The convoy arrived at the foot of Mount Kilimanjaro. The vehicles could go no farther, so everyone got out. Jonathan Reis looked up at the towering mountain, then took out the map and examined it again. Pointing in one direction, he said, "That way."
Allen ordered loudly, "Bring the equipment. Prepare to climb."
He turned to a Black man wearing a robe and said, "From now on, you'll be responsible for leading the way."
The Black man nodded.
They abandoned the vehicles at the foot of the mountain. The mercenaries slung large and small packs over their backs and entered the primeval jungle, while the Black man walked at the front of the group with a spear raised in his hand.
There were few trees on the savanna, but at the foot of Mount Kilimanjaro lay a dense jungle. Towering trees and tangled vines filled the area, while birdcalls and beastly roars occasionally echoed through the air, brimming with a primitive atmosphere.
The mercenaries struggled through the jungle while holding their guns at the ready and watching their surroundings vigilantly, prepared at any moment for wild beasts to burst out. This was primitive Africa, not a tourist attraction.
Half a day later, the group finally crossed the jungle and reached the mountainside. From here onward, the trees grew sparse, exposing vast stretches of rock. Mount Kilimanjaro was a volcano, a dormant volcano that remained active to this day. Experts said that hot magma lay more than a thousand meters beneath the ground, and a massive volcanic crater still sat at the summit.
Looking up at the mountain range still towering into the clouds, Jonathan Reis caught his breath and ordered the group to rest again. The mercenaries sat down one after another, taking out food and water to replenish their