So, explanation (excuses) time. I have been swamped these past few weeks. Right after the last update of Of Astronomers and Astronauts, I smacked face first into a haze of AP Testing. It was scary. You don't know panic until you realize that your AP Art History test is on at the exact same time as your AP Physics test. Then, once I finally escaped that battleground, my teachers all decided that since it was the end of the school year, they should load up on tons of projects just to make us cry. Now, it's summer, and my petty high school problems like getting an education have ended for three months, so I finally get a chance to write, and to beg for your forgiveness for disappearing right when I finally got Owen to Jurassic World. This is me begging for your forgiveness, by the way. I already have the next chapter half written, and I'll get it up as soon as possible. However, I thought that I'd write a quick scene for Outtakes so that you all wouldn't think that I had died, or something. This scene depicts Eric and Billy's prison break, for the record. Also, thanks to icanhascamaro for the great review!

Of Astronomers and Astronauts: Outtakes

Scene Four: Eric and Billy's Excellent Adventure

During his time on Isla Sorna, Eric had learnt quite a bit about the importance of the Art of Observation.

For example, he knew that if he didn't observe that a Dilophosaurus was stalking him as prey, he would die. If he didn't observe that the berry he was about to eat was not a delicious treat, but in fact a very deadly, very poisonous cousin to the edible berries, he would die. If he didn't observe that the velociraptors' patrols intersected with his path home at a certain time, he would die.

So yes, Eric considered observation to be very important.

Of course he would continue the practice after he left the island. It was the only way he gained useful information.

Like the fact that every 47-59 minutes, Nameless Guard #3 abandoned his post for a smoke break that lasted, on average, approximately eight and a half minutes.

Which meant Eric had approximately eight and a half minutes to hijack a wheelchair, snag Billy's clothes and wallet, and get both of them out the door, all without his parents noticing him.

Having a challenge that was not life-threatening was a refreshing change, Eric found.

"Okay, here we go," Eric breathed to the tense Billy. Quickly, he began to wheel him out of the room, watching carefully for the overly officious nurses that kept trying to "check in" on them.

Sixty feet to the end of the hallway.

Forty-five feet.

Thirty feet.

The door opened before they reached it, revealing a guard that had finished his smoke break forty-three seconds early.

Well, crap.

Luckily, Nameless Guard #3 was more concerned with brushing ash off of his mustard-stained shirt than with noticing the two patients in the middle of an epic jail-break. Eric quickly shoved Billy into an empty room, almost crashing him into a wall in the process.

"Any more bright ideas?" Billy hissed.

Eric glanced around the room, a plan forming in his mind. "I got a couple."

Quickly, he snatched up a half-empty tissue box and glanced warily out the hall. Nameless Guard #3 was the image of vigilance, having ignored the current state of the hallway in favor of picking up a book that Eric didn't need his terrible Spanish to know that it was a cheap romance novel. He hurled the box aimlessly down the hallway, watching as it thudded home against a wall and slid underneath a chair. As the guard glanced away to inspect the noise, Eric skidded out of the room and through the door, shoving Billy in front of him. After that, it was simple to slip out of a back door, into the bright sunlight of freedom.

Well, the partially cloudy sunlight of freedom, but whatever.

Eric and Billy grinned at each other.

Eric grunted as he shoved the wheelchair through the sand. The crowds were loud, the sand was sticky, and the crash of the waves was enough to send Eric into flashbacks about that terrible parasailing trip.

"Okay," he acquiesced. "Dropping by the beach for some time in the sun was a bad idea."

The structure in the center of the plaza looked a bit like a giraffe had fused with a tree, then fell over onto a hippopotamus-jaguar crossbreed, Eric thought.

"I'll never understand modern art," Billy declared absently.

Eric agreed with him.

"This is you, yes?"

The shopkeeper had been eyeing Eric and Billy since they had walked (or rolled) into the store. Seemingly coming to a decision, he had hurried over to the pair while they were inspecting novelty t-shirts, holding out a newspaper in front of him with determination.

The front page had an enlarged picture of Eric Kirby sprawled across the front of it.

"Uh, no," Eric lied. "Sorry. I'm not Eric Kirby. My name's … Owen."

Billy snorted.

The shopkeeper did not look convinced.

Eric sighed. "What is that?" he asked dramatically, arranging his face into a look of shock and pointing behind the man.

The shopkeeper did not look where Eric pointed.

For an awkward moment, they all stood there, staring at one another. Then, Eric grabbed Billy's wheelchair and booked it out of the store.

The food truck had been haphazardly parked next to the curb, its facade dirty and its metal awning dented. Even from across the street, the pair could smell the grease and "meat."

"I feel this is a reliable culinary establishment," Billy declared with an absolutely straight face.

Relying on Billy's talent in Spanish, they both ordered several tacos and wheeled over to a nearby bench to eat the meal.

"Today was a good day," Eric decided, crunching his taco as he stared off into the sunset. Next to him, Billy nodded in agreement, still seated in his wheelchair.

A shadow passed over where they sat. "Ahem."

Eric glanced up. "Hello, Dr. Grant, Dr. Degler."

Neither of them looked impressed.

Billy held up his half-eaten meal in supplication. "Taco?"