Courtyard Marriot Hotel
Raleigh, North Carolina
Mid-Morning on Monday

     The reflection in the mirror was almost laughing at this old man, staring back at it. He turned away, then slipped on a ball-cap to cover his recently balding head. He turned to look one more time at his reflection before leaving the bathroom and returning to the desk in the hotel room.
     After taking a seat at the desk, he reached for the new cell phone purchased at a Wal Mart, just down the street. It was what he called a throwaway device, a phone that he hoped could not be traced. He needed to make a call, a call that he didn’t want traced back to him.
     It would be a call to someone he didn’t know, but was told might be able to help him. To help him? No, there was no one who could help him with this… this problem he was facing. His self-diagnosis had revealed all he needed to know; there was no way out. He leaned back in the desk chair and toyed with the card he held loosely in his hand, then glanced down at the photograph which had accompanied the card.
     So, he thought, if the man whose name is on this card can’t help me, why am I bothering to call him?
     He stood up once again and walked back toward the bathroom… and the mirror. The reflection told him the same story as it had just a minute or two before; there was no one he could call for help for himself… however, the man whose name was on the card might be able to help someone else… in fact, several someone else’s… in fact a great many someone else’s.
     After nearly too much hesitation, he placed the call and waited for this… this superman… to fly to the rescue; not for him, but to those others who certainly needed this man. The call was finally answered by a very pleasant female voice.

Prologue

Walking Dead Man