Cheddar and Plutonium (A Post-Apocalyptic Wallace and Gromit fanfic)

Part Three

Upon their return, they shower frugally with the water cleaned by Wallace's De-nuclomatic 3000: a device that sanitises water. 

They settle down to listen to the radio. It's hard to tune in nowadays. Every week a new voice is heard, seemingly replacing the previous host who may have died of god knows what disease. It's a lottery: long, asymptomatic and painless; or short and painful. There's a latter of diseases you could receive, you just have to cross your fingers and pray for something quick. 

The newest presenter does the usual rounds. Don't touch the dead, without protection, but still just don't touch. Don't drink unclean water. Ration food. Etcetera. Another 10,243 have died today, but on the bright side, the food rations have increased marginally. Swings and roundabouts.

Wallace pats Gromit's head.
"Well lad, more food for the family then!". He claps his hands together and lays back in his tattered armchair.

Gromit trots to his bedroom. It has had a recent re-design, to make space for his mate and her puppies. Truth be told, animal breeding is not recommended. Rather they go extinct than humans, but they seem to be getting along fine. In the litter of 9, 6 made it to end, and after 2 deaths, 4 remain. 3 girls and a boy. The puppies snuggle with their father. Their mother becomes weaker each day. Gromit does his best. His best is all he can do.