Sunset: Survivors

Two Days Earlier

Stan Howard Las Vegas, NV October 3rd, 1991

I can’t believe this is happening, Stan thought. I have never been an overly lucky guy but this is ridiculous.

Stanley Eugene Howard was the senior programmer at a prestigious software company located in Northern Phoenix. He had driven up to Las Vegas the night before. It was a long drive but Stan found it very relaxing. He could not relax at work. His boss was an asshole and was always on Stan’s back. Stan could not possibly work any harder or any more hours than he already was. This vacation was a way to blow off some steam before returning to the rat race in a few days.

Now Stan stood at a crap table in one of the biggest casinos in Las Vegas. He had held the dice for almost an hour. Twelve passes in a row. He was up almost $22,000. He could not lose. No matter where he put his money, the number would come up. $50 hard four. Hit it. $100 crap. Hit it. $500 yo. Hit it. $1,500 on the pass line. Needs a six. Rolls a thirty-three. The money was just pouring in.

Everyone at the table was going crazy. Finally, Stan was THE MAN! Women were actually talking to him. Touching his arm and asking his name. Why couldn’t my parents have given me a more manly name, Stan thought? Something like Nick or Joe. Those were manly names. Those were names of men who took action. Those were names of men who got things done. Men who didn’t take shit from anyone. Especially from programming managers.

Stan bought a round of drinks for the table. Every one cheered. Stan dreamed of being the big shot but had never lived it like this. The dice felt cool in his hand. The green felted table seemed to stretch out for a mile. The women were more beautiful than they had been an hour ago. His Pina Colada tasted better than it had five minutes ago. Everything was perfect.

With every win the pit boss glared at him. Stan didn’t care. He wasn’t cheating. In fact he had never won at craps in his life. He had just learned how to play a few months ago. Bill Felton, another programmer on his team invited him to tag along on a bachelor party. Bill taught Stan the basics of craps and that was all she wrote. Stan was hooked.

The stick man shoved the dice in Stan’s direction. “Dice out!” he hollered. Stan picked them up and asked the blonde to his left to blow on them for luck. The blonde obliged and winked at Stan. Stan turned the dice over and over in his right hand. The cubes felt smooth and perfect on the tips of his fingers. Stan wanted to savor this moment as long as he could. He drew back his arm and sent the dice spinning to the far end of the table. The dice seemed to tumble in slow motion. The ladies were screaming. The men were howling. Stan was having the time of his life. “One more time!”, Stan screamed. The dice concluded their journey.

“Thirty four!” yelled the stick man.

Another winner. Stan raised his hands in triumph. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes and let out a jubilant scream that shook the sparkling chandeliers. He stood basking in the moment, head thrust back, arms raised and gazing at the beautiful mural on the ceiling. Stan was on top of the world.

Silence.
Silence void of human voices. The slot machines kept dinging and ringing. The piped in music kept playing. But the voices had stopped as though someone had turned off a channel in Stan’s brain. That channel was the one that allowed Stan to hear other peoples’ voices. That channel was no longer broadcasting.

Stan lowered his gaze from the ceiling. Half of the people at the table were lying on the floor. The other half looked as though someone were strangling them. They had blue faces and were unable to speak. The blonde to his left was on her knees and clutching at Stan’s pant leg. “What’s wrong?” Stan half yelled and half whimpered. He was scared shitless and could not figure out what was happening. Is this a joke, Stan thought? The blonde could not reply. She collapsed the rest of the way to the floor. Her head thumped on the bright, busy casino carpet. Blood started to trickle out of her nose.

Stan turned and scanned the rest of the casino. No one was left standing. Some people were slumped in their chairs and others half leaned on the tables they were at. The rest lied motionless on the floor. Drinks lay spilled on the floor and cigarettes burned in ash trays or smoldered on the carpet. Casino chips lay in piles of colorful displays or were scattered like polka dots on a colorful summer dress. It was like being in a graveyard of fun with lights and sounds but all alone. He felt his knees go weak and his stomach felt ice cold.

Stan focused his attention on the chips he had won. He scooped them up and put them in his pants and coat pockets as quickly as he could. He then made his way across the casino to the elevators carefully stepping over the fallen bodies. He pushed the call button and waited patiently for the elevator to arrive. When the doors opened, Stan saw two elderly ladies lying on the elevator floor. Blood flowed out of the mouth of one and the other thankfully lay face down. Stan didn’t want to see any more dead faces. He whispered excuse me to the fallen ladies and entered the elevator careful not to step on any body parts. He pushed the button for the sixth floor and stared straight ahead as the elevator doors closed.