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Ed hadn't realized how badly the beams of this dilapidated warehouse had corroded. That changes things. Footsteps echo behind him—angry shouts bounce off of the crumbling walls. He has to figure this out and fast. Ed is not about to let another building fall with him still inside. He promised he'd come home safe. Ed won't start breaking promises now.
With a quick clap, Ed slams his hands to the ground to throw up a barrier just in time to miss more bullets meant for him. He takes off in a mad dash around stacks of wood and piles of steel in the direction he thinks he remembers seeing an emergency exit door. His vision's starting to blur and he's pretty sure there's still a bullet lodged in his arm, but he doesn't have time to deal with any of that right now.
The red light of the emergency door is a beacon just ahead and Ed slams into the bar. He doesn't stop to catch his breath—just keeps running as fast as his legs can carry him. He'll keep running until he makes it to a clinic where he can get patched up just enough to hop on the next train out.
And then he won't stop walking until he's home—until he's safe—until he's in Roy's arms again.