On the Edge of Oblivion [Open]
Down in the city, Lyta Alexander stood with her arms gently folded across her chest staring at the unimposing structure in front of her: the clock house. It was a small shack, remarkable only in how it stood out in blatant contrast to the more magnificent buildings that surrounded it. Constructed of metal that was now rusting out, it was surprising--even for her now--that something so simple, so decrepit could be the source of so much trouble, of so much danger.
And, yet, it had been. And possibly would be again. Even without telepathy, Lyta could sense the tension that had descended over the crew in the time since Tony had returned infested with the last remaining Yeerk. Since then, she could feel something festering below the surface, growing and just waiting for the right trigger.
Lyta didn't like it, not one bit. She, like most of the crew, had assumed the Yeerks and the threat they had posed were gone, that it was all over. But, like the clock house that had once hidden them, they were still there.
And, yet, it had been. And possibly would be again. Even without telepathy, Lyta could sense the tension that had descended over the crew in the time since Tony had returned infested with the last remaining Yeerk. Since then, she could feel something festering below the surface, growing and just waiting for the right trigger.
Lyta didn't like it, not one bit. She, like most of the crew, had assumed the Yeerks and the threat they had posed were gone, that it was all over. But, like the clock house that had once hidden them, they were still there.