Evan MacMillan

Evan MacMillan

	Evan MacMillan was the ideal vision of masculinity and success. His clothes were simple yet formal, with the tie always the right color and length. Toned muscles were poorly hidden underneath his outfits, intimidating male negotiators and wooing the female. He had a long stride, carrying himself with pride, and his confidence was infectious. But the thing most important to him was his stern, firm handling of people. His employees knew fully well not to disobey orders, since his words were strong, but fair enough to strike them deeper than just an employer’s angry ranting.

	He carried this air with him as he passed by the mine on the way to his father’s mansion. The workers knew this routine well, since he visited his father every chance he could. He had good reason to; time was running out for Archie MacMillan; he was not the savvy young business man he used to be. Evan felt a growing urge to honor his father’s memory after death, and talking to him now allowed him a glimpse at what his father envisions.

	There was a shuffle of boots as a soot-faced miner in his mid-40s waved down his boss, wiping his face with an even dirtier rag. His blackened cheeks were permanently pinned upward due to his mouth always shaped in a guilty looking grimace, but it added to his overall appeal. He gave a flap of his hand in the direction of his employer, beckoning him.

	“Mr. MacMillan!”

	Evan caught sight of the longtime foreman, Eugene. With a crisp clap of his hands, he welcomed his worker.

	“You know I said to call me Evan,” Archie’s son said with little genuineness. “How well have you been doing?” He stood ramrod straight, demanding respect as an admiral of the fleet would.

	Eugene knew that he did not mean HIS wellbeing, but the wellbeing of the mine. “Good as always, Mr. MacMillan. There’s about a 5% decrease these past weeks but we just hit a deposit today that should bring her back up again.” He slipped his hands out his gloves, brushing off the bits of dirt that had worked its way in. “I actually meant to talk to you ‘bout somethin’ here, actually.”

	He coughed wildly for a few moments, hunching over and nearly retching, but MacMillan had barely noticed. He ignored it as he looked towards his destination distractedly.

	“I’m afraid I don’t have time to talk about the mine, I need to see my father.” Evan was growing agitated. The mine had not mattered to him in the past months, it was just a piece of routine that was falling apart as he devoted more time to family.

	Eugene gave one of his signature grimaces. “It’s not about the mine, it’s about the men. Do me a favor and sit down with me for a sec?” MacMillan figured it was not for any shock, but because Eugene’s lungs did not like him standing. He remained as stoic as ever as his subordinate delivered the news.

	“I hate to tell you this, but…” his face twisted further. “Another one died. Two actually. Martin and Emmett.”

	Expressions hardened. Mines had never been a safe place, and deaths were common enough to be expected as some point. Faulty machinery explodes, sections cave in, and men drop dead after coughing fits. The most superstitious believed in evil spirits; the others believed in the coal dust and bad conditions.

	“The drill faltered and the ceiling dropped fast. They didn’t feel a thing I don’t think, which is better than starvin’ underground.” Eugene searched MacMillan’s face for feeling. “What d’ya thinking of doin’?”

	Evan cleared his throat, unperturbed by the turn of events. “Be sure to notify their families and give them the proper consolatory check. I’m going to be busy with father, so I trust you to handle this.”

	The foreman shook his head. “I don’t mean that, I mean what are ya thinking of doing for everyone else?” He waved his hands wildly in the direction of the mine. “Safety, Mr. MacMillan. New machine models, reexamining the structure of the mine, closing off the old areas –“

	“If you want such procedures done you will have to fill out the proper forms,” Evan droned. “Then the proper manager will send you a response.” He was staring in the direction of his mansion, his mind there while his body stayed behind.

	Eugene gave him a cold hard stare.

	“You remember you had a drink with those men once?”

	“Highly unprofessional, though I’d never hold them to blame.”

	“What were their names?”

	“Their names will be remembered by everyone here.”

	“Emmett had an old man to care for too, Evan. But you don’t care, do you?”

	Eugene’s constant grimace was gone, and so was Evan’s distant stare. Miners heading into the mine stopped to watch the two hardiest men they know argue over the death of their friend. Dust covered the air like fog as they came to a stop.

	Evan bore into the eyes of his lesser, an intimidation tactic he’d used for years. His eyes were filled with an unrighteous anger, years of inherited responsibility bubbling up in those pupils of his. He didn’t blink; every single piece of him was too dedicated to Eugene to care about that. Eugene had never been so fearful in his life, not even in the deepest depths of the mine where all was dark and he was all alone.

	But he was one of the rare caring people in the world, who took the promotion to foreman not for money but to protect his men. He knew how to read the face of those weighed down by work and worry. Evan’s eyes were a little watery. Years of waiting for his beloved father’s death, and the stress of living up to what he believed was the perfect idol, was bearing down on him. He was being eaten away, day by day.

	Evan looked at Eugene with those eyes, and said to him:

	“Don’t ever say I don’t care. You son of a bitch.”

	His eyes were casted downward, and for a moment there was a wild glint in them, something unreadable, before they disappeared from Eugene’s line of sight. They rose once again, dry, and no less intimidating.

	“We will talk about your future at this company tomorrow… as well as possibly revised safety standards.”

	Eugene looked away and put on the grimace he had before. He was through, but at least he may have gotten something for the guys. “Yeah, boss. See you later.”

	Evan stood a little taller and shot a glare at everyone watching. He knew all of them just a little bit, enough to wonder which one might die in the mine next.

	“Get back to work.”

	He turned and continued towards the MacMillan estate, and everyone else headed into the mine.
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	If there was one thing that relaxed him, it was the woods.

	Years and years had passed since he went hunting in the woods with his father. Back in the 30s, when he was young and inexperienced in life, his dad would bring him out to look for bears. It was one of many bonding experiences that he was entitled to, being the oldest and undoubtedly favorite child of Archie. The old man showed him how to clean traps, how to set traps, how to kill something helpless. The bears were always skinned and eaten, and Evan felt a sense of pride during those special dinners. Archie showed his son that as jarring as death may be, it was necessary and the best thing to do for the bear was give it a reason to die.

	Evan wiped away a rogue tear on his cheek and smiled. Maybe he’ll go hunting in the woods sometime again.
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	The MacMillan firstborn could hear the state-of-the-art life support systems as they hissed and hummed like the old man they held hostage. As he opened the door, he couldn’t help but feel repulsed by the smell that assaulted him. Archie’s flesh was almost translucent with age, making him look like he’d already died and came back as a ghost. Strained veins squeezed against brittle bones and pumped blood, seemingly only to spite the world. His eyes were half-lidded but bugged out as the intruder entered his room. A spider in the corner worked on its web as Archie yelled out.

	“Who the fuck ish that?”

	Evan remained stoic despite no one being there to see him hurt. “It’s me, dad. It’s Ev.” He took a seat next to his old man’s death bed. “I came to visit you again.”

	“Oh… Evan,” his voice warbled precariously. “Come here, son…”

	Archie tried to lift his arms, but couldn’t. Evan pretended to lay his head on his father’s chest, but in reality, he did not want to put any weight and crush his dad’s chest, so he held it in the air inches above. Archie let out a groan of affection, something he had to settle for since talking means effort.

	“I’m already feeling tired, Ev.” He gazed ahead, unwilling to turn his head.

	Evan held his hand in pity. “I know, dad. We’re proud of how brave you are.” His words were said a thousand times by thousands of others worrying over their loved ones, but he did not care. His words were true. “Remember that time that one bear got loose during a hunt? Your gun jammed, so you fought it with a fountain pen, right there in front of me, and won. No one believes us since no man could be that brave, but you did it, and wrote the story with the same pen!” He laughed, hoping he could bring some joy to his father. “That was pretty brave, if you ask me.”

	Archie looked at his son with a fading expression, eyes fogging up like the mist outside. “Killed it?”

	Evan felt his heart sink. Today was going to be one of those days.

	“Yeah, it didn’t stand a chance.”

	“Kill that fucking spider over there, will you?” Archie was giving a death glare towards the corner of the room. “Keeps on spinning webs, shitting up the room. Smack it!”

	“Dad…” Evan gave his hands a very gentle squeeze. “That’s not important. Remember me? Evan?”

	His father looked at him with the same eyes as before, but with an angry glint. “Evan! There you are. What the hell are you doing here?”

	“I’m here to see you, dad.”

	Archie tried his hardest to lay a hand on his child but did not have the strength. “You should be studying. Who is going to take over the company when I’m gone?” Some drool dripped down. “Not your brother, he’s an idiot.”

	“Of course,” Evan lied. He adopted a counterfeit neutral expression. His father always takes too long to come out of these episodes. “I’ve been doing my best to prepare.

	“Good. If anyone deserves it, it’s you.” His brows furrowed. “Those stupid goddamn shareholders think they own the company. It’s my name on the damn thing!” As weak as he was, he still managed to shake with anger. It tired him, however, and he quickly sank further into his pillows. “I’m just so fucking tired, Ev.”

	Evan could not stand to see his father like this. But he couldn’t stand to not see him, either. Trips here always took it out of him emotionally, watching his dad lose his mind. Would mother do that next? A friend? Him? He could swear death was following him, waiting to strike whenever he was distracted. Each night grew more sleepless as he remembered the good times as well as the mountain of responsibilities headed his way. He wasn’t sure if he could stand it anymore.

	“I’m not sure if I can stay long, after all. I’ve got more… studying to do.” Evan’s shoulders sagged, feeling Atlas’ struggle. Talking to his father was fruitless, but he needed to or he’d go crazy. “Sometimes, dad… I worry about the things I have to do. The job, the employees…” The two that died that day flashed through his mind. “…sometimes I doubt I can live up to your name. You did everything so well. I wish you could tell me what to do.”

	Archie looked as if he had fallen asleep already, his chest barely rising or falling. A wizened old man far past his expiration date. Evan decided he would take his leave, and hoped his father would feel better next time. But when he stood to leave, an ancient hand shot out with unholy speed to clutch his arm. The ferocity of it startled Evan, and he looked at his father to see what was wrong.

	Archie looked alive again. His skin had a little more color, and he could see his heart bouncing against his chest. His eyes were watching Evan’s, with a panicked look seen only in people who are lost. He was showing what his son had been feeling for the past years.

	“Evan… you have to…” he wheezed and gasped for air.

	“What…” Evan stared back with the same look, then grabbed his father by the shoulders. “What!”

	“Do them a favor and just kill them. Don’t let them get away, it will hurt them more.”

	Archie’s breaths slowed down as he sank back into the bed, and was quiet.

	Evan immediately put his head against his dad’s chest, feeling the white hot pangs of fear that a child feels when they are separated from their parents. Nothing was heard; but then suddenly the small beating of the drum as Archie’s heart started beating again. Evan sank onto the floor and cried. His father was still alive.

	Archie died of a heart attack early the next morning, while Evan slept in the chair next to him. The spider finished its web as Evan set out for the mine to meet with the foreman, bear traps in tow.