The Relic of Past

The next morning, Sam woke up early as usual and started preparing breakfast. This was a habit he developed after moving to Alaska. 

For a native New Yorker, traditional Alaskan dishes like salmon hash and sourdough pancakes weren't his style, so as soon as life stabilized, he began preparing his own breakfasts that reminded him of home. 

As expected, Big Joe, the landlord and owner of Klondike Antiques, showed up at the table right on time. He casually helped set the table, a habit he'd developed after eating with Sam for over a year. He had even mastered using chopsticks, rendering the knives and forks in the kitchen obsolete. 

Once Sam had removed the steaming bagels and scrambled eggs from the stove and set them on plates, the two of them sat down with mugs of hot coffee, slurping between bites and planning the day ahead. 

"Joe, do you still have those old military maps from World War II lying around?" 

"Of course, I've got tons of those. They don't sell for much, though." 

"After breakfast, let's grab them. I want to pick a few to study." 

Hearing this, Big Joe paused, holding a forked piece of bagel, and stared at Sam. "You've got another lead?" 

Sam shook his head and played it cool. "Not exactly. I've just hit a dead end with the last batch of sites, so I thought some fresh maps might spark new ideas. I've been focusing on the Alaskan battlefields from the Aleutian Campaign for months now, and it's time for something fresh." 

What he didn't admit was that he wanted to test whether the bracelet's map-burning feature would work on maps he hadn't personally dug up. Otherwise, he'd run out of work once all the remaining locations were excavated. 

"Fine," Big Joe replied with a shrug. "After breakfast, I've got errands to run downtown—bank stuff and dealing with yesterday's haul. I'll leave you in charge of the shop for the morning. The maps are in that big cardboard box under the counter. Take whatever you need." 

"Thanks a lot!" Sam said, thrilled. Those maps might not be worth much to Joe, but they could be priceless for his experiments. 

Once Big Joe left with a couple of bagels to go, Sam didn't rush to open the store. Instead, he pulled out the old leather-bound journal and thread-bound books he'd unearthed the day before. 

More than anything, he was curious about the origins of the mysterious bracelet. Why did a German officer have something that seemed distinctly American? 

The journal, though degraded by age, contained just enough legible text to piece together a story. Its owner, Werner, had been an artillery commander during the war. According to one entry, Werner's family had brought back various items from their time in the United States during the early 1900s, some of which included valuable heirlooms. 

There was no direct mention of the bracelet in the diary, but Sam guessed it had been passed down through Werner's family. It seemed Werner wasn't just a soldier—he had a philosophical side, reflecting on the futility of war in several entries. 

Sam decided the diary was too risky to keep. If descendants of Werner's family existed, they might piece together the bracelet's significance. Carefully, he tossed the diary into a tin bucket and burned it, ensuring no loose ends remained. 

After securing the thread-bound books in a metal cabinet, Sam opened the Klondike Antique Shop for the day. The shop itself was small, occupying part of the ground floor. Most of its contents were low-value military souvenirs like old uniforms, canteens, and badges from the U.S. Army or local militias. 

The real treasures, however, were hidden in the basement. Gun laws in Alaska were less restrictive than in many parts of the U.S., but dealing with rare or vintage firearms without the proper permits was still risky. Anything with Nazi insignias or potentially stolen provenance also had to be handled discreetly. 

Sam rummaged under the counter and pulled out a box of old military maps. They were indeed a mixed lot, including maps from American, German, and even Canadian forces, most of them covering Alaska and the Aleutian Islands. 

Careful not to touch the maps directly with his left hand, Sam organized them by region and origin. Then, he tested his theory. He pressed the bracelet on the first map, holding his breath. 

One second. 

Two seconds. 

Thirty seconds. 

Nothing. 

Puzzled, he picked up another map, rubbing it against the bracelet. Still nothing. 

"What's going on?" Sam muttered, frustration growing as he tried map after map, even damaging a few in his desperation. 

He took a deep breath, forcing himself to think logically. There were two possibilities: either the bracelet could only absorb maps that he had personally discovered, or it required him to first excavate the locations already marked on its display. 

Opening the bracelet's interface, Sam studied the two remaining arrows on the virtual map. If his guess was correct, he'd need to investigate these sites before the bracelet would accept new maps. 

Decision made, Sam compared the bracelet's coordinates with his GPS. The first site was about ten miles south of town, while the second was located westward, near an old airfield. 

"South it is," he decided. The southern site was closer, and he could finish the job and return before lunch. 

After locking up the shop, Sam hopped into his rusty van and sped out of town, following the GPS coordinates. Less than thirty minutes later, he arrived at the site—a cluster of overgrown cabins near a disused logging mill. 

"Seriously?" he muttered, eyeing the abandoned property. The arrow pointed directly to the main cabin. 

Sam's excitement quickly turned to dread. Sneaking onto private property in Alaska was risky; many residents were armed, and he had no intention of ending up on the wrong end of a shotgun. 

Frustrated but undeterred, Sam marked the location on his phone and moved on to the second site. 

This time, he pulled up to a decrepit, boarded-up house in the middle of nowhere. The arrow on the bracelet's map pointed straight inside. 

"No way," Sam muttered, shaking his head. Still, he wasn't about to turn back. If these were the last leads, he had to pursue them. 

Reluctantly, he knocked on the door.