Jacob Aldrich Hanover, I need you to start making preparations immediately. My journey has been unexpectedly suspended. I and many other poor souls seem to have become trapped in the Old Milkridge Tunnel. I’ve been firing off so many letters that I’m not entirely sure how long I’ve been trapped down here, nor how long I shall remain, though I believe it to be quite long on both accounts.

Despite myself not having seen a single representative of the railroad since we started this journey, the other passengers seem to be getting by remarkably well considering their circumstances. That said, I suspect that they will have grown weak and weary by the time our freedom is secured. Stale baked goods and cheeses will only take one so far and for the most part, the only thing I’ve seen for people to drink is the devil’s tonic. A young lad has brought me some water at reasonable intervals and though it tastes fine, I wonder where he procured it from as I haven’t seen another soul partake in the beverage of life.

All of this being said, these people are going to need help when the train escapes. We’re going to need blankets and coffee to warm people up. We’re going to need water and hot food ready as soon as we emerge. And doctors; don’t forget the doctors. I imagine many of these folk will be ill before this is over. With no proper waste disposal or cleaning facilities, it’s only a matter of time before sickness takes hold. Afford no expense, Jacob. These people are counting on us.

Sincerely,

President Seymour Wellington

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