Page 19 of Thawed Gladiator: Varro

“I found your body encased in ice, hauled you from the bottom of the Norwegian Sea, and now you’re thawed and somehow, magically or miraculously, alive.”

He says nothing, but I see his face run a gamut of emotions. Now that he’s hinted at the worst times of his life, it’s no surprise that he can normally hide what he’s thinking, but this blow is too big to conceal. Now he seems to be cycling between shock and disbelief.

“My shipmates?” There’s no smirk now. He has that thousand-yard stare of someone who’s narrowly escaped being flattened by a semi.

“Presumed dead, but we only found the bow of the ship. When I can, I’ll look for them, though I have no idea how you survived and doubt the rest… fared so well.”

He’s a gladiator, been through so much, yet he looks ready to lose his shit. Even though he tried to kill me, I have compassion.

“Want some space? I can go to the men’s tent, rummage for clothes that might fit you, leave you alone for a bit.”

When he doesn’t answer, I don’t believe he’s being rude. Honestly, I doubt he heard me.

Chapter Seventeen

Marcus Fabius Varro

The woman—Laura—is gone, leaving me alone in this bizarre, confined space. Two thousand years? I’ve been… dead for thousands of years?

That can’t be. The bitch mounted me, touched me without permission, fed me food that isn’t food. She’s an enemy, perhaps a witch or a sorceress. My thoughts spiral for long moments as my mind rebels at her blatant lie. Then I consider more ways to kill her. Nothing so swift and relatively painless as choking. That would be too good for her. I think of methods that will result in the most agony and suffering possible. She will pay for this evil trick.

I’ve lived decades with the knowledge that everyone in my family is dead. For the most part, my grieving is behind me. But to think they are dust, that everyone I’ve ever known, ever spoken to, ever passed on the street is dust? That’s hard to swallow.

Grief, thick and hot, clogs the back of my throat and threatens to overpower me. Questions swirl in my mind like a flock of hungry crows.

But I tamp down my raging emotions and force myself to observe my surroundings.

The unnaturally smooth and perfectly symmetrical metal desk. Walls and utensils crafted from materials unknown to me. A small device spewing warmth without flame or smoke. Each object screams of a world far beyond my own.

Could it be true? The thought hits me like a blow to the gut, leaving me breathless. Grief claws at my throat, threatening to overwhelm me. I need to move, to feel my body work, to ground myself in something tangible. With monumental effort, I push myself to my feet.

Sweat beads on my brow as I stumble toward the mysterious archway Laura uses. A silver strip catches my eye. Mimicking her earlier actions, I pull the dangling tab. A strange ripping sound fills the air as the barrier parts, revealing a much larger space and a blast of frigid air.

The exertion leaves me pathetically weak, reminiscent of my recovery after Iragon’s spear tore through my side in Capua. But this weakness is far more profound, as if my very essence has been drained away.

The larger room is filled with incomprehensible metal contraptions, their purpose as alien to me as the stars. Each one serves as further proof of Laura’s incredible claim, hammering home the reality of my situation.

Which god have I offended to deserve this fate? Ripped from my time, thrust into an age of inedible food, bone-chilling cold, and women who… My mind shies away from that particular memory.

I scan the room, searching for another exit, desperate to confront Laura again. The shock of her revelation left me speechless before, but now questions burn on my tongue.

My gaze lands on the largest… thing in the room, a beast of metal and unknown substances, its parts fitting together with inhuman precision. The sight of it drives home the truth I’ve been fighting.

“By all the gods,” I whisper, my voice hoarse. “It’s true.”

The weight of two thousand years crashes down upon me. I am a relic, a man out of time, stranded in a world I cannot comprehend. My knees buckle, and I sink to the floor, overwhelmed by the magnitude of my situation.

But even as despair threatens to consume me, a flicker of something else ignites in my chest. Curiosity. Determination. The same fire that kept me alive in the arena now pushes me to face this new challenge.

I am Marcus Fabius Varro, gladiator and survivor. I’ve faced death countless times. This new world may be alien and terrifying, but I will not surrender to it. I will learn. I will adapt. I willconquer.

With renewed purpose, I force myself to my feet once more. It’s time to find Laura. I have questions, and by Jupiter, I will have answers.

Chapter Eighteen

Laura

The stench of unwashed clothes hits me like a wave as I rummage through the crew’s laundry bags. My nose wrinkles in disgust, but I press on, desperate to find something—anything—that might fit Varro. The irony isn’t lost on me; here I am, digging through other men’s dirty laundry to clothe a naked gladiator from ancient Rome. If someone had told me a week ago that this would be my life, I’d have laughed in their face.

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