Free From the Corner of His Eye by Dean Koontz

trigger a cataclysmic blast that would shatter the very foundation of the universe.
    Joey was in his Worry Bear mode, brows furrowed, eyes pinched at the corners.
    Agnes wanted to reach out and touch him, but she found that she didn’t have the strength to raise her arm. She was no longer holding her belly, either. Both hands lay at her sides, palms up, and even the simple act of curling her fingers required surprising effort and concentration.
    When she tried to speak to him, she could no more easily raise her voice than she could extend a hand to him.
    A policeman scrambled into the back of the van.
    As the paramedic shoved the gurney across the step-notched bumper, its collapsible legs scissored down. Agnes was rolled headfirst into the ambulance.
    Click-click
. The wheeled stretcher locked in place.
    Either operating on first-aid knowledge of his own or responding to an instruction from the medic, the cop slipped a foam pillow under Agnes’s head.
    Without the pillow, she wouldn’t have been able to lift her head to look toward the back of the ambulance.
    Joey was standing just outside, gazing in at her. His blue eyes were seas where sorrow sailed.
    Or perhaps the sorrow was less sadness than yearning. He had to move on, but he was loath to begin this strange journey without her.
    As the storm failed to dampen Joey, so the rotating red-and-white beacons on the surrounding police vehicles did not touch him. The falling raindrops were diamonds and then rubies, diamonds and then rubies, but Joey was not illuminated by the light of this world. Agnes realized that he was translucent, his skin like fine milk glass through which shone a light from Elsewhere.
    The paramedic pulled shut the door, leaving Joey outside in the night, in the storm, in the wind between worlds.
    With a jolt, the ambulance shifted gears, and they were rolling.
    Great hobnailed wheels of pain turned through Agnes, driving her into darkness for a moment.
    When pale light came to her eyes again, she heard the paramedic and the cop talking anxiously as they worked on her, but she couldn’t understand their words. They seemed to be speaking not just a foreign tongue but an ancient language unheard on earth for a thousand years.
    Embarrassment flushed her when she realized that the paramedic had cut away the pants of her jogging suit. She was naked from the waist down.
    Into her fevered mind came an image of a milk-glass infant, as translucent as Joey at the back door of the ambulance. Fearing that this vision meant her child would be stillborn, she said,
My baby,
but no sound escaped her.
    Pain again, but not a mere contraction. Such an excruciation. Unendurable. The hobnailed wheels ground through her once more, as though she were being broken on a medieval torture device.
    She could see the two men talking, their rain-wet faces serious and scarred with worry, but she was no longer able to hear their voices.
    In fact, she could hear nothing at all: not the shrieking siren, not the hum of the tires, not the click-tick-rattle of the equipment packed into the storage shelves and the cabinets to the right of her. She was as deaf as the dead.
    Instead of falling down, down into another brief darkness, as she expected, Agnes found herself drifting up. A frightening sense of weightlessness overcame her.
    She had never thought of herself as being
tied
to her body, as being knotted to bone and muscle, but now she felt tethers snapping. Suddenly she was buoyant, unrestrained, floating up from the padded stretcher, until she was looking down on her body from the ceiling of the ambulance.
    Acute terror suffused her, a humbling perception that she was a fragile construct, something less substantial than mist, small and weak and helpless. She was filled with the panicky apprehension that she would be diffused like the molecules of a scent, dispersed into such a vast volume of air that she would cease to exist.
    Her fear was fed, too, by the sight of the blood that