Who: Hal Where: Hal's apartment When: Wednesday June 23, morning What: Hal has his first encounter with a zombie, kills it, and decides he's the next Rambo so he can go save Rhea because he's convinced she's in trouble.
Hal didn't own a TV, so it took a little longer for him to get news of the zombie situation, but the phone call from Fredrick Tuesday morning pretty much told him what he needed to know. Zombies were invading at least New Orleans if not the entire nation, and he wasn't supposed to leave his house. But Hal did leave his house right after that phone call to get some supplies. Baseball bats, a couple of golf clubs, a hunting slingshot with plenty of ammo to spare, a hatchet, even some regular old knives for a kitchen. People were going for the obvious weapons - handguns, and while he would have rather had that or a shotgun, they were all out by the time he got to the store. So, he went for the less obvious, and the things that would probably help a lot more than something that would take reloading and even then you'd probably run out of ammo. If anything, Hal prided himself on always being prepared for whatever was to come up. When he got back home, he locked his doors and closed his blinds. He made sure not to make too much noise or even turn on the lights, he didn't want any unnecessary attention brought on to himself. It worked pretty well for all of Tuesday.
By Wednesday morning, Hal was growing restless. He had turned the tool belt into a weapon holder of sorts, fashioning spots for his baseball bats and golf clubs. He placed the steel balls for the sling shots into one nail pocket and turned the other into a holder for the kitchen knives and hatchet. He was ready to go in case of an emergency, but he was hoping it wouldn't happen. Still, it was a much better idea to be prepared than to wait. He even had a backpack ready, mostly filled with water and granola bars, anything that he could open up and eat without any preparation. It had a few other things in it, like a first aid kit, matches, and a change of clothes, but he didn't really think he'd have time to change his clothes if push came to shove and he was out there at the end of the world with all of those zombies fighting for his life.
Part of him regretted moving back to New Orleans at that point, but it only lasted for a few seconds. If he were somewhere else and heard about this zombie stuff if it were only occurring in this city, he'd come in a heartbeat to make sure Rhea was alright. He was probably reckless and a bit stupid for running after her in any type of situation, having no concerns for his own safety, but he loved her so he would always go. He had called Rhea the day before and hung up when she answered, only wanting to make sure she was alright. It was probably a bad idea, because she had a cell phone and she probably could have done a number search, letting her know it was him, but he just wanted to make sure she was alright. He was going off of the idea that if she was in a safe enough of a place to answer her phone, she was fine. She was a smart girl, she'd be hiding out in her place right? Or maybe with her parents? Either way, he was certain she was going to be okay if she just stayed hidden away. He was doing fine doing the same, or so he thought.
He should have known better than to use the stove. He had heard his neighbors do it a few hours before, and the thought of having a hot meal was too tempting. But with the clanking of pots and pans from an otherwise quiet apartment brought more attention to his place than he wanted. He should have known pancakes were impractical in a time like this, even if they sounded great. All he was thinking about was eating those golden fluffy little guys, and it was probably for that reason that he didn't even hear the jiggling of his door handle or thuds on the door. In fact, he didn't notice anything at all until his door finally gave in and fell to the ground, the zombie who had been his neighbor Daniel fell as well. Hal dropped his spatula at the sight of Daniel getting up rather clumsily. He was still recognizably Daniel, but he was also very much a zombie now. Missing patches of hair, no front teeth, and a very very obvious bite mark on his left leg made it all too clear that his middle aged recluse of a neighbor was no longer himself. Still, Hal couldn't resist the urge to talk to him, or at least try to.
"...Daniel? What the hell! You just broke down my door!" Hal told him in disbelief, heading from the kitchen over to his couch in the not entirely cut off living room. On the couch was his tool belt and all of his zombie killing supplies.
But zombie-Daniel was very determined to get his food - Hal - and didn't even bother grunting in response. He was up from the ground now, and moving a lot faster than what Hal expected a zombie would move like. He wasn't quite at the same speed as Hal as he sprinted to get something - anything - to defend himself with, but still, it made Hal worried about what was going to happen.
Reaching the couch first, Hal grabbed for a baseball bat and swung at the zombie, hitting him hard in the side. Unfortunately he hit zombie-Daniel too hard because the wooden bat broke. "Shit!" Hal exclaimed throwing what was left of the bat at Daniel and grabbing instead one of the golf clubs.
Zombie-Daniel seemed annoyed by what Hal had done, and he had a new wound on his side to show for the first swing. Hal had also hit him in the head when he threw the bat at him, but he was merely stunned by that. He was still as determined as ever to get some of the fleshy feast he was so expectantly looking for.
Once he had the golf club, he swung again at zombie-Daniel's abdomen, but it had little effect even though again he was sure he at least caused internal injury. Well, this wasn't going as expected! So he was going to have to come up with a new plan. Go for the limbs or go for the head. The head! That was it! Didn't old zombie movies alway say to destroy the brains? The only problem was, Daniel was a fair bit bigger than Hal and he didn't want to just swing carelessly away at his head. So he jumped onto the couch and hit him on the head several times.
The first couple of swings only seemed to stun him. He wasn't hitting hard enough! But how was he supposed to know how hard to hit? It wasn't like he often went on zombie killing sprees, or even just regular killing sprees. If he could even kill zombie-Daniel, it would be the first thing that he had intentionally killed beyond a fly. But he was doing a really crappy job at killing Daniel. In fact, he was just getting blood everywhere. If he had a weak stomach, he would have already puked by now. But this was his life he had to worry about now, so he kept on swinging. After about five or six swings, he finally heard the crack of Daniel's skull. No one seemed to be more surprised at this than zombie-Daniel, who fell to his knees. Hal was aware he wasn't dead yet, so he didn't hesitate to keep on going so he could finish the job. Maybe Daniel had been a nice guy when he was alive, but as a zombie, Hal couldn't say that he cared enough about his feelings to stop. It was kill or be killed, and Hal accepted that with much more ease than he ever really expected he would.
In fact, Hal was so intent on not being zombie food that he just kept swinging and swinging and swinging until long after zombie-Daniel was fully dead for the second time. Once he was fully satisfied that he was really dead, Hal dropped the golf club and sat on the back of his couch, letting out a breath of relief. The golf club had been a better idea than he expected, the bat a worse. At least he didn't stop with one bat and call it a day. He'd have been zombie food then! He wiped his face off with his shirt sleeve before getting up off the couch and grabbing for the phone. If staying at home wasn't a safe thing to do, then he had to check up on Rhea.
He dialed her number, trying his hardest not to look at what had once been his neighbor lying on his floor dead, waiting for Rhea's voice on the other end. Except she didn't pick up. So he called a second time. Again, no answer. Instead of going for try number three, Hal tossed his phone next to the holder and put on his zombie weapon belt. He almost forgot his book bag, but doubled back for it, finally looking at the mess that zombie-Daniel's blood and guts had made to the area around him. If the room looked that bad, he must have looked terrible. Instead of going to clean up, though, he headed out his door, a grim but determined look on his face. He didn't exactly look like your typical zombie killing protagonist, but then again, he didn't really give a shit about saving the world or anyone else beside Rhea. And her apartment wasn't exactly close to his. It'd be quite a walk since he didn't have a car...but maybe he could use an otherwise unoccupied car. Maybe even Daniel's. It wasn't like he was going to be able to use it anymore! There were more zombies than he was probably prepared for just waiting for him outside of the front door to his building, but he didn't really have a hiding place anymore and he was past the point of caring about staying safe. Rhea was in danger and he just knew it. So he was going out there!