At least I know what won't work.
Namely, strangulation and beating. Based on the results so far, neither one will get the job done when it comes to putting Knox Pittenger back in control of Quincy's body.
The tough question is, what will work? What do I have to do to this guy to get to the personality I need?
After all I've done to him, Quincy just lies there in the dirt of Waystation Cemetery, curled up in a fetal position. I give him another kick out of pure frustration, and he barely flinches. Just coughs up a little more blood.
"Come on, Knox." I rest my boot on his hip as I think about what to do next. "We need ya, buddy."
"For the quadrillionth time..." Quincy's voice is weak and ragged from the beating. "...Knox is dead."
"Not according to Knox," I tell him.
At which point, Weed marches over from a pow-wow with his troops. Thanks to the bomb around my waist, he's been playing along with me...but from the look on his hairy kisser, I can tell he's low on patience.
"Getting anywhere?" says Weed.
"Not yet." I roll Quincy back and forth with my boot on his hip. "But we're close."
Weed blows out his breath. "How 'bout we go with Plan A instead? Forget about his inner prick and just use him as a hostage to flush out Gowdy?"
Frankly, I know he's right, we're just wasting time here...but for some reason, I can't let go. The longer it takes, the more determined I get to bring out Quincy's hidden self. To set free the personality locked away deep inside, trapped forever in the shadows of a lie.
To lead it into the light.
"Let's try Plan C instead." I hoist my boot off Quincy's hip and walk around in front of him. "Hey, Quince. Remember this?" Reaching into a side pocket of my fatigue jacket, I pull out the remote control for the bomb.
Quincy looks up for a second, then lets his head fall back to the dirt. "Phallic symbol, phallic symbol, blah blah blah."
I turn and walk between headstones across the cemetery ground. "They're right underneath us. Gowdy and your friends. This is where the secret tunnel ends up."
"'Secret tunnel,' huh? Now you're talking anal." Quincy manages a rattling laugh between his bruised lips.
Let him have his moment. "Ever hear of dynamite fishing?" I stop and look back with a grin. "Instead of getting one fish with one line, you toss a stick of dynamite in the lake, and boom." I throw my arms in the air. "You get all the fish at once. All the dead fish."
Quincy doesn't answer. I think he sees where I'm going with this.
"Knox could help bring up the one fish we need— Gowdy." I wave the remote control back and forth over my head. "Without Knox, we go dynamite fishing."
I turn and walk a little further before stopping again. "Right about here, I'd say." I raise my voice so Quincy can hear me. "Dead center of the cave, more or less." With one hand, I lift my yellow smiley-face t-shirt to give him a look at the bomb. "This oughtta bring the ceiling down on everyone. Gowdy and your friends."
I let it soak in for a minute...but nothing happens. Quincy stays curled up in the dirt and doesn't say a word. Either he's calling my bluff or he just doesn't give a shit at this point.
So I push it a little further. "Tough break about your buddies, but at least they'll die heroes. They'll have given their lives to save America, right?"
Quincy just stares at me for a while. Even from a distance, I can see his eyes are frustratingly normal...not rolled up to the whites Knox-style.
"Repeat after me." I put my thumb on the remote's big red button. "I only regret that I have but one life to give for my country!"
Weed isn't in on my game, and I can tell he's worried. "Hey!" He starts running toward me. "Hold on a minute there!"
I don't set him straight. His panic adds fuel to the fire I'm trying to light under Quincy. "Hey now, hero! See you on the other side!"
Weed keeps coming. Quincy keeps watching.
"Zastee!" I scream it to the heavens with every fiber of my being. "Death is approaching on his coal-black charger! Zastee!"
Then, finally, Quincy closes his eyes and opens his bloody mouth.
"War..." he says. "War Willow..."
I lower the remote control and take a step toward him. "Yes? Knox, is that you?"
When he opens his eyes, I see who it is.
"War Willow wouldn't do that," says Quincy. "Fipso facto...you're not War Willow."
Knox is not in the house.
And suddenly, neither am I.
The remote falls from my hand to the dirt. I stagger one more step, and then I freeze.
And everything fades to black.