The Sound of Whales by Kerr Thomson Read Free Book Online Page A

night in one with Dunny. It took ten minutes to reach the base of the cliff and he was sweating as he pressed a hand against the weathered sandstone of the first cave opening. His heart pounded as he peered into the dark entrance. This cave was not especially deep and the afternoon light made it to the back wall. The cave was empty except for sand and dried seaweed. The next cave along was a little deeper but equally empty. The entrance to the third cave could only be reached by a clamber up some fallen boulders. Fraser pulled himself up the loose rocks, sending a scatter of stone back down to the beach. At the top he peered cautiously into the hole. Sunlight reached only so far and the depths of the cave were inky black. There was a damp smell to the air and he could hear water dripping from the roof. He paused for a moment to let his eyes adjust to the gloom. The back of the cave remained in shadow.
    â€˜Hello,’ he said nervously, hearing the word echo back as if he had replied to himself. There was no other response. He needed a torch and some courage to venture deeper. He had neither, and there were other small caves to be examined further along the cliff face. He turned his back on the entrance, searching the ground for a sure footing to clamber back down to the beach, and saw, in the thin layer of sand at the cave mouth, a set of footprints. They were not his own, for these prints were made by bare feet. Big feet. Fraser caught his breath, turned back to the dark opening.
    â€˜I know you’re in there,’ he said, trying to sound confident. ‘Show yourself.’
    For a moment there was nothing, just blackness, and then shadow became movement. The figure of a man emerged from against the back wall as if pulling himself from the stone. At first all that could be seen were his eyes, white discs that shone as he moved into the light. The man was big. He wasn’t young but he wasn’t old, his head was shaven and he had the beginnings of a beard. He wore nothing except a pair of faded jeans. His skin was black.
    Fraser gasped in fright, took a step back, then another and found himself tumbling over the fallen rocks. He hit the beach with a thud and his lungs deflated. He knew he was only winded, but it felt like dying. After a long few seconds he caught his breath and slowly pushed himself up to a sitting position. The man was standing over him and Fraser couldn’t breathe again, his heart hammered so hard it was painful, his whole body tensed at what was to come.
    â€˜Can you help me?’ the man asked. He sounded tired and desperate, and his voice trembled.
    Fraser picked himself up from the sand and, gasping for oxygen, he turned and ran, ran as fast as he had ever run in his life, his feet sinking in the soft sand, his arms pumping, fingers clawing at the air as if that might help. He heard the sound of whimpering and realized that it came from him. He dared to glance behind him and saw the beach was empty.
    Fraser collapsed on the sand. When his breathing finally returned to normal he sat up and felt embarrassed. True explorers didn’t run away whimpering. And he remembered the man’s words: Can you help me ? That didn’t sound like a murdering psychopath.
    Then it hit him: he had heard those words before. In the middle of a storm-tossed ocean someone had called for help. It was the same man, there had been someone in the water, and the man had made it to shore.
    He got up and walked back towards the cave. When he reached it he shouted, ‘Hello again.’ There was a sudden panic that he had frightened the man away and would never see him again. After a moment, however, the stranger stepped out of the shadowy entrance and slid down the boulders to the beach.
    At first glance the man looked big and scary but there was a nervousness in his eyes and his head twitched left and right as if he expected something bad to happen at any moment. ‘I did not mean to frighten