Only a second ago, there was a wall here. Now there is the suggestion of a wall—which is to say, nothing. Bricks lay scattered across the street and as the dust settles a shadow appears in the hole where the wall used to be.
I am already running. Running back to safety, to the room where (for some reason) the Nemesis can’t find me. Running as fast as I possibly can and knowing it’s still not fast enough. Bracing for the fist in the back of my skull, or the tentacle to grab my leg and trip me up. It’s that nightmare where you run and run from something but can’t quite get away—except it’s no nightmare, and I am running through the streets of Raccoon City screaming.