A WISH TOO YOUNG
CHAPTER 1
CHRISTMAS EVE
Hiding behind a wall in a closed toy factory, Agent Carl Hanratty held his gun in the air. Ready to aim at any moment that asked for it. Aiming the gun out in the open, he stepped away from the wall. In a snap a bullet was fired somewhere around the factory. Shooting straight towards him. Ducking to the ground the agent looked around his surroundings from the floor.
"Carl!" A man yelled. His name echoing across the empty warehouse. With running footsteps he had no awareness just where they were coming from until a pair of hands grabbed his shoulders to get up. Standing up in a struggle he jerked his body back and forth to try and get rid of the stranger's hold.
"Easy, easy!" The same voice reasoned. Releasing his hold Carl shrugged his suit and looked to see just who it was that picked him up from off the floor.
"Frank!" He exclaimed. Relieved that the young man was alright. The celebration was cut short. For another shot bellowed throughout the building. Taking the lead, Frank ran towards the storage room with the agent not far behind.
Only half way across the storage room did one of the criminals they were trying to chase tackled Frank. Both rolling onto the ground as a struggling fight began.
"Freeze! Hands in the air!" Mr. Fox shouted at the criminals. No sooner or later he was followed by 15 F. B. I. agents. Now against the 7 crooks, each one had the same expression on their faces. The expression of being caught.
Yanking a hold of the criminal that held Frank on the ground, Mr. Amdursky held the criminal's hands behind the man's own back.
2 HOURS LATER
"I mean did you see how scared that one guy was? The one who leaped on me?" Frank laughed. Followed by the table of agents that did the same.
"Yeah," Mr. Amdursky chuckled. "I swear when I grabbed him, he was going to shit his pants right there!" He laughed. Grabbing a sip of his beer.
"You got to admit, if it weren't for Mr. Abagnale; those checks for that cocaine bust would have been a disaster!" Mr. Fox exclaimed.
"Yeah!" Mr. Amdursky yelled. Clapping his hands in the process. Soon the whole table joined.
"Thanks," Frank nodded with a smile. "But it was more of Carl's help. Am I right?" He asked the table. All nodding in response.
"Speaking of which, where is that emotionless bird?" Mr. Amdursky asked with his beer bottle hovering over his lips.
"Emotionless bird?" Mr. Fox cackled.
Walking out of the stall, Carl walked over to the sink in front of him. Turning the water on, he dipped his hands into the sink when suddenly another man walked into the room. He was about Frank's own age. But more thin in frame. The young man appeared to be wearing a brown jacket and slacks. As hat wear was an old black fedora. So old it looked to have been patched in some areas. For the agent himself, he payed no mind to the kid until he turned to look back at him.
"You're Carl Hanratty, aren't you?" The young man asked with a mild tilt of his head. Looking up from the sink, the man in speaking looked up to see in the mirror a young man standing in the middle of the restroom.
"Do I know you?" Carl asked.
"No," The young man replied. "But I know you." Turning off the sink, Carl went over to the towels and wiped the water from his hands. Reaching for the door, he was just about to make his leave when the young stranger was all of the sudden in the middle of him and the door.
"Where are you going?" He questioned.
Carl gasped.
With a tilt of his head, the young man just stared at him. Putting out his hand between the distance they shared, he smiled. "Thomas Myrtle,"
Without warning Thomas was no longer in front of him but now behind Carl as he grabbed the man's neck and shoved him against the wall. The most unusual thing about it was the grip and the slam did not hurt.
"Here!" He smiled. Holding out a small black corked bottle while there was an unnamed glint in the young man's eye.
"Take it. This will make you feel better," Thomas informed the agent as he released his grip on the man. Landing on his feet, Carl almost slipped against the wall if it weren't for the stranger suddenly standing beside him to the direction he almost slipped down to.
Backing away from the young man, the older man's eyes were wide for many reasons. "Are you some type of ghost?" He asked with a shaken voice.
Immediately Thomas came zooming up to the agent, placing a see through hand over Carl's mouth.
"Shh!" He harshly whispered. "Don't let them hear you!" The young man fearfully ordered.
Looking at him with a baffled expression, the ghost eyed him.
"Oh!" He exhaled. Smoked breath immediately melting into Carl's face.
"There's these guys, right? They know who I am but when I am actually there, they don't know I exist. But if someone else speaks about me, I'm endangered. Keep that under your sleeve cause you're not suppose to know that." Releasing his hand over the agent's mouth, the older man looked at him in bewilderment.
"What do you mean they? Who is they?" Carl asked. Suddenly growing scared.
Glaring at the agent, Thomas huffed in frustration. "Go easy on me Carl. I'm not suppose to tell people this much! They go by Grim Demons. So hush, hush."
"Look, I don't know what in god's name-" Was all he could speak as suddenly Thomas disappeared by the sound of the restroom entrance opening.
"Hey Carl," Frank greeted. Seeing the man standing by the farthest wall with a strange expression on his face. "We're just about to leave." Walking near his boss with his hands in his pockets, he stood there looking at him in concern. "You alright?" He forwarded his brows.
"Yeah," He replied. "I'm alright. It's just there was this...forget about it. It was nothing." Carl replied. With a raised eyebrow, Frank tried to study the older man to make sure nothing was wrong.
"Hey Carl, Frank!" Mr. Amdursky said. The sound of his voice brought their attention to his presence at the door. "Let's go home before Christmas Day strikes." As Frank began walking nearer to the door, he looked back to see Carl was not following.
To what stopped the agent was the sudden feel of cold glass being wrapped in his fingers.
In his right hand there was that same bottle Thomas had just offered him.
"What's that?" Frank asked. Looking at the older man's hand.
"It's nothing," Carl said. Stuffing the bottle into his pocket so it wouldn't look like he just randomly picked it up from this room.
Sitting at his bedside ready for the night, there sat on his night stand the same black bottle Thomas Myrtle gave him. Those ghost's words still echoed in his mind on what it was. But how was it suppose to make him feel better? The more he looked at it the more questions started to rise. What in god's name was his reason to find him? How did Thomas know him in the first place? What did Thomas mean? He didn't feel sad or mad lately. Things were pretty good considering the criminals they just caught. That's why they were there in the first place at the bar. To celebrate.
Picking up the bottle, he examined the object. There were no labels. Not even a bar code. Popping the cork off immediately a strong sent came out. He coughed to the side. It wasn't a bad smell but a sour tang held its contents. Looking inside the bottle he became scared as the liquid was glowing with a bright green and deep purple. Colors he had never seen before.
Thinking very hard, he went over the possibilities to what this was. Or even the fact to what this could bring. He had a good job. Brought money and food to the table. When he was given a task he would finished it. But...Was that all that was good? He had Frank. The kid was a good friend. Over the years he was like a son to him.
The more he thought about it, the less encouraging facts appeared. Once he had a family. Once. His ex wife now was married and happy without him. His daughter barely even knew he was alive.
That's probably what Thomas meant by knowing him. From the looks of it, the ghost looked like he had been dead for a while. Probably as long as he himself has been alive. If that was true, what could the ghost tell him? Or was he after something else from him?
This was ridiculous. Grabbing the cork he pressed it back into the bottle. He next took off his glasses in one hand and placed both glassed objects back onto the night stand. Getting under the covers, he switched the lamp light off and lied down.
Minutes passed and the same questions kept running through his mind. Should he take it? Leaning up in his bed, he looked at the bottle once again. There was no need for the lamp. For the moon light glistening on the bottle could assist him to see it crystal clear through the dark.
Picking up the bottle for the final time that night, he uncorked the container once again. Tilting his head back, he downed the liquid in one gulp. Before he could even put the bottle back he suddenly collapsed back onto his pillow.
THE MORNING OF CHRISTMAS
Stirring in his sleep, Carl turned onto his back. God what a dream that was last night. The most strangest he has had in a while. A ghost was in it for Christ's sake. Talking to him about this bottle or something. Not bothering to open his eyes, he grabbed his glasses on his night stand. Placing the frames behind his ears he opened his eyes to see fogged lenses.
Forwarding his brows, he took them off to clean them. But the moment he slipped them off his eyes they became clearer. Holding the glasses he saw that they were clean. Looking off in the distance to his dresser, there it was crystal clear.
Placing the glasses down back on the night stand he got up from his bed to use the restroom. The moment he stood his boxers fell.
Carl gasped. Looking at the ground, he picked them up when he sighted the black bottle. Eyes widening he pretended he didn't even sight the container until his boxers didn't even stay on his waist. Letting the boxers slip, he was feeling his way around his stomach area when he suddenly felt abs instead of his chubby fat.
"Shit!" He whispered. Gasping yet again by the sound of his voice. "Shit!" He yelled.
Gripping his boxers around his waist, he speedily walked over to the hall bathroom. As he entered the room and looked into the mirror, Carl couldn't believe what he saw. There standing in front of the mirror was him but by far not. His hair was no longer the short cut but now thickly curled. His facial features were thinner, even in his undershirt and what was left of his boxers showed a lean muscular frame.
"Fuck I'm 30 again," Carl whispered. To make matters worse the doorbell rang. His reflection's jaw dropping immediately. He forgot about Frank! That was right! Christmas mornings they would eat here for breakfast! Shit! Running into the living room, Frank began to knock.
"Carl!" Frank called. "You there?"
Staring off in the distance with uncertainty, he looked back at the door. "Yeah just a second!"
Running back to his bedroom, he grabbed the first pair of pants he could find. Pulling them even just up to his mid thigh, he could tell they were too big. Running over to his closet, he searched and searched until an idea struck him. Reaching for the clothes right in the back of the closet, he looked at the pants regretfully but did what he could do.
Walking back out to the his apartment's front door, he grabbed the handle turning it very slowly.
"Carl?" Frank asked on the other side.
"Yes?" The agent replied.
"Are you alright?" Obvious concern in his voice. "You sound...different."
"I'm fine, honest." Carl said. The last part not very convincing. Even if it was, Frank would still beat him to it.
"Carl, let go of the doorknob, I'll come in myself." Frank said.
"Um..I wouldn't do that." The agent replied. Not knowing what to do.
"Carl," Frank frustratingly sighed.
In response to the young man's mood, Carl tried to back away but still held the doorknob.
"Carl," Frank stated. Grabbing the doorknob himself without waiting for Carl to let go. "Open the god damn-" He began to say. Letting go in straight fear, the door was opened. Once both of each other were in plain sight Frank's eyes widened.
Standing there in nothing but white slacks and a white undershirt, including the fact that Agent Carl Hanratty was suddenly younger and not wearing glasses brought Frank to gawk at him.
"Okay," The agent began. "You're not going to believe me, but-"
"Carl?" Frank suddenly asked in bewilderment.
"Yes it's me," Carl tried to presume.
"It can't be!" The young man exclaimed.
"It is!" Carl protested.
"No you're not!" Frank yelled.
"Yes I am damn it! Don't tell me who I am or who I'm not!" Carl yelled. Anger rising in his voice to the point where it made it hoarse and low. Revelation dawned in the criminal's eyes. For just in that sentence alone made Carl's voice actually sound like the voice Frank knew.
"What happened?" Frank asked.
Carl sighed. Looking like he had been fooled. "Why don't you come in and sit down? I'll tell you."
"So," Carl said. Resting his inner hand under his chin. "The moment I drunk the bottle I collapsed and...yeah." He trailed. Looking at Frank on the edge of the couch across from him. "You don't believe me do you?"
Frank scoffed a nervous laugh. "I don't know what to believe right now. But if you say that's what happened then I guess that has to be the case."
"Frank, I've only lied to you a few times since I've known you." Carl replied.
Standing up from his seat, the young criminal walked over to where Carl sat. "Prove it."
"What?" Carl asked. Slightly backing up into his armrest chair.
"Prove it," Frank repeated as he placed his hands in his pockets. "I want to see that bottle, even the things it has done to you."
Standing up from his chair it was no mistake that Carl could now stand half a foot taller then Frank. "Do you really want to know?" He gritted. "I mean, if I can't have one of my best friends believe me, then what can make you believe?" The agent asked.
"Look at me!" He gestured his hands to himself. "This is not a joke!" Taking off his shirt, he revealed his toned chest. Immediately Frank's widened eyes went straight to his torso. "I mean there's no make up on me. I literally just got out of bed and-"
"Carl," Frank interrupted.
"What?" The older man asked. In this case, what was old for him?
"I think you need to go look in the mirror," The criminal reasoned. With forwarded brows, he walked back to the hall restroom with Frank following.
"Ah!" Carl yelped. Right at that exact moment, Carl's chest hairs were falling off. Leaving behind his smooth chest.
"Carl," Frank brought to his attention as they stared at each other through the mirror. "What's happening to you?"
"Regrettably, I have no idea." The agent replied. Both looking away from the mirror and back at each other.
THE NEXT DAY
During Christmas, Carl and Frank still had plans for their morning breakfast. But for the weirdest occasion. Mostly to cope with the fact that there was no way to resolve this curse. Even so with the awareness of what else was about to happen. It all happened so fast that Carl wasn't able to think about it hard enough until the Christmas break was over.
Surprisingly Frank took everything in charge for the most part. Since all of his wardrobe was nothing but clown wear, they had to think of something else and fast. Going to the tailor that morning after Christmas, Frank traded in all of Carl's clothes for newly fit ones. They were all still the same clothes he wore. Just the fact everything needed to be 2 sizes smaller.
Being an F. B. I. Agent, he had to do it fast. Work was just the day after Christmas. Making it so even Frank sensed Carl's anxiety. Asking the tailor for only one outfit for the day, Frank drove back to Carl's home and immediately shoved the business wear into his face. The good thing was the slacks and button up fit. The bad thing was just how to get Carl there without everything calling for security.
As they sat in the car just outside of the F. B. I. head quarters, Carl immediately tensed as the car was switched off.
Looking at his boss, Frank frowned.
"Come on Carl, we just need to tell Mr. Marsh what has happened and maybe he will believe us." Frank tried to comfort.
Carl immediately nervously chuckled at the word 'maybe'. "Frank there is one thing to know about Mr. Marsh and that is he doesn't take jokes wisely. Even just truthful subjects that look like a joke, he doesn't believe you."
Frank sighed in defeat. "Carl just relax and act like nothing happened in the first place." Opening the door to the car, Frank got up to leave.
"Easy for you to say," Carl whispered to himself as he too began to get out of the car.
Nearing the front doors, Carl and Frank pulled out their badges. The two front guards greeted both of them with a nod. Each one of them was able to pass by but not without a suspicious glare from both guards that were directed at the agent. Walking closer to their department, the agent's hands began to fidget. He was just about to turn and walk back down the hall when Frank caught him to it.
"No! Carl," He warned as quietly and controlled as possible to not distract other employees. "You're going to be fine." The young man whispered.
"This is not okay! Admit it!" The agent harshly whispered back. Both now silent as a woman walking by looked at them in suspicion.
Out of her earshot, they continued their argument. "What am I suppose to do after we tell him? He can't just automatically call over the phone to the whole department saying Agent Carl Hanratty just took an unknown substance that made him 17 years younger!"
"That's what rumors are for," Frank reasoned. Causing him to be treated with a glare.
Frank sighed in frustration. "Carl, if it makes you feel any better, you're not helping. I'm trying to help you the best way I-"
"Hey Mr. Abagnale!" Mr. Amdursky hollered across the hall.
"Shit!" Both men cursed. Walking between the short distance to Carl and Frank, Mr. Amdursky was just about in sight of them when suddenly Frank kicked Carl in the shin while accidentally knocking off the man's hat. Almost shouting in pain, Carl bent over from the sudden shift of events.
Frank then looked down at Carl just enough to have him hear his whispers. "Pretend you just dropped your hat and put it back on to the point where its over your eyes!"
"Thanks for the heads up!" Carl grunted back.
As Mr. Ambursky neared the both of them, Carl had already stood straight up again. Taking Frank's request, he placed the hat down as far as it could go.
"How are you this morning?" Mr. Amdursky asked.
"Doing good," Frank nodded.
"Who's this?" The blond agent asked. Looking at the person in speaking that stood by Frank.
"Oh, this is Mr. Peterson." Frank lied as he looked back and forth to the agents. Holding out his arm, Carl and Mr. Amdursky shook hands.
"Pleasure to meet you Mr. Peterson," The blonde mildly smiled. Trying to look at the man in the eye but the hat making it impossible.
"Say uh, have you seen your boss?" Mr. Ambursky questioned.
Forwarding his brows, Frank played along. "No I haven't seen him. Was he suppose to do an important task?"
"If you call it that." Mr. Amdursky chuckled. "Mr. Marsh was requesting to see him 2 days ago but since it was the holidays they had to cancel."
"Oh," Frank awed. "Well I'll let him know we talked." With a goodbye nod, Mr. Amdursky began to head down the hall way.
"See you later Mr. Amdrusky," Frank big a farewell.
"See yeah," The blond replied.
Out of earshot once again, Carl lifted up his hat to see.
"Well that's a relief you at least have to go see him." Frank said.
"Yeah, but I can't believe I forgot about that." Carl said.
"Depending on this situation you're in, I think you're allowed to." Frank replied. Causing another nervous chuckle to pass the agent's lips.
Walking through the department, almost immediately people began to look at Frank and Mr. Peterson. Reaching Mr. Marsh's office, Frank knocked on the door.
"Come in," Mr. Marsh replied on the other side. Opening the door, Mr. Marsh was sitting at his desk when he looked up to see just whom it was.
"Mr. Abagnale," The man greeted. Looking to the side at Carl with mild wonderment. "May I help you?"
"Yes, Mr. Marsh we uh-"
"Frank," Carl said. Looking at the criminal in the eye.
"You look very familiar there, Mr...?" Mr. Marsh trailed.
"Peterson," Frank said.
"Mr. Peterson," Mr. Marsh fully said. "You look almost exactly like one of my agents."
"I'm sure he does," Frank replied.
"Gentlemen," Carl brought to their attention. Taking off his hat, he looked at them both with a serious stare. "That's because I am Agent Carl Hanratty."
Confusion immediately was written on Mr. Marsh's face as he looked back to Frank and Carl.
"Here," Carl stated. Pulling out his badge. As the person in the badge was resembled to the person standing in front of him, Mr. Marsh looked at the agent, shocked.
"Sir do you believe in the supernatural?" Carl asked. "Or any involvement of ghosts at all?"
"Thomas Myrtle." Mr. Marsh muttered.
All eyes slightly widening by the information. Looking at Mr. Marsh to encourage him to tell more of what he knew, he responded by handing back Carl's badge.
"You might want to get that renewed." The Assistant Director advised. Looking at Carl and back at Mr. Marsh, both the men standing were wondering the exact same thing.
"Re-renewed, sir?" Frank asked.
With one nod in their direction he got up from his chair. "I'm sorry to tell you this Agent Carl Hanratty. But the liquid you gulped is permanent."
To Be Continued...