under the pillow. 2 AM. It was another one of those nights. The long, sleepless ones. In fact, ever since he had come back from Isla Sorna, he hadn't been able to get much rest. It wasn't the nightmares, though those didn't help. No, it was something else. Something was wrong. And Alan wanted to know what it was.

   It had been gnawing at him for the past two weeks. It had been haunting him. It had even begun to affect his work. The other paleontologists wouldn't let him near the fossils anymore. He had almost dropped a Raptor thigh bone the day before. At first, he thought it must have been because of the experience he had with the Velociraptors, but he could sense that wasn't the case. At any rate, he decided to stay away from the dig site. That way, he got a vacation, and the others could work without him breaking things.

   Thinking these thoughts, Alan sighed heavily. He knew he would never, ever go back to that island again, regardless of how much money he was offered.

   Little did he know he would be returning very, very soon.

.·•·.

Later that day…

   Alan popped another piece of popcorn into his mouth. He was bored, and he didn't mind admitting it. The paleontologist was – or at least appeared to be – watching television with a bowl of popcorn in his lap. In reality, he was staring at it, not really comprehending anything that was happening on the soap that was on. It finished, and he switched the TV off, yawning. That was it. He didn't know how much more of this he could take. It was then he made a decision that was to change his life forever. He picked his lucky hat up and began to study it.

   Flipping it over, he stared at the brand label. Something was wrong. Something was definitely wrong. He brought the hat closer to his face, and then he saw it. The label read 'Walmart'. Alan knew one thing; his hat did not come from Walmart. With an angry expression on his face, the doctor picked the fake up by the brim and grabbed his jacket. He wanted to have a word with Billy.

.·•·.

   Reaching the dig site, Alan swerved to a halt, narrowly missing a few volunteers. He jumped from his car and stormed his way over to where Billy was continuing work on the Raptor fossil he had been excavating just before the two had left for Isla Sorna. Billy looked up, and spotted the enraged Grant. Scrambling to his feet, Billy was standing as Alan stepped up at him, waving the hat around.

 "Billy! Explain this," said Alan, shoving the hat into Billy's hands, "to me."

Billy stared at the hat in confusion, recognizing it to be the doctor's lucky hat. "Sir," he said, thinking it wise to show respect, "isn't it the hat I returned to you? The hat you lost on Isla Sorna? Your hat?"

Alan glared at the younger man. "No, actually, it isn't. You seemed to have given me the wrong hat. Now, please explain how that happened, Billy. I didn't think there were too many hats like mine on an island infested with dinosaurs."

Billy blinked, clearly puzzled. "But sir, I could have sworn—"

"Don't think Billy, it's bad for your health. Now, turn that… that…" Alan could not bring himself to say the words. "Turn that fake over."

Billy did as he was told, now thoroughly convinced Dr. Grant was a madman. Something must have happened to him on Sorna, he thought, staring at the inside of the hat, trying to discover what was wrong.

"What can you see?" asked Alan, with a hint of hysteria in his voice.

"Sir…" Billy trailed off.

"That! See? That!" Alan gestured to the label frantically.

Billy squinted at the label, wondering if he should call for help. Slowly, he read, "'Walmart'." Looking up at Alan, he said, "I didn't know you got this from Walmart."

"That's the point!" yelled Alan. "I didn't! You got me the wrong hat."

And all of a sudden, Billy realized exactly how much trouble he was really in.

.·•·.

   Billy was scared. He had never seen Alan this angry or nervous before. Doctor Grant was twitching and glancing around as though he was hiding something, which he was. He had a plan. The plan involved Billy. And Billy wasn't happy with the part he had to play.

   The two were sitting on a plane. A plane headed to Costa Rica, though the pilots and passengers didn't know that. The only two who knew where the plane was headed were Alan and Billy.

   Alan turned to Billy, and hissed in a low voice, "Let's review the plan." It was imperative no-one heard.

Billy blinked, then dutifully said, "You'll stand up and make a speech. I'll pull on a ski mask, pretend to take you hostage, then demand the pilot drop us off at Isla Sorna." He paused, then turned to Alan. "Right?"

Alan nodded. "Right, Billy. And don't forget to sound threatening. And definitely don't forget your weapon. Which is…?"
"A metal fork, sir."

"Right, Billy. A metal fork."

"But, sir, won't they try to radio for help?"

The older man glanced at Billy. "I've taken care of that."

Billy merely nodded. It was best not to argue with Alan, especially when he was brooding.

   Alan gave Billy a nod. It was time. Billy swallowed. There was definitely something wrong with the older man. Alan stood up, and walked to the front of their cabin. He cleared his throat.

"Excuse me. My name is Alan Grant, perhaps you've heard of me…"

Billy was surprised. Alan actually sounded convincing. As the famous paleontologist introduced himself, Billy pulled on a ski mask, making sure nobody was watching. Alan gave Billy a discreet nod, and Billy stood up, fork in hand.

"Nobody move," he said, trying to act tough. All eyes were on him as he strode to the front and grabbed Alan's shoulder. "Nobody move," he repeated, "or I'll ram this here fork into his neck."

Everyone's eyes went wide.

"Now," smirked Billy, "somebody inform the pilot that we are landing on Isla Sorna. After you drop me and the doctor off, you may continue on your trip. Okay?"

Everyone in the cabin went silent. Then someone piped up, "Could you repeat that?"

Billy glared at the person in question. The passenger fell silent. "I'll go." He edged out of the seat and made his way to the front of the plane.

"So," said Billy, grinning broadly at the seemingly petrified cabin. "Anybody want a drink?"

.·•·.

   After the passenger had returned, telling Billy that the pilot had agreed, Alan felt relieved. So far, so good, he thought, blinking at everyone. In truth, half of him thought he was going insane. The other half needed the hat. He knew that if he wanted to return to full sanity, he would have to get the hat back. It was his lucky hat. There was no replacing it. It was special; he knew it was when he picked it up at duty free. He referred to it as The Hat, which was short for The Hat of Power. Not that he told anyone its full name; he did want their respect. Not many people he knew respected him, though that had changed slightly ever since the Isla Nublar and Isla Sorna incidents. But they respected him for escaping from two islands contaminated with dinosaurs, not for being a paleontologist. That really… he searched his vocabulary for a word to fit. … sucked. Yes. Sucked. He shook his head in amazement. He hadn't known he knew a word like 'sucked'. Damn those adolescents.

   As Alan was thinking those thoughts, Billy was wondering what to do. What would a real hijacker do? Probably sneer at everyone. Or watch everyone carefully to make sure they weren't trying to phone for help. He decided on the latter; he wanted to come across as a nice hijacker.

"You," he snapped to the person who had spoken earlier, "ask the pilot when we're supposed to arrive on Isla Sorna."

"Yes, sir," replied the passenger meekly, as he exited towards the cockpit.

"Thank you!" yelled Billy to his retreating back.

   The passenger, whose name happened to be Trevor Woods, wasn't all that old. He was, in fact, fifteen, and this was his first solo flight. He was supposed to be visiting his grandparents, which wasn't his idea of a dream vacation. The youth had thought the next two weeks would have been boring and full of old-fashioned fishing trips, and then this happened. Trevor wasn't terrified, as most people in his cabin were; what kind of hijacker said 'thank you'? He could sense something was going on, and he wanted to find out what. In other words: Goodbye, grandparents, hello dinosaurs.

.·•·.

   Alan was tired. He hadn't said a word since Billy had grabbed his shoulder, and he wanted to sit down.

"When are we getting there?" he hissed to Billy, who was pretending to glare at random people.

"I don't know," he hissed back. "I'm waiting for the kid."

Alan snorted. "Stupid children."

   Trevor entered his cabin, and made his report to Billy.

"Sir, the pilot says we should be arriving in ten minutes."

Billy nodded. "Thanks, kid. Sit down."

Trevor gladly obliged. As insane as it sounded, he actually felt somewhat attached to Billy. He knew he wasn't really a terrorist. He was sure, that under the ski mask, Billy was actually a very nice guy. As to Billy's reasons, that was one thing Trevor wasn't sure about, though he was sure they were reasonable. He did feel sorry for Alan, though; looking at him, it seemed he was about to collapse, which was quite close to the truth.

"'Scuse me? Sir?" he ventured, staring at Billy.

"Yes?"

"I think Dr. Grant needs to sit do—"

At that moment, the pilot's voice came through the cabin. "Everybody, please fasten your seatbelts and prepare for landing."

Billy nodded, and escorted Alan to his seat before sitting down himself. Both of them strapped themselves to their seats as the plane began to make its descent onto Isla Sorna.

End of Part I

A/N: dundundun. j00 like it? ^^ Much thanks to everyone who's supported me while writing this. Part II coming soon.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own anything other than Trevor, the plane, and the air hostess. I WISH I did, though. -steals Alan's hat-