Crossing the beach was a beast; there was a rock formation off to his left and he ran for it from the water, still dripping wet. Even as he ran, he could hear the dull smack of bullets hitting the sand only distantly as the world seemed to grow more detached in his vision; it was like watching someone else's TV show rather than an experience of his own life. 

He landed in the sand, behind a rock outcropping with a sense of complete shock that he was still alive, not even worrying that he was coated in sandy mud. He was safe behind cover for a moment as the gunfire ripped through the air. Someone was waving at him, but he wasn't too keen to pop his head up -- especially when a helicopter screamed overhead, and horns from the road nearby started to honk loudly. It look like he'd found himself near enough to the hotels that he was in civilization...

...and then there was an explosion, a loud rumbling punctuated by an actual boom that rattled the place, and smoke all over -- foul-smelling, a mixture of whatever building materials were burning that clung to the nostrils stubbornly.

It wasn't like the whole place went up, but an exploding restaurant was more than enough to start a panic all over the place, people screaming into the street and the local security types trying to direct an evacuation primarily by shouting in English, though heavily accented. Brian was tempted to join, because the gunfire stopped in his direction, but a thought stopped him -- they were going for groups. They were shooting tourists. 

He sucked in air to his lungs, shaking from the adrenalin, and tensed up to sprint for the gift shop. It seemed like good cover. 

It was a bit of an effort to weave in between panicking people, but he used his innate athleticism to squeeze past people, until he felt himself bracing against a store counter, breathing heavily. The fear was sucking the air right out of his lungs.