Page 11 of Thawed Gladiator: Lucius
Chapter Five
Raven
The entrance to the Potosi mines looms before us like a gaping mouth in the hillside. Weathered timbers frame the opening, with a barely visible rusted sign warning, “DANGER - NO TRESPASSING.”
“How legitimate is our access to this place?” Lucius asks, his voice betraying no judgment, only practical concern.
“Semi-legitimate,” I admit. “I have permission from the historical society, just not for after-hours visits… with company.”
His lips quirk in what might be a smile, and my stomach does an unexpected flip. “Bending rules rather than breaking them,” he observes.
“I operate in gray areas.” The familiar pre-investigation excitement tightens my chest, though tonight it’s different—more electric with him beside me.
Lucius studies the dark opening, his unusual eyes reflecting the flashlight’s beam in a way that makes them appear almost luminous. He’s dressed simply tonight—black jeans and a long-sleeved dark gray Henley that makes his pale skin seem to glow in the darkness. The fabric stretches across his broad shoulders in a way that’s impossible not to notice. I force my attention back to the mine entrance.
“Ready?” I ask, trying to sound more confident than I feel. Something about exploring with him makes this different from my usual investigations—like I’m being tested in ways that have nothing to do with capturing good content.
He nods, taking the extra flashlight I offer. “Lead the way.” His words flow through the translation device.The mine’s entrance gives way to a surprisingly well-preserved main tunnel. The walls glisten wetly in our flashlight beams, veined with dark streaks of lead ore that seem to pulse in the shifting light. The ceiling presses down, barely six feet high in places, forcing Lucius to duck his head occasionally.
The walls seem to close in with each step deeper, the weight of earth above us almost palpable. My breathing grows shallow—not just from the thin air, but from the crushing sense of being buried alive. The beam of my flashlight wavers slightly as my hand trembles, and I focus on Lucius’s steady presence beside me to combat the rising panic.
“These mines date back to the 1700s,” I explain, my voice automatically dropping. “They made Potosi one of the richest mining towns in Missouri—and one of the deadliest.”
“The worst disaster?” His question comes as his fingers trace a support beam warped under centuries of pressure.
“1856—a cave-in trapped nineteen men in the northern shaft. By the time rescuers reached them three weeks later, only three had survived.”
Lucius stops suddenly, his head tilting as though listening to something beyond my perception. “This path has witnessed much suffering.”
His simple statement sends a shiver down my spine. There’s no theatrical delivery, no dramatic flair—just calm certainty that somehow carries more weight than any performance could.
“Do you sense something specific?” I ask, feeling the urge to grab my audio recorder out of habit.
“Not yet. The meaning drifts like smoke.” He advances, unhindered by shadow. “In the depths, truth gathers form.”
The air grows thicker as we descend, each breath tasting of copper and time. The darkness beyond our flashlight beams feels alive, hungry, and I fight the urge to turn back toward the distant promise of sky and open air. Moisture beads on the stone walls, creating an oppressive humidity that makes my clothes stick to my skin.
Water seeps through my boots, cold as death against my skin. Our flashlight beams catch abandoned equipment—pickaxes rusted to a dark reddish-brown, the remains of a cart with wooden wheels half-rotted away, metal lanterns scattered recklessly in a pile.
“The north shaft should be ahead,” I say, consulting the rough map I’ve studied. “That’s where the 1856 disaster happened.”
Lucius pauses at a junction where our tunnel meets another. “This way,” he says with certainty, turning left down a passage I wouldn’t have chosen.
“How do you know?” But I follow without hesitation.
We move deeper. The tunnel narrows, the ceiling dropping even lower. Support beams groan ominously overhead, bowing under centuries of pressure.
My chest tightens as claustrophobia claws at the edges of my consciousness. The walls seem to pulse inward with each heartbeat, and I have to resist the primitive urge to claw my way back to the surface. When I visited before, I hadn’t gotten half this far. Only Lucius’s calm presence keeps me moving forward.
A distant rumble makes us both freeze.
“Thunder?” I ask hopefully.
“Perhaps settling rock.” His voice stays calm, but his hand finds mine in the darkness, strong and surprisingly warm. “Stay close.”
Together, we navigate the increasingly claustrophobic passage until it opens into a larger chamber. My flashlight beam swings across collapsed rubble on one side—timbers splintered like matchsticks, massive rocks jumbled in what was once a passageway.
“The cave-in,” I whisper, my free hand rising instinctively to the memorial pendant at my throat.
