Page 4 of Thawed Gladiator: Cassius

For a moment, I’m speechless. Choose the horses? It’s like every dream I’ve ever had is suddenly within reach. “I… yes. Absolutely. I’d be honored. Just let me know the budget.” Budget, goodness knows I hate that word; it rules my world.

“TheFortunawasn’t just carrying human cargo, Diana. It had two large chests of gold. We’re not strapped for cash.”

For a moment, my mind spins with pictures of expensive horseflesh, but I immediately come back to Earth. “We don’t need costly horses. In fact, just the opposite will be better. A little older, a little calmer, a little slower—that’s what we need for therapy horses.”

Laura smiles. “See? I knew you’d fit right in. Substance is always more important than looks, right?”

Is she referring to my nose? My lips? It takes all my self-control not to touch my mouth to hide the scar that slashes from abovemy top lip through the bottom one. One look at her, though, with her compassionate brown eyes, reassures me there was no hidden meaning in her statement.

She stands and extends her hand. “Welcome aboard, Diana. I think you’re going to fit in just fine here.”

As I shake her hand, a wave of emotion washes over me. This is it. A new beginning. Not just a job, but a chance to make a difference, to be part of something bigger than myself.

Walking out of the farmhouse, I take a deep breath of the clean Missouri air. The empty corral no longer looks lonely—instead, it’s full of possibility. I can almost see the horses grazing and hear the sound of hooves stomping on soft earth.

This is my chance to make a difference. And I’m going to give it everything I’ve got.

Chapter Three

Cassius

The harsh lights buzz overhead as I sit in the waiting room of the local clinic. I no longer mention how odd it is to have light without fire. Nor do I remark on how unusual it is to have music at the press of a button or to drive so fast in a horseless vehicle that my stomach flips. I keep my wonder—and terror—to myself.

It’s been weeks since we left the hospital in Switzerland to arrive in this place called Missouri, yet I still find myself marveling at the strangeness of it all. They say we’re not slaves, that I can leave. Where would I go? I’m alone in this world.

Even the other gladiators keep their distance. I’m told almost all of them were from the sameludusback in Rome and they didn’t meet me until I arrived at the docks in Ostia. Varro told me that before boarding, I was struck on the head and knockedsenseless. When I awoke on the ship, I had no memory of anything.

They are all friends with each other, having bonded under the hot sun as they trained together before we met. I feel totally alone, without any memories to comfort me other than the hellish boat trip and then drowning in freezing water, which my mind replays over and over when left to myself with nothing to do.

My thoughts drift back to those first confusing days in a country they call Switzerland, where I awoke to a world I couldn’t comprehend.

Varro told me that fourteen of us were discovered entombed in ice deep in the sea. Laura was looking for theFortunabecause of the gold it had been carrying in our time of 835Ab Urbe Condita, which they tell me is two thousand years ago.

He was completely frozen when she found and revived him. They were shipwrecked on a deserted island. Six months later, they recovered and resurrected the rest of us.

How did we survive, in ice, for two thousand years? None of the doctors and scientists have more than a clue, although most of the men believe that the Goddess Fortuna watched over us in the depths of the sea for all those years.

“Cassius?” A nurse calls my name, pulling me from my thoughts. “Dr. Reeves will see you now.”

My neurologist greets me with a smile as I enter her office. “How are you feeling today?”

“As well as can be expected,” I reply, glad she has a translator and can understand me.

She puts me through another round of examinations. Stand on one foot. Walk in a straight line. Follow the light with your eyes. Each task is a reminder of how much I’ve lost, how far I have to go. Yet, as frustrating as these tests are, I can’t deny the small spark of hope that ignites with each small gain I make.

“Your balance is improving,” Dr. Reeves notes, making a mark on what I know now is a device called a computer. “How are the headaches?”

I wince, as if her words summoned the dull throbbing at my temples. “Still at least one a day. Less frequent, perhaps, but—”

“But still disabling when they hit?”

I nod.

“We’ll adjust your medication. See if that helps. Now, let’s take a look at your latest scans.”

As she pulls up the images on her computer screen, I find my thoughts wandering. Back at the sanctuary, the others are probably going about their daily routines. Varro, the lucky bastard, lives in the farmhouse with Laura. That woman looks at him as though he were Jupiter himself.

Thrax lives in a small house built shortly after the property was purchased. The rest of us make do in the barracks, trying to create some semblance of normalcy in a world that feels anything but normal.

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