On May 10th, the U.S. Government is going to make an announcement that could radically alter your retirement. | |
Two of America's largest banks - Goldman Sachs and J.P. Morgan - have quietly warned their richest clients to prepare for it.
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It's not hard to see what's happening.
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But it's hard to know what to do to protect yourself and your future.
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Dylan Jovine
CEO & Founder,
Behind the Markets
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No, don't go. I didn't want to take the heat alone, but Uncle Press had other things on his mind. Yes. You should go. Short, blunt, simple as that. Something about the way he said it made a red flag go up in my head. This didn't sound like Uncle Press. Normy he's the kind of guy who would think catching his nephew macking was pretty funny. In f, that's exly what happened when he caught me making out with Nancy Kilgore on the back porch. He just laughed. I was embarrassed as hell, but he got a real charge out of it. He'd bring it up every once in a while, just to jazz me. But not in front of anybody else, which made it okay. This time was different though. This time he wasn't laughing. Good luck tonight. I'll be cheering, said Courtney as she took a step…and walked square into the door. Ouch. Uncle Press leaned over and ed it for her. She gave him a quick, embarrassed nod of thanks, then shot me a look with the slightest hint of a sly smile. Then she was gone. Uncle Press cd the door and looked at me. I'm sorry, Bobby, but I need your help. I want you to come with me. Again, this didn't sound like Uncle Press. He was a loose kind of guy. My guess was he was in his fifties, but he didn't like a geezer. He was always goofing around, seemed to take things that ly. But tonight, he was dead . In f, it almost seemed as if he looked a little…scared. But, I got a game. County semis. I'm already late. You didn't seem too concerned about that a few seconds ago, he shot back. Good point. But I rey was late, and it was a big game. Mom and Dad are already t with Shannon. If I don't show up — They'll understand. I wouldn't ask you to do this if I didn't think it was more important than a basketb game…or kissing that beautiful girl who just left. I was prepared to argue on that last point, but man, he was ing pretty intense. It was weird. Then, as if he were reading my mind he said, Bobby, you've kn me your . Have you ever seen me like this? I didn't need to answer. Something was definitely up. Then you k how this is, he said with absolute finality. I didn't k what to do. At that very minute t was a team waiting for me to help them a county title. Not to mention a family, s, and an almost-girl who would be expecting me to trot out onto the court. But standing in front of me was a guy who was my own flesh and blood who needed my help. Uncle Press did a lot for me as I was grog up and asked for a single thing in return. Until . How could I turn him down? You to explain things to my coach, Mom and Dad, and Courtney Chetwynde? Uncle Press uy gave a sm smile, just like he used to, and said, They'll understand. I tried to think of any other reason why I shouldn't go with him, but came up empty. So with a sigh I said, right then, let's go. ly Uncle Press ed the front door. I shrugged and started out. You 't need that bag, he said, referring to my pack. I'm not sure why, but that sounded strange, and a touch ominous. What's this about Uncle Press? If he had answered the question truthfully, I would have run upstairs to my room and hid under the bed. But he didn't. he said was, You'll find out. He was my uncle. I trusted the guy. So I let my pack f to the floor and headed for the door. Uncle Press didn't follow right away. I looked back and saw that he was looking around the house. Maybe I imagined this, but he seemed a little sad, as if this was the last time he was going to be . After a few seconds he said, You love this place, don't you? And your family? Well…yeah. Of course, I answered. What a dumb question. He took one more wistful look around, then turned to face me. The sad look was gone. In its place was the determined look of a guy who had business elsew. Let's go, he said. He walked past me and headed down the front walk to the street. Uncle Press always dressed the same way, in jeans, boots, and a dark brown work shirt. Over this he wore a long, tan, leather coat that reached down to his knees. It flapped in the d as he walked. I'd seen that look many times before, but for some reason, this time it gave him the air of someone for whom time has stood still. In another time and place he could have been a dusty cowboy striding into town, or a military emissary carrying vital documents. Uncle Press was indeed a unique charer. Parked in front of my house was the sweetest looking motorcycle I ever saw. It looked like one of those multicolored Matchbox racers that I had played with not too long ago. But this bike was very big and very real. Uncle Press always did things in style. He grabbed the helmet from the seat and tossed it to me. I buckled up and he did the same. He then gunned the engine and I was surprised to hear that it wasn't very loud. I was expecting some growling, gut-churning hog sound. But this bike was almost quiet. It sounded like, well, a rocket that's about to ignite. I hopped on the seat behind him and he glanced back to me. Ready? he asked. No, I replied honestly. Good. I'd if you were, he shot back. He then kicked the bike into gear, hit the gas, and the two of us flew down the quiet, suburban street that had been my for fourteen years. Fourteen-year-old Bobby Pendragon is not like the other boys his age. His uncle Press is a Traveler, and, as Bobby has learned, that means Uncle Press is responsible, through his journeys, for solving interdimensional conflict wver he encounters it. His mission is nothing less than to the universe from ultimate evil. And he's taking Bobby along for the ride. Fresh from his first adventure on Denduron, Bobby finds himself in the territory of Cloral, a vast world that is entirely covered by water. Cloral is nearing a disaster of huge proportions. Reading the journals Bobby sends , his s learn that the desperate citizens of the endangered floating cities are on the brink of war. Can Bobby — suburban basketb star and -around nice guy — help rid the area of marauders, and locate the legendary lost land of Faar, which may hold the key to Cloral's survival? Book Excerpt Journal #5: Cloral Hi, guys. I gotta apologize for taking so long to write. So much has happened since I left you two, Mark and Courtney. I'm not rey sure w to begin. First , one mystery is solved. Remember the giant shark that nearly ate me down in that mine shaft on Denduron? Well, I k w it came from. The territory I'm on is ced Cloral and it's entirely underwater. No kidding. Underwater. The quigs on Cloral are giant, flesh-eating sharks. Nice, huh? let me tell you about some of the trouble I've been ting into. I was almost eaten, again; I came dangerously c to drowning; my arms were nearly yanked out of their sockets; and I think I cracked a couple of ribs — in the first hour after I got . Sounds like a fun place, no? I'm writing this journal because things have finy calmed down and I need the rest. I think it's best to start my story at the point when I last saw you two. Man, that already seems like years ago. Time sure flies when you're out of your mind. I still have tons of questions about what's happened to my , but two jump to the top of the list. Why is it that I, Bobby Pendragon, have been chosen to become a Traveler? I don't think that's a lot to ask since I've had to risk my butt about a thousand times over while performing my Traveler duties. The second is that I want to k what happened to my family. I keep asking Uncle Press these questions, but ting info out of him is like squeezing blood from a turnip. (Not that I've ever tried squeezing a turnip, but it seems like a tough thing to do.) He keeps saying, It will come clear with time. . Meanwhile, we keep jumping from one disaster to the next, and I can hope for is that I'll stay alive long enough to figure out why the heck I'm in the middle of this when I rey want to do is go and hide under my bed with the dog. C'mon! I'm fourteen! Is that too much to ask? I guess it is, seeing as my isn't t anymore. The last time I saw you two, you were standing in front of the empty lot w my house used to be. It's hard to describe the emotions that were banging around inside me back then. I was nervous about going on another adventure with Uncle Press and bummed to be leaving you two guys, again. But the worst part was the fear of the unkn. Uncle Press d me I would see my family again. Mom, Dad, Shannon, and even my golden retriever, Marley. But he ped short of telling me w they had gone. He told me that they had raised me and prepared me for the moment when I would to become a Traveler, but he didn't tell me why. Was it planned from the moment I was born? Was my family part of some secret plot? He also told me that he wasn't my real uncle. Meaning, a blood relative. But he hadn't yet answered the single most important question: Why? Why are t Travelers who blast through time and space, helping the territories through dangerous times? Who chooses them? Most important, why me? To be honest, I've ped asking these questions because his answers are always so freaking elliptical. It's like he's some kind of Jedi master who drips out information on a needto- k basis. Well, I need to k bad. But I guess I'll have to be patient and learn as I go along. I think Uncle Press is afraid if he lays it out for me in one shot, the truth will make my head explode and I'll end up lying in a corner someplace, drooling. He's probably right. When I said good-bye to you two, I got into the car with Uncle Press and Loor, my partner from the adventure on Denduron. I was leaving my two best s to take with my and partner. At least I considered Loor a . We had been through hell toher on Denduron and even though I wasn't the warrior she was, I think I had earned her respect. At least I'd hoped I had. I squeezed into the back compartment behind the two seats of the Porsche without being asked. Obviously Uncle Press was going to drive, and since Loor was bigger than me, t was no way she could fit in the back. She may have been dressed like she belonged on Second Earth, but she looked like no classmate I'd ever seen. I'm guessing she was around sixteen, but with her zero-body-fat, muscular bod, she looked ready for the Olympic decathlon. Her cocoa-dark skin made her look as if she were African, but I k the truth. She was a warrior from the territory of Zadaa, which exists in an entirely different time and place from . I think one of the first requirements for the Olympics is that you have to be from Earth. She didn't qualify. Comfy? asked Uncle Press. Not even c, I answered. With a laugh, Uncle Press hit the gas and once again we screamed away from my town of Stony Brook, Connecticut. I didn't even ask him w we were headed, because I k. We were going back to the abandoned subway station in the Bronx to find the gate that led to the flume that would take us…somew. The last time we traveled this route I was on the back of Press's motorcycle, with no clue of what lay ahead. This time I had a clue, but not much more. We blasted along the turnpike, out of Connecticut, headed for York City. Within half an hour we had gone from the leafy-green suburbs of Stony Brook, to the concrete pavement of the borough of York ced the Bronx. It's the of Yankee Stadium, the Bronx Zoo, the York Botanical Garden, and a secret Traveler flume into the unkn. As Uncle Press maneuvered the quick little sports car through the city streets, people turned to stare. This was a rough neighborhood. They weren't used to seeing a sleek sports car screaming through their 'hood. Or maybe they were staring in der at the guy riding in back who was turning blue because his knees were jammed into his throat. That would be me. With a final spin of the wheel, Uncle Press brought us right up to the curb next to the sm green kiosk that was our destination. As I looked at that little building and the peeled paint on the sign above it that said SUBWAY, one thought came to mind. we go again. I hadn't expected to see this place again so . No, I had expected to see this place again. Uncle Press and I had come through this way a few hours before, having returned from Denduron. My plan was to back , and do my level best to for about this whole Traveler business. But things changed. I discovered that my family was gone, along with the I k. I think Uncle Press brought me back to Stony Brook to see for myself. It was a smart move, because if he hadn't, I would have believed it. I would always be thinking about how to . But t was no to back to anymore. The cold, hard reality hit me that my destiny was to go with Uncle Press and learn more about being a Traveler. What a difference a few hours can make. So t we were again, back in the Bronx, on the verge of starting my . I wanted to cry. Yes, I admit it. I wanted to cry. If Loor wasn't t, I probably would have. Uncle Press hopped out of the car first, leaving the keys in the ignition. Loor and I crawled out after him. uy, I did most of the crawling. I was so mashed up in the backseat that my legs were toty asleep, and when I tried to stand, I fell over. Loor caught me and held me up until I got the feeling back. How embarrassing is that? Uncle Press didn't to see if I was okay. He headed right for the stairs that led down into the subway. Uh, Uncle Press? I ced. You sure you want to the car ? I remembered back to our first trip . We had left the motorcycle and the helmets right w the Porsche was . I thought for sure that somebody would pinch them, but when we returned that morning, the bike was right w we had left it. The helmets were t too. . Pure luck. But this was rey pushing it. A hot sports car sitting alone with the keys in the ignition was too tempting a . Worse, it was in a no-parking zone. If thieves didn't the car, the cops would tow it for sure. Uncle Press said, It's okay. The acolytes will take care of it. Huh? Acolytes? That was a wrinkle. I looked at Loor to see if she k what he was talking about. She shrugged. Before I could ask any more, Uncle Press disappeared down into the subway. I said to Loor, Yeah, I k — we'll learn more as we go along. Don't ask so many questions, Pendragon, she said. them for when it is truly important. She then followed Uncle Press. Truly important? Wasn't this bizarro stuff truly important? I wanted to k! But since I was standing alone and feeling dumb out by myself, the thing I could do was follow. I was ting good at that. I hurried down the dirty stairs and squeezed through the ing in the wooden boards that were nailed across the entrance. To the rest of the world this was a cd and abandoned subway station that had outlived its usefulness. To us Travelers, it was the crossroads of Second Earth, my territory, and our jumping- point to the other distant territories. Sounds romantic, doesn't it? Well, it isn't. It's scary. The filthy subway station was too familiar to me. Subway trains still flew by, but it had been a long time since any had ped at this forlorn spot. When I hit the platform, I saw something that brought back a chilling memory. It was the pillar that Uncle Press had behind during his gun battle with Saint Dane. It was a battle that had given me the time to escape and find the gate and the flume that sent me to Denduron. Saint Dane. T's a guy I'd like to for. Uncle Press says he's a Traveler, like us. But he isn't exly like us because the guy is wicked. On Denduron he pushed two rival tribes to the brink of annihilation. But we stepped in and messed things up for him. Unfortunately Denduron was the beginning. Saint Dane d to wreak havoc with the territories in his quest to rule Ha. That's key. He wants to rule Ha. , I'm no genius, but since Uncle Press described Ha as every territory, every person, every living thing, every time t ever was, then having a guy like Saint Dane be the ruler is not a very good idea. What made it so incredibly creepy was that Saint Dane enjoyed seeing people suffer. I saw that firsthand, too many times. This abandoned subway platform was the first. This was w he hypnotized a less guy into jumping to a gruesome death in front of a speeding subway train. It was a coldblooded trick that Saint Dane said was to give the boy a taste of what was in store for him. The boy he referred to was me. Nice guy, huh? I told you before that the worst part about my as a Traveler was the fear of the unkn. Well, that's not entirely true. Right up t on my list of fears is king that somew, sometime, we would cross paths with Saint Dane again. The guy was worse than dangerous, and it was our job to him. Standing t on that platform, I was rey wanting a different job. Pendragon! ced Loor. I followed her voice to the end of the platform. I k this route. We had to climb down onto the subway tracks, carefully ting fried by the third rail, and make our way along the grimy, oil-stained w until we came upon a wooden door. On this door would be a symbol that looked like a carved star identifying it as a gate. That was our destination. With Uncle Press in the lead, we moved quickly along the tracks. We had to hurry because a subway train could come charging along at any moment. T wasn't much room between the tracks and the w and a train speeding past our noses would be hurt. As we got cr to the door, I noticed that the ring on my finger began to grow warm. I looked at it and saw that the slate gray stone was beginning to transform. The dark gray color began to melt away and the stone sparkled. This was the sign that we were ting near a gate. It was how many things I was taking for granted. Once upon a time, the idea of follog a possessed, glog ring to a mysterious door in an abandoned subway station would seem like an -the-w dream. Not anymore. it felt natural. Sort of. Uncle Press found the door, ed it, and hurried us inside. The cave inside hadn't changed. I glanced into the dark tunnel that led into the unkn. This was the flume that would sparkle to and take us…somew. Right it was quiet, waiting for us to tell it w we were going. I'd traveled through the flume between Second Earth and Denduron. I had to believe that this time we were going someplace else, and was the time for Uncle Press to tell us w. Loor and I stood toher, waiting for him to show us the way. We're going to split up, he said. Whoa. Not a good start. Was he crazy? We shouldn't be broken apart! Uncle Press k his way around the cosmos and Loor was a fierce warrior. The idea of fluming to face Saint Dane by myself without any backup was not something I could psyched up about. A thoughts and possi- bilities flashed through my brain — of them bad. But just as I was about to break into full panic mode, Loor spoke. Why? she asked flatly. Nothing like keeping it simple. She was good to have around. Since your mother died, you are the Traveler from Zadaa, he answered. They'll need you t . I want you to go and be ready. What about me? I asked, flying into protest mode. You and I are going to Cloral, was his answer. Saint Dane went t for a reason and I want to k what it is. Good s, bad s. Good s was Uncle Press and I were staying toher. Bad s was we were going after Saint Dane. Rey bad s. But if I'm the Traveler from Second Earth, shouldn't I stay ? I asked hopefully. You k, to take care of stuff? Uncle Press gave me a smile. He k I was trying to weasel out. No, it's best you come with me, was his simple answer. Oh well. I wasn't sursed that my lame attempt at ting out of this trip had failed miserably. But hey, it was worth a shot, right? Loor then stepped up to me and said, If you need me, I will be t , Pendragon. Wow, that blew me away. I guess I had earned her respect after . I nodded and said, I'll be t , too. We held eye cont for a moment. The bond the two of us had created during the war on Denduron was stronger than I realized. I felt safer with her around, but it was more than that. I liked Loor. In spite of her inability to give an inch on anything, Loor's heart was always in the right place. I didn't want to go on without her. And I rey believe that if she'd had the choice, she'd have stayed with me. But before I could say another word, she turned and strode into the mouth of the flume. She stared into the dark abyss, took a deep breath, and ced out, Zadaa! ly the tunnel started to breathe. The rocky ws began to writhe like a giant snake slowly coming to . Then t was the familiar sound — the jumble of sweet musical notes that came from somew deep in the tunnel and grew louder as they rushed toward us. The ws transformed from gray stone into brilliant crystine gems, just as my ring had as we approached the gate. The light that shone from the tunnel was so bright that I needed to shield my eyes. Loor became nothing more than a dark silhouette standing before the brilliant display. She gave one last look back to us and waved good-bye. Then, in a flash of light, she was swept into the tunnel. The retreating light and music carried her away and back to her , the territory of Zadaa. In an the show was over and the tunnel returned to darkness. Your turn, said Uncle Press. Tell me about Cloral, I asked, sting for time. As much as I k a trip through the flume was kind of fun, I was nervous about what I'd find on the other end. I needed a few seconds to my toher. You'll find out you need to k once you t, he answered as he nudged me cr to the mouth of the flume. Don't worry, I'll be right behind you. Why don't you ever give me a straight answer? I asked. I thought you liked surprises? he answered with a laugh. Not anymore I don't! I shouted back. Uncle Press used to surprise me the time with birthday gifts and helicopter rides and camping trips and — basicy the coolio things a kid could ever want from an uncle. But lately Uncle Press's surprises weren't as fun as they used to be. Especiy since they mostly involved me being chased by hungry beasts or shot at or blown up or buried alive or…you the idea. C'mon, you're no fun anymore, he teased as he pushed me into the flume. Cloral! he shouted, and stepped out as the tunnel sprang back to . I didn't even look into the depths because I k what was coming. Fun? I shouted. If you think this is fun, you're crazy! Oh, one thing, Bobby, he said. What? Remember the Cannonb. What 'cannonb'? I asked. What's that supposed to mean? The light grew brighter and the musical notes grew louder. I was seconds away from launch. Just before you drop into Cloral, hold your breath. What! The last thing I saw was Uncle Press laughing. Then the light grabbed me and sucked me into the tunnel. I was on my way. |
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