Designed : A Young Adult Dystopian Romance

We all met up again on the sidewalk in front of the restaurant.

“What now?” I said.

“I asked the waitress if there were any good hiking and camping outfitters nearby. She told me about one down the street on the next block. She said the owner has lived here for decades and used to be a wilderness guide in the national park. I think we should stop by and talk to her before we catch a trolley into the park.”

“Sounds perfect. Let’s go check it out.”

We found the outfitters shop a couple blocks down the main street. The woman working behind the counter looked up and smiled as we entered.

“Welcome. I’m April. Feel free to look around and let me know if I can help you find anything.”

Heath walked right up to her. “Actually, April, I hope you can. We’re here to explore the park, and we’re going to need some backpacks, sleeping bags and other backcountry camping gear, sunscreen, food—oh, and some hiking boots.”

Her eyes got progressively wider as Heath’s list lengthened. By the time he finished, there were practically dollar signs swimming in them.

“For all of you?” she asked.

He gave her a dazzling grin. “Yep—we need the works.”

“Oh my.” She hurried from behind the counter. “Well, I’ll be happy to help you. We’ll start with the boots. Let’s see… you look like about a size thirteen, am I right?”

“Exactly,” he said.

“And a six and a half for you?” she asked me.

“A seven—I think.”

Her eyes strayed to Daniel. “I haven’t seen a child in so long, I almost forgot what they look like.” She turned to Heath. “Is he a—?”

He cut her off before she could complete the word. “Of course. Do you have any children’s boots?”

She blinked a few times. “I’m afraid not. But I think my smallest women’s size should do for him—especially if we add a nice, thick pair of socks.”

“I don’t want girl boots,” Daniel protested.

“Wait till you see them,” she told him with a wink. “No one will be able to tell the difference. They all look pretty much the same—they’re built for comfort and utility—not style.”

She hurried through a doorway to what I assumed was a stock room. When she returned only minutes later, she was balancing at least six shoe boxes. I stepped forward to take a couple of them and relieve her load.

“Thank you, honey.”

She motioned for Daniel to sit in a chair placed in front of the shop’s back wall, which was covered in hiking and camping paraphernalia of every imaginable shape, size, and color.

“Okay now, let’s see if these will fit you. Here, put these on first.”

She grinned, watching the boy pull on the sturdy socks. Glancing up at Heath, she wrinkled her nose in amusement.

“Looks like you.”

He nodded. “Like my father actually but thank you for the compliment.”

He placed a hand on Daniel’s head and smiled down at him.

“I see. Okay, kiddo, got that on nice and snug? Alrighty, let’s slide your foot in here.”

She guided his foot into a rugged brown leather boot then fitted the other foot. When both boots were laced and tied, Daniel walked around the store, up one aisle and down the other.

“They feel good,” he announced, as if surprised.

Heath and I each took a turn being fitted, and then the shopkeeper helped us gather the remainder of our necessities, loading the items into our new backpacks as she scanned them.

“First time visiting Shenandoah?” she asked.

“Yes,” I said. “I’m looking forward to seeing the waterfalls.”

“Oh, there’s plenty of ‘em. And you got a good day for it—no rain in the forecast. We’ve had so much of it lately, some of the roads washed out. You can’t get to the highest elevations except for on foot, but the lower elevations should be perfect for exploring. Won’t be much of a crowd, either. Never is now that we don’t get the young families anymore. You’re the first I’ve seen in ages.”

Her perception of us as a family sent a pleasurable sensation skipping through my chest.

We weren’t, of course, but the thought of it pleased me for some reason. I checked Heath’s face for his reaction, but if he’d noticed her comment, he didn’t let on. He was all business.

“I’m interested in the history of the park,” Heath told April. “Do you know if any of the historic hunters’ and trappers’ cabins are still around? Or the old loggers’ camps?”

“Some are, I’m sure. Most of them have probably been torn down or fell down on their own, but there are bound to be a few still standing. I’ve got a map around here somewhere…”

She turned to dig through a rack of maps and guidebooks.

“Here it is. This one shows where the earliest visitor accommodations were—you know the ones they built for the CCC and such. And I think it should have some information on the old logging camps.”

“What’s the CCC?” I asked.

“The Civilian Conservation Corps. They built all the roads and bridges and retaining walls throughout the park back in the 1930’s and forties. There were at least a dozen camps built to house the workers.”

“Interesting.” Heath took the map from her. “We’ll take this, too.”

The shopkeeper smiled and scanned that as well then rang up the total. I had to stifle a gasp at the amount, but it didn’t seem to faze Heath. He paid it and wished the woman a good day.

“I’ve already had one thanks to y’all,” she said. “You have a good day, too. And happy exploring, Stay safe.”

We left the store, and Daniel ran ahead of us, testing out his new boots, stopping and looking into each shop window he passed until we caught up.

The next time he ran ahead, I asked the question that had been on my mind since I’d learned Daniel was a Gebby.

“She was right, you know. He does look like you. But you said he looked like your dad, so I assume you do, too. Why is that? I thought the Gebbies’ DNA was manufactured. Was he designed to look like your family?”

Heath nodded and waited to answer as we caught up to Daniel.

When the boy darted ahead again, he said, “Gebbies are manufactured. But they’re also biological. My father’s DNA was used to create Daniel. He’s not exactly a clone—as you might have learned in school, Gideon has never been able to get human clones past the point of a vegetative state. They’ve never achieved consciousness. But the genetic engineers found that when they combined the organic and synthetic to create hybrid biological organisms—Gebbies—they solved the failure-to-thrive problem and at the same time created beings who were, in many ways, better than natural-born humans could ever be.”

“Better how? Like superhumans?”

A picture of the inhumanly beautiful Gebby prostitutes shimmered to life in my mind.

“Not necessarily,” he said. “It depends on how their genes were altered and for what purpose. Sure, some are programmed to be stronger, bigger with better muscle tone and endurance. Some have higher intellect or more advanced specialized skills but a completely average body physically. The sky’s the limit really—any quality can be programmed or altered. In Daniel’s case, his genes weren’t altered—my dad wanted him to be a ‘faithful reproduction’ of himself.”

He rolled his eyes.

“Wow. So then when Daniel grows up, he’ll be exactly like your father?”

“God, I hope not.”

My head jerked in response to his vehement answer. “You guys really don’t get along, huh?”

He chuckled. “He’s not all bad. I just want… I want Daniel to grow up to be his own person.”

“The same thing you want for yourself,” I said.

His lips quirked in amusement. “Why do you say that?”

“It’s obvious. You’re working at Gideon because your dad does, but you’d rather be doing your own thing. You want Daniel to have the freedom you don’t.”

He grinned and shook his head. “What am I going to do with you?”

“Help me get to the Haven, hopefully.”

A colorful trolley stopped up ahead, near Daniel. It had wheels like a bus but was painted to resemble an old-fashioned train car with arched windows, a green roof, and a mural of black bears cavorting in the mountains on its side panel.

Heath took my hand. “Let’s try to catch this one. The waitress said the tan line is the route that goes through the park.”

We jogged toward Daniel and then up to the trolley doors, which opened for us. Heath paid the fare, and we took our seats, studying the route map while Daniel gazed at the passing sights.

“Will this take us near any of the old cabins?” I asked.

“Near enough. If the owner of that outfitters shop was right, one location shouldn’t be too far from the Rose River Falls trail. We can hike from there.”

It took the trolley about half an hour to reach the park entrance from Charlottesville. Skyline Drive, which went all the way through the massive park, was punctuated by breathtaking mountain views.

The temperature dropped steadily the higher we went on the twisty, turning road, and the breeze coming through the open windows raise chill bumps on my skin. I drew my new red fleece quarter-zip top from my backpack and pulled it on.

When my head popped through the neck opening, Heath was smiling down at me from where he sat beside me.

“That color looks good on you.”

Warmth rushed to my cheeks, and I mumbled my thanks while returning my gaze to the passing trees and mountainside.

After making stops at a few other trailheads, the trolley’s automated voice announced the stop for the Rose River Loop.

Heath reached forward and tapped Daniel’s shoulder. “Okay, buddy. This is our stop.”

We filed out of the trolley and headed toward the marked trailhead. I held the map up, trying to figure out our best route.

“If we take this trail all the way to the falls and then bushwhack our way east a bit, we should come upon the site—if there’s anything still there.”

Heath glanced at the map and concurred, and we set off.

“I hope it’s not too grown over,” he said. “I’m a little concerned that it can’t actually be this easy.”