Anchor

The weathered planks of the pier creaked under Adam Ellis's weight as he sat as the delicate mist rolled in from off the water. The gentle lapping of waves against the wooden posts was a far cry from the roar of the crowd he was used to in the ring. Adam inhaled deeply, savoring the air that filled his lungs.

His hands gripped the edge of the bench. The coolness of the damp wood was soothing against his skin, still tender from last night's match. As he gazed out at the misty expanse before him, Adam felt the tension in his shoulders begin to ease. This moment of solitude was a rare gift in his whirlwind life as a pro wrestler.

A small figure appeared beside him, seeming to materialize from the fog itself… a young girl wearing a pretty dress with red hair, no more than eight or nine, with familiar eyes that stirred something deep within Adam's chest.

"Hi there," she said, her voice high and sweet. "Can I sit with you?"

Adam's eyebrows rose slightly in surprise. What's a kid doing out here alone? he wondered. But there was something about her that put him at ease.

"Sure thing, little lady," he replied, his usual measured tone softened further. He scooted over slightly, making room on the weathered bench. She settled in beside him.

"Whatcha doing out here all by yourself?" Adam asked, his Midwestern twang becoming more pronounced as he relaxed.

The girl swung her legs, which didn't quite reach the pier below. "Just watching the water. It's pretty, isn't it?"

Adam nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "That it is. Reminds me of home, back in Missouri."

The girl's voice broke the silence, high and sweet. "What's your name, mister?"

Adam's brow furrowed, his wrestler's instincts sensing something significant in this encounter. He turned to face her, his massive frame dwarfing her small figure.

"I'm Adam," he replied, his Midwestern twang more pronounced. "What about you?"

"I'm Abbigail," she answered, a smile spreading across her face.

Adam's mind reeled. Abbigail? It couldn't be... His own daughter, his little Abbigail, was just a newborn. And yet, here sat this girl, with eyes that mirrored his own and red hair that mirrored Ginny’s.

"You know," Abbigail continued, her gaze fixed on the misty horizon, "you remind me of someone."

Adam's interest piqued, his body tensing. "Oh yeah? Who's that?"

Abbigail's eyes grew distant, her small voice tinged with a sadness that hit Adam harder than any clothesline. "My daddy. The one I never knew."

Adam's chest tightened. He leaned in, his voice gentle, a stark contrast to his size. "What happened to him?"

Abbigail's tiny fingers traced invisible patterns on the weathered wood, her voice barely above a whisper. "Mama says he went away when I was just a baby," she explained.

“He did?”

“Yes.  Just one day, he disappeared and he was gone...”

The impact of her statement knocked the wind out of Adam.

"…I wish he hadn't left us."

His mind spun, desperately trying to piece together this impossible puzzle.

"I miss him," Abbigail continued, her voice rising to a child-like pitch that sent shivers down Adam's spine.  “Mommy misses him.”

“She does?”

The girl nodded.  "Mommy misses him a lot."

Stunned at her words, all Adam could do was stare back at the young child.

Abbigail popped back up to her feet. “Well.  I have to go now.”

A realization dawned on Adam.

"Wait!" he called out.

The young girl skipped away into the fog. “Goodbye!”

“No!”  Adam’s tone was desperate as he reached for her, his hand grasping at the mist. “Wait!”

But she was gone, dissolving into the fog, leaving Adam grasping at empty air. The pier creaked beneath him, a lonely sound in the sudden silence.

The haunting twang of a guitar strumming a riff pierced through Adam Ellis's consciousness, the opening notes of 49 Winchester's "Anchor" drifting through his mind.

“Silly boy, oh, what were you thinking? You should've been sinking your ship So when they get there and look for your treasure There won't be any treasure left…”

His eyes snapped open.  Deep in the murky darkness of the Boca Reservoir, panic seized his chest as cold water rushed into his lungs. The eerie blue glow of the submerged rental car's dashboard illuminated his surroundings.

“They will not know where your mother is stowed 'Cause by now she'd be gasping for breath She's under the water Under the water now…”

Empty beer bottles bobbed around him, a grim reminder of the hours he'd spent psyching himself up for the moment he finally floored the rental car, shot across the road, and down an embankment into the reservoir.

“Undertaker, why are you here now? You know that I'm not quite dead yet And I know, oh, I know, you cannot have me Until I have paid off my debt…”

Adam's hand began to fumble with the seatbelt, his fingers clumsy and slow in the frigid water

“As for my mother, you know I still owe her There's something you seem to forget She's under the water Under the water now…”

His lungs burned, screaming for air, as he fought against the restraint as the song playing inside his head built and built to a roaring crescendo.

“Well now, pull up my anchor…”

With a final yank, the seatbelt released. Adam's muscular frame surged upward through the open driver’s side window, his arms cutting through the water.

“Well now, pull up my anchor…”

As he propelled himself towards the surface, Adam's thoughts flickered to Abbigail. The dream version of her face, so vivid moments ago, now seemed to mock him from the depths.

“Well now, pull up my anchor…”

Adam’s determination grew with each powerful stroke.

“Baby, don't let me die…”

Adam's head broke the surface with a tremendous splash, his lungs greedily gulping in the crisp night air.

“I wanna live now…”

The cold stung his face, a sharp contrast to the numbing embrace of the water.  Adam's eyes, wide with panic, adjusted to the inky darkness as he treaded water…

“I'm just so damn high…”

…and saw the lights of a nearby campground off in the distance on the other side of the reservoir.

“That I can see the surface…”

(Beat)

The single guitar riff from "Anchor" returned in his head. With a deep breath, Adam began to swim towards the distant shore, each stroke a silent promise to the family he'd nearly left behind.

“Mother is sunken, son, he is drunken But father still stands upon land Well, I see him clearly, standing there shore-side And offering said son his hand…”

The gentle lapping of waves against his face marked each powerful stroke towards the shore.

“I see the callus and rope burn in his palm And it makes me want to be a man…”

His muscles, honed from countless hours in the gym and the ring, propelled him forward with determination as the song again reached a crescendo.

“Pull up my anchor Pull my anchor now…”

Adam stood up and stumbled onto the beach, his massive frame collapsing onto his hands and knees before he rolled onto his back.

“Well now, pull up my anchor…

Water streamed from his clothes…

“Well now, pull up my anchor…”

…mixing with the tears that now flowed freely down his face along with blood from the gash on his forehead from the match the night before- reopened when Adam’s forehead slammed into the steering wheel at impact with the water.

“Well now, pull up my anchor…”

He stared up at the star-filled sky as the single riff guitar part played once again in his head.

“Baby, don't let me die…”

Adam's chest heaved as he fought to catch his breath.

“I wanna live now…”

He raised a trembling hand to his face, wiping away the mixture of reservoir water, blood, and tears.

“I'm just so damn high…

Adam closed his eyes.

“I can see the surface-”

Adam lay sprawled on the beach like a beached whale, his chest heaving with each labored breath on the same beat of the song as it reached its final climax.

"Baby, don't let me die…”

The coarse sand clung to his soaked clothes as he tried to move.

“I wanna live now…”

He heard a rustle of grass… footsteps, perhaps, off in the distance.

“I'm just so damn high…”

A pinprick of light pierced the inky blackness, growing larger with each passing second.

“And I can see the surface…”

The song fades and…

"See, Daddy? I told you I heard something!"

Heavy footsteps crunched on the pebbled shore. A man's deep voice followed, "Stay back, sweetie. Let me check."

Adam's mind raced as the beam of a flashlight swept over him, momentarily blinding him.

"Good Lord," a man exclaimed. "Are you alright, mister?"

Adam squinted against the harsh light, his usually soft-spoken voice now a gravelly whisper. "I've had better days."

The man approached cautiously, extending a hand. Adam grasped it, allowing himself to be pulled to his feet. Even in his weakened state, the wrestler's height dwarfed his rescuer.

“What’s your name, son?”

”Adam.”

"Well Adam, we should probably call the authorities, get you checked out," the man said, concern evident in his voice.

Panic surged through Adam.  "No!" His voice boomed, startling the man's daughter.  Adam immediately softened his tone, guilt washing over him. "Sorry.  No, please. I just... I can't deal with that right now."

The man studied Adam's face.  “Did you just intentionally drive your car into the reservoir?”

Adam’s non-answer told the man everything he needed to know.

“Son-“

“Please,” he said desperately, “I can't face the world. Not yet.  I just need to… think… sleep.”

A few seconds went by before finally, the man nodded. "Alright. We've got a cabin on the other side of the reservoir. You can rest up there."

Relief flooded through Adam, his shoulders sagging. "Thank you," he murmured, his voice drenched in exhaustion.

**************************************

Adam's fingers trembled around the warm mug as he stared out at the placid reservoir. The weight of unspoken words pressed against his chest, threatening to burst forth. He took a deep breath, the scent of pine and fresh coffee filling his lungs.

“Son, do you mind telling me why you tried to kill yourself?” the man asked.

"I really messed up," he began, his voice barely above a whisper. The floodgates opened, and suddenly Adam found himself pouring out his soul to this kind stranger.

“We all mess up. It’s part of living your life.”

“I’m… I’m a pro wrestler,” Adam revealed.

“Okay. So, you spend lots of time on the road then?”

Adam nodded in the affirmative.

“So… I’m guessing things weren’t going the greatest.”

Adam nodded again. “You could say that.”

“So what exactly happened?”

“Yeah,” Adam agreed. “My wife Ginny was pregnant and had to stay home.  I hated to be away from her.  And I was losing matches… the pressure kept building and building until… the night. I was sitting at a hotel bar after the show… nursing a beer… and missing my wife.  The waitress comes up and says a cute blonde in the back bought me a beer.  So, I drank it.  The waitress brings me another.  I drink that, too.  I never saw her face until she finally came up to me.  I was drunk off my ass and she talked me into going back to my hotel room. And… I betrayed my wife.  I let down everyone but especially... Ginny.

“Then what happened?”

"I came home and Ginny was gone… everything was gone," Adam continued, shame coloring his words. "I hurt Ginny.  And… I hurt myself."

Adam braced himself for judgment, his broad shoulders hunched. Instead, the man's voice was surprisingly gentle.

"That doesn't mean your life is over, son."

“Huh?”

“There’s going to be consequences to your actions. Ask for forgiveness and try to move forward.  Do you want to be a part of your daughter’s life?”

Adam didn’t hesitate to respond.  “Yes.”

“Do something about it then.”

Adam looked up. "How?" he asked, his voice cracking. "How do I even begin to fix this?"

The man gestured to the reservoir, its surface glimmering in the early evening light. "You start by cleansing yourself. Not just your body, but your soul. Then we'll talk about your next move."

Adam nodded, setting down his mug. He peeled off his shirt, the cool evening air raising goosebumps on his skin. As he waded in, the water lapped at his body and shocked his system.

With a deep breath, Adam submerged himself completely. The world went silent, muffled by the embrace of the water.

When he broke the surface, droplets cascading down his face, Adam felt a weight lift from his shoulders. He trudged back to shore, where the man waited with a towel.

Adam accepted the towel, his large hands trembling slightly as he dried himself off. The man's eyes held a mix of compassion and curiosity.

"How do you feel?" the man asked, his voice cutting through the crisp morning air.

"Better," Adam replied, his soft Midwestern drawl tinged with renewed energy. He ran a hand through his damp hair, his eyes gazing out over the reservoir. "But I'm not sure where to go from here. I want Ginny back, but..."

The man nodded thoughtfully, his weathered face creasing with understanding. "Sometimes, the hardest thing to do is to admit you failed. You need to go to her and show her you've changed."

Adam's brow furrowed, a familiar gesture that deepened the lines on his face. "How?" he asked, his calloused hands fidgeting at his sides.  “She’s gone back to Kentucky with Abbigail.  I don’t know where she’s at and how to get a hold of her.”

"You need to begin by getting yourself together," the man said, his tone reflecting someone who had been through this before. "Next, find a way to reach out to her. When you talk to her, don't offer excuses. Instead, show her that you understand the hurt you caused and that you’ll do everything in your power to ensure it never happens again."

**************************************

Riding in the car into town Tuesday morning… three days after he drove his rental car into the reservoir, Adam's mind raced with possibilities. The Amtrak train station loomed ahead in Truckee, California.  He would take the train to Los Angeles and hang low for a few days getting his head together.

The man pulled into the parking lot and parked his truck.

“Thank you,” Adam said, shaking his head.

“Adam.  One day at a time.  And you really should reach out to your parents.  They’ve got to be worried sick about you.”

“I know.”

Adam exited the truck and walked around to the driver’s side.

"Go ahead and tell the authorities about the rental," Adam said, his hand on the door handle. He paused, his voice softening. "Thank you so much. I appreciate everything you did."

The man smiled, a glimmer of hope in his eyes. "Good luck, Adam. Remember, redemption starts with a single step."

Adam nodded as he turned away to go board the train to Los Angeles.

**************************************

Later that day, the rusted chain creaked under the weight of Adam's waterlogged rental car as it emerged from the murky depths of Boca Reservoir. Sunny O'Callahan stood at the water's edge, numb and holding her breath. Her frizzy blonde hair whipped in the wind, that rebellious curl falling across her forehead as she watched the grim spectacle unfold.

“Well?” she said to the police officer walking up to her.

"There's no sign of Mr. Ellis," a police officer informed Sunny, his voice cutting through the eerie silence. "We found some empty beer bottles inside."

Sunny's heart plummeted.

"But, the driver's window was down," he added.

"What does that mean?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, the hint of an Irish lilt creeping in as her composure wavered.

The officer shifted uncomfortably. "We'll send divers to search the bottom tomorrow, but..." His voice trailed off.

This can't be happening, Sunny thought, her mind reeling. “Okay.  I’ll let his parents know.  Thank you.”

With trembling hands, she pulled out her phone and dialed Adam's parents. She took a deep breath, summoning every ounce of her theatrical training.

"Hi Mr. Ellis. They found Adam's car," she said, her voice steady despite the turmoil within. "But he wasn't in there... right… they're still looking.  The driver’s window was down.  He could have escaped.  We can't lose hope.  All right.  I’ll let you know if I hear anything."

As she ended the call, the facade crumbled like a folding chair under a wrestler's weight. Sunny collapsed onto a nearby rock, her body wracked with sobs.

"Dammit, Adam!" she shouted to the indifferent water, her words carried away by the wind.

Her fingers dug into the rough surface of the rock, anchoring her as waves of fear and despair washed over her. In that moment, Sunny O'Callahan felt helpless… or as Brian Wilson once wrote, “like a cork in an ocean floating over a raging sea.”

**************************************

Epilogue The sun glinted off the hood of a sleek car winding its way through the small town of McDowell, Kentucky. Behind the wheel, Dawn McGill's statuesque frame filled the driver's seat, her blonde waves cascading over her shoulders like a waterfall of gold. She reached an intersection and turned left.

As she crossed the Henry Stumbo bridge crossing the Beaver Creek, the McDowell First Baptist Church came into view, its white spire piercing the clear blue sky. Dawn's grip on the steering wheel tightened imperceptibly.

Thanks to the information she’d gleamed from Ginny’s cousins… Cletus T. Johnson and Enos T. Johnson… (Dawn used to be their manager in MVW), Dawn had driven the night to pull into the Baptist church Ginny’s father preached in before his untimely death two years ago.

Dawn spotted Ginny's familiar truck parked outside the church. She pulled over to the side of the road, her heart pounding like it was trying to escape her chest. The engine idled, a low rumble that matched the turmoil in her gut.

Dawn took a deep breath and glanced at her reflection in the rearview mirror.  Dawn didn’t see the ruthless Agent Zarya she’d brainwashed to become after the Soviet Bloc captured and tortured her. She saw a woman trying to right a terrible wrong and Ginny needed to hear the real story about what happened that night with Vickie Hall.

Dawn shifted the car into drive and guided her car into the church parking lot. The gravel crunched beneath her tires as she pulled up next to Ginny's truck.

As she cut the engine, Dawn's hand lingered on the keys.  She glanced up at the ceiling of the car.

"God, if you're listening... I could use a little help here."

**************************************

The frizzy blonde curl fell across Sunny O'Callahan's forehead as she stumbled off the jetway, her usual vibrant energy replaced by a hollow emptiness. The cacophony of LAX washed over her, but she barely registered it. Her hands gripped the strap of her bag, knuckles white with tension.

Sunny's eyes darted around the bustling terminal, searching for... what? A miracle? As she shuffled towards baggage claim, her mind raced. Why was she even in Los Angeles and why was Adam booked for ReVival 60? He was gone. There was no way he would show up for the match. This was pointless.

A businessman jostled past her, breaking her from her reverie. Sunny blinked, realizing she had been standing stock-still in the middle of the terminal.

"Sorry, darlin'," she said, forcing a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. "Just lost in thought."

Sunny reached the baggage carousel, her eyes unfocused as luggage began to roll past.

"Miss O'Callahan!" A fan's voice cut through the airport din, startling Sunny from her reverie. She plastered on a fake smile, muscle memory kicking in as she turned to face the excited young man waving a wrestling program.

"Well, if it ain't my favorite fan in all of LAX," Sunny drawled. She scrawled her signature across the glossy page, her movements automatic.

"Are you here for ReVival 60?" the fan asked, eyes shining. "Is Adam Ellis really gonna be there tomorrow night?"

Sunny's smile faltered for a microsecond before she recovered. "Now, sugar, you know I can't go spillin' trade secrets. You'll just have to tune in and see for yourself."

As the fan walks away, Sunny's shoulders slumped once more. She hefted her suitcase off the carousel with a grunt, her loose top doing little to hide her weariness. She turned to leave when her phone chimed. Sunny's hand retrieved it and she glanced down to her phone to read the message.

Sunny’s jaw dropped and her eyes widened with disbelief, her breath catching in her throat.

“I’m okay.”