I am Emma Coleman, a red-haired, blue-eyed 12-year-old girl from a broken family in Tennessee—a drunken and violent father, and a mother who preferred to look the other way rather than stand up for herself or her daughter. I was in Atlanta on vacation with my family, and I experienced the apocalypse firsthand when the attacks began in Georgia. Even though it seemed like everything in Atlanta would be resolved, things only got worse; crowds kept arriving and piling up until, with just one infected person, all of Atlanta collapsed.