Chapter 654: Turbulence in the Red Sea (Part Seven)_1

"This is an opportunity." Kira, a female agent at the CIA, said while maneuvering the steering wheel, "We've already lost a battle in regards to the Philby List. If we manage to secure evidence of the Quinn Family's collusion with the Mexican drug cartels this time, we can submit a satisfying report before the next assembly."

Lila, the African American woman sitting in the passenger's seat, sighed, "The African-American movement has already failed. There are no other revolutionary forces left on this land, we are struggling in isolation, every step is laborious…"

"Are you scared?" asked Kira. Lila touched the corners of her eyebrows and said, "Perhaps. I have been disappointed too many times to count, what's one more?"

"I'm really sorry, I can't sway Moscow's decisions. The tragedy of the Black Panther Party shouldn't have happened, but…" Kira shook her head, clearly feeling profound regret for the original oppression on African American communists in this country.

Lila showed little expression, he said, "Maybe… we all knew things had changed. You just didn't want to admit it. I dare say, you'll be deeply disappointed by whoever takes over in ten days."

"Change signifies new hopes. It's always good to have change, isn't it?" Kira parked the car by the road, and the two got out. They looked up at the doorplate of the towering building in front of them. It read "Quin Mansion".

In a guest room of the Beverly Hotel in Los Angeles, Hal sighed and looked at Shiller, "You have to find a way to help him. Ever since we got back from Mexico, Oliver hasn't spoken a word. He doesn't interact, doesn't eat, this can't continue..."

Hal glanced toward the living room. Arthur sat next to Oliver on the couch, trying to comfort him. But it was useless. Oliver just sat there blankly without uttering a word, nor showing any reaction.

"This catatonic state is probably a self-protection instinct of the brain after a psychological shock. To break out of this, deep treatment is required. But are you sure he would accept such treatment?" asked Shiller.

"Exactly as you said, this is a problem with no solution. The Quinn family has been collaborating with the drug cartel for years, reaping massive wealth. Oliver was raised in such affluence - that's irreversible." Shiller also looked at Oliver while speaking.

"It's all my fault. I shouldn't have let Galado speak so freely." Hal sighed, but shook his head quickly, saying, "No, one day, he would've found out anyway. If he goes back to the Quinn family and takes over the family business now, he's bound to find out about these sinful dealings."

"What do you think he's thinking? Is he trying to accept all this?" Shiller asked.

"It's because I found that he has absolutely no intention of accepting it that I hope you can reason with him. We both know what will happen if this continues." Hal laid his hand on Shiller's shoulder and said, "From what I have seen so far, Oliver is a good man. Otherwise, he wouldn't suffer so much for this. I really hope you can help him, Shiller…"

Shiller patted Hal's arm before he left the room, saying, "I'll do my best."

When Shiller got to the couch, Hal drew Arthur away. They were left alone in the room, having headed downstairs to dine in the restaurant on the first floor.

As Shiller sat across from Oliver, Oliver looked at him - his eyes were dull. He then slowly lowered his eyelids, avoiding Shiller's gaze.

"I know you don't want to see a psychologist now. You think I can't answer your questions," Shiller poured a glass of water for Oliver, "But, before that, you should at least drink some water. You should be dehydrated by now."

Shiller passed the glass to Oliver, but Oliver didn't react. He simply looked at the ripples forming on the clear water in the glass from the slight shaking. Upon seeing this, Oliver showed a terrified expression, pushing his body forcefully backwards, and began to heave violently.

"Stay calm, Oliver. What you're seeing isn't real. It's an illusion." Shiller quickly stood up, grabbed an umbrella from next to him, and rushed back. Just as he turned around, Oliver pushed away the tea table in front of him. He collapsed onto the floor, struggling violently.

He swung his fists and roared, "Get away! All of you get away! You damned criminals, stay away from me!!!"

"No…no...that wasn't… You were right, it was me, it was all me. I killed you all... The sea, that red sea, blood…"

Oliver started to sob, crying and snivelling uncontrollably, although not out of sorrow - these were physiological tears, as he seemed unable to control any of his organs.

Shiller stepped forward, standing in front of him. He knocked the floor hard with the handle of the umbrella, saying, "All these are illusions. You're in a hotel, not at sea. Defeat it, don't let it control you..."

Oliver's neck veins were bulging. He was curling and uncurling his body, one hand grabbing the wrist of the other. Was he trying to restrain his own actions?

Upon seeing this, Shiller sighed, took out a sedative from his pocket, and prepared to inject it into Oliver.

With no restrictions on using his special abilities now, Shiller turned into a cloud of smoke, held down Oliver and injected the sedative. However, Oliver had high drug resistance - the regular sedative had no effect. He was still in a distressed state.

This situation wasn't rare. Sometimes, when mental illness patients are in a state of extreme excitement, human muscle restrictions are lifted, their strength significantly enhanced, and their minds highly active. Regular sedatives become ineffective. But, if given in excessive doses, they could be dangerous.

At this point, to prevent human harm, they would use some anesthetics to anesthetize the patient to slow down their actions effectively. However, this required a professional anesthesiologist to insure that drug dosage would not be harmful.

Although Shiller had anesthetics, he did not have the knowledge of anesthesiology. Chemical anesthesia might harm Oliver, so Shiller intended to adopt a more ancient method of anesthesia, which was physical anesthesia.

Shiller took advantage of Oliver trembling on the ground, he raised his umbrella, directly hitting Oliver's neck. Shiller controlled his strength, Oliver fainted with a "Thud".

Shiller sighed and moved Oliver onto the sofa. After about 20 minutes, Oliver woke up. As soon as he woke up, he became a bit excited, forcing Shiller to knock him down again. After repeating this three times, Oliver finally regained a bit of consciousness.

Shiller put his umbrella aside, sitting on the opposite sofa, looking at Oliver lying on the sofa. "You're the most difficult patient I've ever come across, not just requiring psychological treatment, but also physical."

Oliver opened his mouth slightly, trying to speak, but severe dehydration had made his throat incredibly hoarse. The words he wanted to utter were stuck in his throat and turned into a husky cough.

"Cough, cough, cough . . ." Harold coughed vigorously, turning into dry heaving. He propped himself on the ground, struggling to turn over back onto the sofa, looking at the ceiling blankly.

During this time, he had experienced physical torment and spiritual exhaustion, weakened to the extreme.

"Thank you . . ." Oliver finally choked out a syllable. "But I don't need comfort. Leave me alone for a while."

"Yes, you don't need comfort. I'm not planning to comfort you either. I'm here to treat you . . ."

"I don't need treatment." Oliver said again, "I am not sick, thank you, doctor, but you should leave."

Shiller picked up a cup of water again, handing it to Oliver. "Drink some water first, then we can chat. You can say whatever you want, I'll listen patiently."

Oliver sat up from the sofa, taking the cup and finishing all the water in one gulp. He choked himself into coughing for a few more times, before saying, "Thank you, I'm okay, I'll be fine soon…"

Shiller looked at his still trembling arms, lifted his own cup and took a sip, then said:"If you don't want to chat, then drink more water and eat something to build up your strength. You haven't eaten for a long time."

"Yes, I will. But right now, I just want to be alone." Oliver was extremely introverted, repetitively responding, but not giving any answers or initiating any topic, demonstrating no desire to express his feelings. To a psychiatrist, this was the most tricky situation to deal with.

"Can you tell me about your current doubts? Perhaps, I could provide some different perspectives."

Shiller kept inquiring Oliver, but he just wouldn't say anything. Moreover, he often lost concentration. Shiller could tell that every time Oliver lost concentration, he was recalling previous incidents, which was a very bad sign.

All stress-related trauma symptoms were reflected in Oliver; rigidity, re-experiencing incidents, panic, emotional closure, refusal to communicate. Generally speaking, doctors would give patients some time to calm down before treating such conditions.

However, Oliver probably couldn't wait much longer. First, he had been severely injured while surviving on a deserted island, then he had fasted and become dehydrated, another two days like this, he might just go into shock.

By then, his extremely weak physical state would make his mental state even more unstable, at that point, stress-related trauma might evolve into permanent psychological trauma, making it more difficult to treat.

After repeated attempts at probing, Shiller sighed deeply and decided to change the approach.

Shiller got up and returned to his room, took out his suitcase. He retrieved a few books from it, along with a file bag. As he returned to the sofa, he slammed the pile onto the coffee table, making a "Bang" sound.

Oliver facing him appeared somewhat dull. Shiller sat back on the opposite side, placing his hand on the pile of books, he said:

"Let me reintroduce myself, Schiller Rodriguez, secret spy from the 16th Bureau of the Soviet National Security Committee, KGB agent…."

Shiller elongated the last word, stating:

"... a Communist."