Fortis

Fortis | Quattuor

            My head lolled to the side, hitting the truck’s window and efficiently waking me from my sleep. As a dull pulsating arose from my skull, I let out a long, annoyed groan. But when a deep snicker came from my left, one of my eyes peeped open.

Fortis had driven through the night since we left my house, stopping only to fill up the gas tank and empty his bladder. His jet black hair hung over his brows, dark circles underlining his icy eyes. His natural tanned skin looked slightly paler, probably due to the lack of sleep he’s received.

My eye scanned over his sharp cheekbones and defined jawline, and I grumbled, “Did you laugh at me?”

“Yeah,” he replied honestly, the corner of his lips twitching.

Grunting at him, my limbs stretched out, slight popping sounds coming from my joints. The radio softly played some indie song that mixed with the sound of the truck’s engine. Looking out the fogged window, my hand swiped over the condensation to see snow covered rocks. It took a matter of seconds for my brain to connect that the enormous rocks were mountains.

“Woah,” I whispered, turning my vision to the windshield, which had its wipers on to push the falling snow to the side. We drove down an empty two-side road wedged between two mountains. “I’ve never seen mountains before.”

“Neither have I,” Fortis said quietly.

“They’re so beautiful,” I mumbled to myself, my eyes drinking in the gorgeous view. I had always wanted to see mountains in person. “Where are we?”

“If I read that sign correct an hour ago, we’re in West Virginia.”

“West Virginia,” I echoed. Pulling my legs to my chest, my chin rested against my kneecaps. My cold toes curled inside my socks on top the truck’s worn leather seats. I watched the scenery pass us. Fog rolling down the tall peaks, snow covering everything in its path, the truck’s tires leaving its mark on the road behind us.

            Fortis slowed the truck down at the traffic light that was strung between two electrical lines, the top light glowing a bright red. Luckily, it had stopped snowing. As the truck rumbled, I cleared off the fog from the window to see a sign reading, “Tommy’s Diner.”

At the thought of glorious, delicious food, my stomach growled loudly. My hand covered my empty stomach, and I looked over at the displayed time on the dashboard. It showed eleven a.m.

Turning to Fortis, he held up a hand, halting the words that were on the tip of my tongue. He nodded. “Yeah, I know. You’re hungry. We’re gonna stop to get something to eat.”

Once the light changed, he put on his blinker and pulled into a parking space at the diner. Turning the key and pulling it out of the ignition, Fortis swung his door opened and I followed him suit.

But once my feet made contact with the ground, my senses worked into overdrive. I could suddenly hear the car that was a mile down the road or the bird on the other side of the street pecking at the ground. My nose could pick up the scent of gas from the gas station and the rain that formed in the dark clouds above us. My fingertips could feel the water particles hanging in the damp air, but I wasn’t cold standing in my long sleeved shirt. I could make out small details, tiny print that was at the bottom of the poster hanging in a store’s window and the snow melting into the cracks of the bark from trees.

I was looking all around me when Fortis grabbed my upper arm. His hand was warm and large, wrapping about my limb. Looking over at him, my face twisted into confusion.