A horrible little adventure, funny, dark, and weird, just the way I like 'em. On her way home from a shift at the deli, our heroine is left for dead in a mud-caked shantytown where depressed cannibals worship the prophecy of a probably imaginary bus. It's the kind of scene I used to dream up on deliriously hot summer camp days, out in the woods, staring at the sun, imagining a band of people cut off society, trying to make sense of it all while also trying to stay alive. It's a story about survival, about holding onto hope against all odds that there's someday an escape from the life you've been dropped into, about the way that hope alienates you, and about the monster you might become. Oh, and it's about tripping on psychedelic spider venom. This one goes by fast, but it sticks with you and leaves you thinking, maybe being a monster isn't the worst thing.— Chris Lee
A woman's daily commute takes an abrupt turn when she's dropped off in a grotesque shantytown in Edge of the Known Bus Line. The townsfolk live in huts and tents scavenged from broken trinkets. They eat dead rats and human flesh. They've developed cult-like religions about miracle bus routes that will someday set them free. The narrator searches for a way out of this surreal hellscape while dredging up a few nightmares of her own.