Giving in wasn't an option. She - he'd not had time to ask her name - had wept, pleaded, then finally agreed. Shuddering, the way he'd imagined a suicide would cutting his own wrist, she'd - Hell, he should ask her name at least - placed the unpinned grenades one at a time behind his back.
The release levers successfully pinned between spine and the plastic that had separated driver from passengers, he felt their edges anew as he extended his arms to push against the bus's folding doors.
"Good girl. Get upstairs. When it's safe. When they're all gone. Come down. Until then, keep quiet."
The bite mark and the scratches were showing signs of Z. It wouldn't be long now. Not long before he was the same as those he was preventing from entering. They could sense it too.
"Shelly. I'm Shelly" she said, giving him the last gift of her humanity, before he lost his. She climbed the spiral stairs. Not long now.