Spiral (Tunnels: Book 5)

Boom.
Apart from the noise and the gut-wrenching fear of physical injury, the most terrifying thing about an explosion is the millisecond in which the whole world fractures. It’s as though the very fabric of time and space has been split asunder, and you’re falling through it with no idea what lies on the other side.
When Colonel Bismarck came to, he was spreadeagled on a marble floor. For a moment he was unable to move, as if his body forbade it. As if it knew better than he did.
Although there was utter silence, the Colonel didn’t question it. He felt no alarm, no urgency. He was staring up at the shattered ceiling where snowy chunks of plaster rocked gently.
He became captivated by their movement – backwards and forwards, forwards and backwards – as if they were caught in a breeze. He was even more bewitched by the spectacle as some of the pieces broke loose, falling in slow motion to the floor around him.
His hearing began to return.