Polaris by Beth Bowland Page A

“Well, I’d better go find the next artifact.”
    “Yes.” Zion handed him the crystal and carpet piece. “Don’t forget these.”
    Aaron retrieved the items from her hand. He unhooked his necklace and placed the crystal on it next to the falcons. He stuffed the carpet piece in his pants pocket. He closed his eyes and walked back through the wall.
    He stood on the ramp for a few minutes and looked around. He’d gone to Polaris and back, and Bixie was still the same. The snow had melted a little more, causing everything to glisten and shine. He thought about what Mr. Kessler said and wondered if he’d see him again, and if so, was he really a wolf in sheep’s clothing? Even though Zimmare said not to return to the meteorite, Aaron knew he’d return. He’d have to find a way to get his mother and Parker out of that place, just in case he did not win.
    Aaron slowly walked down the ramp to the library where he’d parked the truck. Being very attentive to his surroundings, he carefully checked traffic in both directions before crossing the street. He looked up at the building rooftop to see if there were any signs of Zimmare and his army. As Aaron neared his truck, he noticed the shopkeeper standing outside, talking to a woman. It was then that he remembered the words that the shopkeeper had sung earlier.
    “Row, row, row your boat, gently down the stream. Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily, Life is but a dream … ”
    “Down the stream,” Aaron whispered out loud. There was a stream that flowed near the old paper mill. He hurried to the truck, climbed in, fastened his seat belt, and started the engine. He eased the truck out of park and headed down to the mill.
    As he drove he passed several people he knew, but they seemed to not notice him. Even when people looked over at him, they waved and didn’t seem to care that a kid was driving a truck down the main road.
    The old paper mill stood at the edge of town far away from any of the residential neighborhoods. It was one of the first structures built when Bixie was established in the late 1800’s. It had signs of wear and tear, but it managed to continue producing quality paper products, allowing the residents of Bixie to live comfortable lives.
    Aaron got out of his truck and walked to the back of the mill, which was closed on the weekend. He surveyed the area carefully, closely examining anything and everything he came near. He even studied the trees just in case they decided to come to life.
    As he made his way near the stream, he stopped and noticed an old shack just visible through a thicket of trees. It was small, dilapidated, and appeared to be an original structure dating back to the start of the mill. He’d never noticed it before on the days he and Parker tagged along with his uncle, the groundskeeper at the mill. He walked slowly to it as each twig he stepped on made a sound that seemed to echo for miles.
    The little shack was covered in cobwebs and fallen branches. He brushed them away and gently pushed down on the old latch to open the door. It opened with a squeak. Pushing the heavy wooden door open, he walked inside. It was windowless and just about empty except for a desk, a couple of bookcases, and what looked like a small closet. There was something written above the closet door. He pulled out the desk chair, climbed up on it, and brushed away the dust and cobwebs that covered the writing. He coughed and choked on the dust.
    Aaron read the word aloud. “Alrescha.” He stared at it for a few moments. “I know that word,” he continued to speak to the empty room. Sitting in the chair, he thought back to his astronomy lessons with his father. “Pisces!” he yelled out loud. “The Piscean constellation consisted of two fish that were bound together at their tails by a cord. Alrescha.”
    Aaron was now pacing the small room, thinking about the clues he’d been given and trying to piece them together. “Row the boat up the stream. Merrily,