A New Use for Differential Calculus
Ethan refined his plan as he walked the road to the Leeblaine Hotel. He had, for a moment, thought of finding a car and just driving up, but he didn't want to alert Jesse or Stephanie. They just might hear the motor. But Ethan's walking in? Unlikely. From his short time at the hotel, Ethan had noticed that the best rooms faced the fog-shrouded lake. So Ethan could walk up to the front entrance with their probably being none the wiser.
Ethan walked past the church and the old Esso station. The gas station and garage should still have been blown to pieces, but it had restored itself in the past few days. Ethan stared at it, grimaced, and walked on.
Leaving town, Ethan walked the lonely misty road with only the sound of his feet on the asphalt pavement. Finally, he reached the crest of the hill; Ethan looked down at the hotel, the streamlined, art-deco castle. Ethan quickly hid behind a tree.
Ethan's view was partially obscured by the ever–present fog. But there was that regiment of zombie skeletons marching around. "Clatter, clatter, clatter" Stephanie had seeming left nothing to chance.
"I'd be very careful if I were her" Ethan said to himself. "If Stephanie loses this time, that's the end of her soul. But the skeletons means this is still her HQ. Better yet, Sarah, Benny, Rory and Erica too. Benny and Rory are safe enough for now . . . if you call being turned into a zombie bellhop and an action figure safe! But what the heck has she done to Sarah? I only know Stephanie's not going to try and kill her."
Ethan covered his mouth with his hand; he had to suppress the angry growl and the snarl that went with his anger at the treatment of his friends.
Ethan looked toward the awning at the front of the hotel.
"The Challenger's back" said Ethan. "And in one piece?"
Ethan couldn't account for that, until he recalled that Jane had once tried to use a fixing spell to repair her Debbie Dazzle. Obviously, Jesse had used the right spell to fix the car! Jesse wasn't a good enough mechanic (or a mechanic at all!) to fix a 21st century Challenger with 1956 parts.
Watching the skeletons, Ethan's mind wandered to the adventure with Debbie Dazzle. It had been one of the wackier ones; yet there was a horror in seeing your parents reduced to wooden dolls. Ethan tried to reason out why Jesse didn't have to continue looking to steal life.
Ethan concluded (correctly) that Jesse's spell was, as Stephanie said, similar but different. Jesse had been a real person, and Stephanie had stolen Rory's life to restore Jesse's. One for one, but unreversed it would be a permanent exchange. In a way, Ethan realized with another grimace, the man was still a type of vampire.
"I'm not going to risk going past the skeletons" said Ethan musingly. "I . . . don't think I'll risk my plan on the skeletons. I'll wait them out."
Ethan stayed behind the tree as he watched the skeletons clatter away to the side of the hotel. It was obvious they were making a slow circuit of the building. Ethan knew how to do the calculation to the minute, with the right observations. But he didn't have the time for correct observations; nor was he holding a writing pad or tablet. So Ethan just guessed the skeletons would be ten or fifteen minutes marching around the hotel.
"If they don't hear me" said Ethan.
So Ethan ran down to the hotel, awkwardly enough. You had to be very cool to be able to run carrying a suitcase and look cool, and sadly Ethan didn't make that grade.
Ethan stalled by the Challenger, the trunk of which had been filled by several suitcases. Several, Ethan could see (or smell) at a glance were crocodile skin. As for Team Sabre's plus Erica's "stuff", it had been roughly tossed by Jesse (or someone or something ordered around by him) their backpacks and suitcases tossed in a pile against the wall of the hotel.
Ethan couldn't help but growl. Which, naturally, made him feel more irritated. Ethan quickly stuffed his backpack in his suitcase. He decided he's next save what he knew was the most important thing the teens had there; their smartphones.
The smartphones were easy to find; they had been separated from the rest of the luggage.
"Jesse must have tried to search them" Ethan thought angrily, as he locked his suitcase. "It's just good they're all password protected. Even Rory has that much sense! I don't know why Jesse just didn't order Benny to give up his password. Maybe Jack the Zombie Bellhop doesn't remember it. And here's the zombies . . . . and here goes my plan. Plan Full Service Resort."
This was a gamble. Ethan went casually up to the door, which was now guarded by a burly zombie doorman dressed, like Benny, in red suit and strapped cap. The doorman silently opened the door.
"Front desk is straight ahead through the lobby" the doorman croaked with difficulty, as if a word hadn't left his lips for a century.
Which, Ethan thought, was probably more true than he liked to think.
"Thanks" said Ethan, adding quietly to himself. "Stephanie made the zombies hotel staff. So they are hotel staff. As long as I'm a guest, I don't have anything to fear from them. As long as I don't run into Jesse or Stephanie, I can save Benny and try to find out what happened to Sarah . . . and Erica. And somehow bring Rory back to life."
Ethan walked determinedly to the art deco front lobby, and the shiny steamlined modern front desk. It was still very well polished, as a zombie maid, the thin young woman he had seen before, was busy cleaning. Ethan knew that it was only the young woman's stolen body and not her soul in front of him, but it came to mind how unfair it was that the dead girl should have to clean a ghost hotel for nonexistent guests.
Ethan had to allow his eyes to pop in surprise; he was so taken aback as he entered the room and looked to the front desk . . . across the shiny marble, glass, chrome and mahogany room.
There was the very old, thin man with the handlebar mustache, standing silently at the centre of the desk. But off to the side was the black-eyeballed bellboy Benny again, silent and still as a statue. Frozen immobile in a salute.
Ethan surprise faded to a gloomy enough look, but Benny wasn't who he was to talk to. Not yet. Ethan walked right in front of the old man. The old man said nothing. He didn't move a fraction of an inch.
Ethan knew what he had to do now. Using his sleeve, he rang the silver bell on the front desk.
"WWWWW-elcome to the Leeblaine Hotel" said the old man, revving up as he spoke. "Do you have a reservation?"
"No" said Ethan truthfully. "I took the railroad into town this morning, and was hoping for a room."
"That's too bad" said the old man. "We're nearly full up. Booked in fact."
Ethan couldn't help but look pointedly around the spookily empty lobby in response, but the zombie at the desk didn't notice.
Ethan pulled out the wallet, and gave a toothy grin.
"Money's not a problem."
"Well, I said we're nearly full up" said the old man, with new emphasis on nearly. "There's a room available on the fourth floor. It's at the front of the hotel. Not a view of the lake, but a pleasant view of the lawns and gardens. But because this is the peak season, you will have to pay our regular rate of $25.00 a night. American Plan."
"That includes meals?" said Ethan.
"Yes, of course' said the old zombie. "I would even say it's a steal."
It sure was. Ethan was pleased to be at the front of the hotel, as he knew the Royal Suite and Jesse's suite faced the lake. And the last thing he wanted was to have either take him by surprise.
"You have no idea, sir" said Ethan politely. "Two nights. I forgot you were selling 1956 rates."
"What other kinds of rates would we have?" asked the zombie. "But we can give you a 10% discount if you'll pay upfront."
"I don't know" Ethan admitted, as he handed over fifty dollars, and received a five dollar bill in change.
"Would you care to have a bellboy take your suitcase to your room?" asked the old man, after he gave Ethan a hand-written receipt.
"Yes" said Ethan simply.
The old man gave a quick ring of the silver bell, and Benny came to life again.
"Room 403" ordered the old man.
"Sounds like an HTTP error?" Ethan joked.
But the joke fell on deaf, zombie ears.
"I'm Jack" said Benny, again pointing out his name-tag. "I'll take your suitcase to your room."
The two boys went to the nearest elevator.
"I'm happy to say we have a new elevator operator" "Jack" announced.
Ethan didn't reply, but swallowed down a growl.
The elevator operator was the snowmobiler, who had so lately been lying dead on the trail. A black-eyeballed zombie like the rest.
"Fourth floor" Benny ordered.
"Where did you get him?" asked Ethan, finally.
"Who?"
"The elevator operator."
"Mr. Black obtained him for us this morning" said Jack. "At the very edge of our lands. Mr. Black was hunting."
"What?" asked Ethan.
"A werewolf, but it left town" said Jack nonchalantly, as if all bellhops in the real 1956 had regularly discussed hotel guests hunting werewolfs. "It probably crossed the trestle over the lake and went into Minnesota. Or maybe it was hit by a train."
"Fourth floor" said the snowmobiler.
Ethan followed Benny out of the elevator, down the hall and to his door, which Benny courteously unlocked. The room was comfortable enough, with two high beds, a few heavy dressers, a desk, a table and a couple hefty chairs. Between two heavy curtains, Ethan could see the front lawn of the hotel beneath the dull mist.
Benny dropped Ethan's suitcase, gave a smart salute with his right hand and put his left hand out for a tip.
"Could you close the door for a minute . . . Jack?" asked Ethan, flinching a little at the unnaturalness of using Benny's hated middle name.
"Yes, sir" said Benny, with another salute.
Benny stepped outside the room, and prepared to close the door carefully behind him.
"No, you need to stay on the inside" said Ethan.
"Yes, sir"
"And quit saluting!"
"Yes, sir"
"Listen to this, Jack!"
Ethan played the "knockout" spell Benny had recorded to use against an evil-version of himself. As it had once cured Benny of Vice Principal Stern's spell, he hoped it would get his best friend's mind back.
Benny fell against the door, slamming it shut with his weight, and collapsed to the floor with a thud. But almost instantly Benny jumped to his feet.
"Beg your pardon, sir!" he said, again saluting to Ethan's great annoyance.
"Are you a bellhop or the world's best trained soldier?" Ethan complained.
"We at the Leeblaine Hotel congratulate ourselves on our top-notch service" Benny said, matter-of-factly.
Without another word, Ethan used the prerecorded spell Evelyn Weir had made. The one intended to de-zombify Benny once Stephanie had been defeated for once and for all. Ethan hoped this would at least get rid of the bellhop spell.
"And what was that sir! Ugh! Excuse me sir!"
Jack the bellboy made a hasty exit to the washroom.
"I don't get how a guy who eats Reese's Pieces pizza can have such a weak stomach" Ethan observed wryly.
Benny returned in a few minutes, looking perplexed.
"I don't know what came over me, sir" he said. "I haven't thrown up since I became a zombie. It must have been some bad brains."
"So you know you're a zombie now?" asked Ethan, eagerly.
Ethan felt sure that the spell had at last worked.
"Of course I am" said Benny. "All the best hotels hire zombies for their staff."
"I think this may take awhile" said Ethan, his mouth agape at this remark. He staggered to sit on the chair at the writing desk. "What . . . why do they . . . hire zombies?"
"Because we're tireless, efficient and dedicated servants" Benny said. "But sir, it is sad, you know, now that I think of it."
"Why?" asked Ethan.
"Well, I think I died when I was only sixteen years old" said Benny. "And Jack Weir was a talented kid. I know I was."
"You never died" said Ethan firmly.
"Oh, yes I did, sir" said Benny. "How do you explain my being a zombie?"
"Evil spell" said Ethan impatiently. "You're not a zombie who's an enslaved corpse. You're alive and been . . . temporarily . . . turned into one of the walking dead. The old school walking dead. Remember, the uncool old school zombie slaves who aren't even contagious?"
"No, that can't be it, sir" said Benny. "I'm as dead as a doornail. Probably in a mining accident."
"Benny, the only mining accident you ever had was playing Big Pine Death Mine" Ethan said caustically.
"The name is Jack, sir" added Benny reflectively. "J-A-C-K, Jack."
"Do you remember anything about your life before you were a zombie?" asked Ethan. "Jack?"
"Well, sir" tried Benny, taking off his cap to scratch his head. "I . . . uh . . . think so, sir. I had a grandmother. I had a father who travelled a lot. My mother lived somewhere else, with her mother in a city. I had a girlfriend, really short, and emotional . . . Della was her name . . . she loved her pet dog. It had a rather silly name . . . not Della but her dog. Now, speaking of dogs, sir. My best friend lived next door. I don't think he was that short blond teenager with a Labrador Retriever . . . ."
"The short blond guy wasn't your best friend" said Ethan. "He was only your second-to-best friend, wasn't even that short anymore, and he didn't live next door.
"I remember, sir" said Benny. "A serious, stiff boy who looked like you, except his incisors weren't so large."
"Who's serious and stiff?" asked Ethan, petulantly, with a growl. "No way Benn . . . Jack! Just because I was careful? Just because I liked to plan ahead?"
"No, sir. Not you. I was talking about my best friend when I was a human being, sir" said Benny, saluting again. "Almost as fixed as one of us zombies. Well, for a human being. But you know how you people are!"
There was an awkward moment's silence.
"Is that all you can remember?" asked Ethan.
"There's little point, sir" said Benny, as he strapped his cap back on his head. "I am dead. This is old news. Probably sixty or a hundred years ago now, for all I can remember. But, I'm likely needed at the front desk. This is the height of the 1956 season, you know."
"You're a little late for that" said Ethan sarcastically.
Ethan looked at the desk in front of him. There was a pad of paper on it. An idea struck him.
"Before you go, Jack, can you solve a problem that's been bothering me. I'm a mathlete, but I can't seem to work this problem out."
"I can try, sir" said Benny.
Ethan had written out Differentiate y=(3x + 1) squared.
Benny looked at the problem for a moment.
"This is easy, sir!" Jack said. "Simple differential calculus. The chain rule applies here. You know, sir, the formula to compute the derivative of a composite function. I can solve it in three lines. There, 6 (3x+1) is your solution. And . . . it clears the head.
Benny looked up at Ethan, down at the problem, and suddenly took his two hands and tried to shake something out of head.
"Thank you, sir" Benny said finally. "I know who you are, Ethan Phillip Morgan. And we are the two mathletes in Grade 11 at Whitechapel High School who know the chain rule and have some knowledge of differential calculus. And you are right, sir, about me being alive. And the best hotels definitely do not hire zombies as bellboys."
"Dude, Benny, you're back" said Ethan excitedly.
Ethan observed that Benny's face flinched a few times, but his features remained atypically deadpan. Still, Ethan and Benny shook hands, Roman-style. Or Battlestar Galactica style.
"Now, where's Sarah?" asked Ethan. "What does Stephanie have her doing? And Rory, is he okay? And . . . there's Erica?"
"Ethan . . ., sir" said Benny quietly. "They're all topnotch . . . ."
"Topnotch?" repeated Ethan quizzically. "And what the heck do you mean by Ethan, sir?"
"Under the circumstance, sir" Benny said, "your friends . . . our friends, I should say, will be safe for the next three or four hours at least. But I need to tell you something important."
"What?" asked Ethan.
Benny walked to the mirror, and looked curiously at his uniform, hat and tag.
"I have my memory back and most of my free will" said Benny. "But you didn't break the spell turning me into the hotel bellboy. I need to wear this uniform, this hat, and like it. I'm at work as a bellboy until the spell is broken. I have to act like a bellboy. You can not even call me by my first name. It has to be Jack, sir. Otherwise, it's like nails scraping on a blackboard. It's torture, sir. Everything!"
Benny said this in an even, almost monotonous voice, But after a struggle with himself all he could do was shrug in a helpless-looking way.
"I know what it's like to not be myself" said Ethan, who again looked surprise. "But it's more . . . psychological torture being the bellboy instead of a werewolf."
"It is still torture sir, but we will break it yet" said Benny, as he turned away from his reflection. "Sir, I can't even remember why the real me hates this uniform!"
"You'll help me?" asked Ethan. "You can help me."
"Of course, I will" said Benny. He paused, and tried to nod energetically. "We're best friends. Besides, you're a guest of the hotel. I am serving you . . . in a way. But there's another thing."
"What?"
"I have to answer the silver bell in the lobby whenever the desk clerk calls me down" said Benny. "I hear it from the entire hotel. And sooner or later, Jesse will send for me. Stephanie gave me to him as his servant. So, I can hear him whenever he shouts my name. But I won't tell him a thing, sir. I can promise you that."
"Why did Stephanie give you to Jesse?" spat Ethan.
"Because her spell on Sarah didn't work as well as expected" said Benny. "However . . . ."
"The Frack!" Ethan exclaimed as he jumped up, as his eyes glowed yellow.
"Well, you see, sir. It happened after you were thrown out the window and turned into a werewolf. I was already immobile counterfeit zombie bellboy and Rory reduced to an action figure. Stephanie had turned her attention to Erica . . . ."
