Chapter Four
The puking and the pain gradually began to wear away throughout the evening, and by the next morning Ed was working again. He was back to his normal, stressful daily routine; running throughout Central and its surrounding areas gathering information whichever ways he could. He made it home that night feeling overly-exhausted, just anxious to get in bed and sleep until morning came along. He slammed the living room door open, literally stumbling through the doorway and grasping the side of the couch.
"Brother!" Al exclaimed, rushing into the room to see what was wrong.
Ed released a breath and looked up at the sixteen year old, "Hi," he replied, slowly straightening himself up.
"You don't look too good, Ed. Maybe it was too soon to go back to work."
"No, it's just exhaustion."
"It's stress!" Al insisted, "And a suppressed immune system won't do you any good if you're fighting off what's left of that flu, so get in bed."
"Sounds good to me." Ed calmly replied. "Just give me a minute, and I-"he broke his sentence with a startled gasp, pain shooting through his head and his stomach.
"Ed!?"
Ed couldn't say anything back. He let out a labored breath, followed by something between a moan and a shrill gasp as he leaned forward, squeezing his eyes shut in pain and placing a hand over his stomach. He loudly took in another breath, sinking to his knees. "Al, my stomach…" he panted, unable to do anything else.
"I'm calling an ambulance." The younger boy stated, grabbing a phone and dialing 911. "You'll be okay, brother."