As night approached, the temperature dropped lower and lower. It was nearly the rainy season in this desert climate, and the difference between day and night was immense. At the hottest point of the day, even sitting in the cave could make a person sweat, but at night, it became so cold that even with a campfire, they had to wear padded clothes.
Schiller added more wood to build up the fire. Stark, having recovered somewhat, began sorting through the communication equipment parts the kidnappers had looted from the military communications room Schiller had mentioned.
Although the wound on his back still hurt like hell, Stark was sustained by sheer determination. Even though he could barely lift his arms, he tried to use the hand farther from his wound to rummage through the parts for anything useful.
Schiller walked over, crouched beside him, and asked, "Need help?"
Kneeling on the ground, Stark panted with some difficulty. He turned to look at Schiller, but the beads of sweat dripping from his lashes were even clearer.
"No, no need. How long has it been since you slept?" Stark turned back and continued searching. "You haven't rested since I got here, have you? Aren't you going to sleep for a while?"
"I don't need sleep."
"Don't be stupid. All humans need sleep." Stark picked up a circuit board and examined it closely. "Sleep doesn't just restore your strength. It lets your mind relax."
"Do you think relaxing your mind here would be a good thing?"
"Fine, I know you're a psychologist." Stark pursed his lips and said with faint anger, "Then go do something else. Don't stand here watching me. I don't need your help."
Schiller left.
Stark seemed even angrier. He stared wide-eyed at Schiller's back, took a deep breath, and forced