It was instinct that brought him to this point. There was no other explanation for such an action. And in all honesty, his reaction felt somewhat shameful.
Lewis Beacon had just hopped into a shower stall as three young men tumbled through the door to the men's locker room. One of them was fighting to break the grip of the other two. Pulling the curtain almost completely shut, Lewis left only a small opening through which to watch the fight. Lewis, twenty-one, had just finished dressing and packing up, having completed his daily workout and shower. He was about to leave when he overheard commotion outside the door and had hidden himself just in time. The young men passed right by Lewis without even noticing him. Usually no one was in the locker room at this time of day. Lewis loved working out alone, while everyone else was at dinner. It was a surprise to see someone enter the locker room, let alone three in a fight.
"Let me go," shouted the middle guy as the other two managed to get control of his arms.
Lewis watched as the other two dragged the young man into one of the locker stalls. He could hear the slam of a body against rattling metal.
"What were you saying," shouted a voice. It was one of other two men. "You sure that's something you're prepared to do?"
Lewis could hear their movements. One of them walked back into view, facing away from the other two. He looked a year older than Lewis, with more muscle too. Obviously an athlete, he was dressed in all-black sports wear. He stared at the wall as he spoke.
"Listen Brad," he said, "that article can't get sent to Chimes. It's that simple. Doug didn't know what he was talking about before. He's just stupid. That's all."
"Yeah," came what must have been Brad's voice. Lewis could tell because the speaker was panting and sounded weak. "And I bet Vandenberg was just being stupid too."
"We don't really know what happened to Vandenberg," said the man in black, "but we do agree that your article is pointing fingers in bad directions. It was a good thing Turk over here got wind of it beforehand."
The man in black turned around as he said this, walking back out of sight.
"So now what," said Brad.
"Well," Lewis heard the man in black say, "you're going to swear not to ever tell anyone about that article, or we're going to beat the shit out of you in the showers until you do. And when we get back, we're going to smash your computer."
"Go to hell" Brad spat.
"Suit yourself," said Turk.
Then Turk kicked Brad hard in the ribs and dragged him, now writhing in pain, around the lockers and over to an open shower. But he stopped short in front of Lewis' stall.
"Hey, Brent," Turk said. "I think we've got a witness."
Brent, the man in black sportswear, walked over to Turk.
"What do you mean?"
Turk cocked his head towards the handicap shower stall, the only one with a curtain pulled shut. Brent frowned, and in one motion yanked back the curtain. No one was there. Brent looked back at Turk.
"You pussy. No one's here at this time of day. Now let's finish with him. The longer we take, the more likely someone's going to find us."
Brad looked up at Turk and Brent.
"Someone's going to find out," he said.
Turk punched Brad in the face, and Brad fell back unconscious.
"No they're not," Turk grunted.
Lewis quietly shut the door to the locker room and ran down to the atrium of the Field House.
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