Page 2 of Thawed Gladiator: Cassius

Shaking off my doubts, I step out of the car. The gravel crunches under my feet as I make my way to the farmhouse door. Each step feels monumental. This isn’t just a job interview—it’s a lifeline. A chance to leave behind double shifts at the Waffle House, the constant struggle to make rent, and the lingering shame of my past.

And the gladiators? The thought sends excitement flashing through me. Ancient warriors, transported to the future. It sounds like something out of a sci-fi novel. Part of me is terrified. But another part? Thrilled at the possibility of meeting them, of coming face to face with pieces of the past that have come alive like characters stepping out of a storybook.

Before I can second-guess myself, I knock on the door. It swings open almost immediately, revealing a blonde woman with kind eyes and an air of quiet authority. “Diana?” she asks, smiling. “I’m Laura. Welcome to Second Chance. Come in.”

The farmhouse interior is cozy, all warm woods and earth-tone fabrics. As Laura leads me to a small office, I notice the decorating scheme, if you can call it that. Modern tech mixes with antique furniture and books stacked everywhere. It’s an odd combination, but somehow it seems comfy, inviting.

“Have a seat,” Laura says, gesturing to a comfortable-looking chair in an office off the main foyer. Although there are pocket doors, she leaves them open as she ushers me into the welcoming space. “Can I get you anything? Water? Coffee?”

“Water would be great, thanks.” My voice just wavered. But maybe she didn’t notice it.

As Laura goes to the kitchen for water, I take a moment to collect myself.You can do this, Diana. Just be honest. Show her what you can bring to the table.

“So.” Laura hands me a glass of ice water and, rather than pulling a power move and sitting behind her desk, she settles into a nearby chair. I like her already.

“Tell me about yourself, Diana. Why did you answer our ad?”

Taking a sip to buy time, I consider my words carefully. “Well, I’ve always loved horses. They’ve been… a constant for me, I guess. Even when everything else was chaos.”

Laura nods encouragingly, and suddenly the words come tumbling out. Why should I lie? I imagine she already did a background check on me. After all, these gladiators are the biggest news story of the century. If she researched me, she probably knows more about me than my parents do. I might as well put my own spin on what she’s already read.

“I grew up in the foster system. Bounced around a lot. But when I was fourteen, I ended up in a group home that had this amazing equine therapy program. It was such a lucky break. It changed everything for me.” I pause as I remember how it opened a whole new world. I’m still grateful I got picked for that program.

As I speak, memories flood back. The first time I touched a horse’s velvety nose. The sense of peace that washed over me when I learned to groom their coats and braid their manes. The pride I felt when I mastered the art of keeping my seat through a trot and then a gallop.

“After I aged out of the system, I got a job with a therapeutic riding program,” I continue. “It was incredible, watching as the horses helped kids like me. I worked my way up from a grunt, doing little more than grooming horses and shoveling manure, to working directly with our clients. But then…” I swallow hard. “The funding got cut. I’ve been waiting tables at the Waffle House in town, but…”

“But it’s not where your heart is,” Laura finishes softly.

“Exactly.” Relief washes over me. She gets it.

Laura leans forward, her expression thoughtful. “Diana, I’ll be honest. This job won’t be easy. We’re dealing with a unique situation here, as I’m sure you’ve heard. Our… residents… have special needs. It will take patience, understanding, and a lot of hard work.”

Laura’s eyes take on a distant look, as if gazing beyond the walls of her cozy office. “Over a year ago, I started an expedition, just looking for artifacts—pieces of history to study and preserve.” She pauses a moment, and it looks as though she’s making up her mind about something. Perhaps because I laid my cards on the table, she’s decided to share a bit of herself with me.

“And yeah, I’ll admit, I wanted the world to know I’d found the wreck of theFortuna. It had gone undiscovered for almost two thousand years. Most people chalked it up to myth rather than fact. But through years of research, learning to read and speak Latin, and earning a Master’s degree in archaeology, against all odds, I found it.”

Her chin lifts as a small smile spreads over her face. She’s proud of her accomplishments. I don’t blame her.

“Imagine how shocking it was when I discovered not just artifacts, but living, breathing people who’d been frozen beneath the Norwegian Sea for all those years.” She shakes her head as though she’s still astonished, although she has living proof.

“They’ve been medically thawed overseas and are now here in the compound we’ve created to keep them safe while they acclimate to a new world. I feel a tremendous responsibility to them. These men have lost everything they’ve ever known. Theyneed more than just a place to stay—they need a purpose, a chance to build new lives, and all the support we can throw at them.”

She leans forward, her gaze intense. “That’s why this compound in rural Missouri is so important. It’s not just about preserving history. It’s about helping these men find their place in our world, about giving them a future.”

Her gaze travels to the big picture window, and beyond.

“Varro, the first to be revived, and the man I love, lives in this old farmhouse with me. We’ve built the barracks you passed as you drove in. There is a large dining hall, schoolrooms, and room to sprawl when we decide what other projects we want to take on.”

Now she looks at me, her gaze piercing through me as though she’s known me for a long time. “And that’s where you come in, Diana. Your work with the horses could be exactly what some of these men need so they can heal and adjust.”

I nod, letting the full weight of her words sink in. This isn’t just a job—it’s a mission, a chance to be part of something truly extraordinary. Thinking about how much equine therapy helped me, I can only imagine how powerful it could be for these men who have so little to ground them.

“I understand, Ms. Turner. I’m not afraid of hard work. And as for patience? Well, I’ve spent the last six months dealing with truckers who think 3 AM is the perfect time to critique my coffee-pouring technique. I think after that I can tolerate just about anything.”

Laura laughs, a warm, genuine sound that puts me more at ease. “Fair point. But before we go any further, I think you should understand exactly what you’re getting into here. There’s been a lot of misinformation floating around and to be honest, we haven’t tried to correct the speculation. Let me give you the full story from the horse’s mouth, so to speak.”

As I laugh at her lame joke, my heart races as I nod, eager to hear the truth without the filter of Internet misinformation. The gossip I’ve found has been wild, to say the least.

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